J. Huss - PANIC

DAY 1,110 in Captivity

Six Months Ago

Wayne, Illinois

Thirty-one days.

Thats how long it takes my face to heal.

I watch the girl in the mirror, looking for marks. She tilts her head this way and that, lifts her chin, stretches her neck for any sign of fingertip-shaped bruises, and then she sighs.

They are all gone. I can see a tiny scar on the edge of my lower lip, but its not as bad as it couldve been if Jon hadnt rigged up a rudimentary butterfly bandage so he didnt have to take me to the hospital. It shouldve been stitched, but it wasnt.

My pack is waiting on the floor of the bathroom. I wasnt sure if today would be the day. I tried last week but there were still a few purple splotches on the skin under my eye and the lip was scabbed.

Its been torture waiting to heal. And I kept thinkingwhat if he does it again? Before I heal? Then Ill be stuck here even longer.

But enough of that. Its healed now and I have an appointment. I take one more look in the mirror and give myself a little pep talk. Youre going to live, Rook. Youre going to live. You might not have the best life, but it will be better than this one. No matter how bad it is at first. Things will get better.

I really believe it too. Before all this mess with Jonthats what he calls it, the messI was what some people might call an optimist. A half-full kind of girl.

I think I can be that girl again.

I think I can.

My suitcase contains all my worldly possessions. Its not much really, just some clothes and trinkets. A few softcover books I never finished, and some crap that meant something to me at one time or another, but no longer matters.

I just want to leave it all behind. Every bit of it. But I dont want Jon to have anything of me. I want to leave this house and leave no trace of myself.

Its impossible, Im not delusional. Im all over this place. I picked out the dishtowel hanging on the stove. I found the dishes at an antique store not far from here. Im the only person to ever have used the oven. And Im leaving behind an entire room of things I cant bear to look at.

But I cant change any of that. I cant erase the imprint Im leaving here.

All I can do is remove the few very personal items I have and stuff them in this suitcase.

Jon left the car keys today. And a list of errands he wanted me to do. Go to the store, buy his favorite foods, pick up a package at the post officehe was pissed about that, that it had to be picked up instead of delivered. But it was his fault. I couldnt exactly open the door with my face all purple.

I take one more look down the hallway to the last door on the left. Its closed. Its always closed.

I hope it stays closed forever because Im so tired of thinking about it.

The suitcase is very heavy since it contains all the things Id rather throw away than leave with Jon, but I manage to get it in the backseat of the Toyota, then plop myself down in the drivers seat and put my pack on the passenger side.

Im remarkably calm for a girl who is about to run away. I expected my heart to beat wildly, like the last time I tried to leave.

I didnt make it that time. But that was two years ago now. Hes made a mess of me so many times since then and I never tried to run away again, so I guess he figures Im beat. Hes won.

The car protests with backfires and clouds of smoke when I turn the key. I just press the gas until it gets over it. It will work today, I know it will. Im not worried about the car breaking down at all, and typically I worry about that even if Im just going to the supermarket in town.

Today it doesnt matter.

I pull out of the driveway and never look back.

The first thing on my checklist is to ditch the suitcase. I have no use for all that crap in my life anymore. My pack contains two extra day outfits, seven pairs of underwear, one pair of pajamas and some personal hygiene items.

I pull up to a dumpster just inside the Chicago city limits, then lug the suitcase out of the backseat and throw it down on the ground. Theres a few homeless people sleeping nearby so I call out in a friendly voice, Free stuff in this suitcase. Take whatever you want.

Most of them just stare at me looking pretty miserable. But a few get up and mumble out a thank you.

I shrug and get back in the car and weave down a number of streets filled with cars and people walking. Going places and generally being busy on this Monday morning.

Monday is the perfect day because Jon cant work from home on Mondays. He has to go into the office downtown and work on the servers and stuff at the police station. So even though I wont answer his calls all day, he wont be able to figure out whats wrong until he gets home tonight. By then Ill be long gone and he wont be able to find me easily. His thing is computer forensics, so hes like a god in the virtual world. But I dont do anything virtual these days, so thats a total dead end for him. I have cash in my pocket that Ive been stashing away, little by little, down in the basement for years.

And my bus ticket isnt even purchased yet, so he cant track me that way.

I park the car in a trendy neighborhood far away from the bus station and check the mirror one more time.

I smile. My lips pull back from my cheeks and I look like a skeleton. Ive lost a lot of weight, probably fifteen pounds, and skinny is in my nature, so right now I could probably stand to gain at least twenty to fill out my frame. I smile again and try not to see my life in my eyes.

This time I look almost OK. When you ignore the fact that my soul is crushed and my eyes really are a mirror inside. I dont look so bad.

But like the car, it doesnt matter today. Im not worried about how people see me. If they see my fading bruises, or my cut lip, or the lost, tragic look in my eyesI do not care. I exist alone in this world as of today.

There is just me.

The smile stays on my face as I enter the beauty salon.

And when I come out two hours later, Im someone else. Theres no sign of the limp blonde hair Ive been dyeing since Jon took over my life. The tragic eyes are only half full of sadness and despair, the other half is hope. My hair is as close to its natural brown-black as you can get and not look fake and I changed into my other outfit before I left. All the ladies in the salon made a big deal out of me because I told them I had a special first date tonight and they chuckled and smiled and congratulated me and told me to go get him.

What I left out was that my first date was with myself.

I end day one thousand one hundred and ten sitting on a Greyhound bus heading to Las Vegas. Its a two-day trip and Ive been sitting in this seat for less than half of that and my back already aches and my legs are going numb.

But I dont care.

Its nice to meet me again and I cant wait to get to know me better.

Six Months Later

Denver, CO

The music pounds in my ear as I force myself up one more aisle of steps at Coors Field. This song always gets me trying a little harder. I hop the long step, then take a stride and pump my legs to go up two steps at once. I cant do this very long, Im still no Ford when it comes to running stadiums, but I almost make it to the top before I have to slow down and then finally stop.