“Thank you, Kate.”
“You’re welcome, Constance. Hope to speak to you again very soon.”
Constance ended the call and looked around her home. It was a nice place, but she’d be more than happy to give it all up for some peace for both herself and her children. She jumped slightly as her phone buzzed. It was a text from a private number with documents attached. A part of her said this could all be a scam and she was about to give out personal information to some sort of hacker or thief, but she was desperate and willing to risk it.
Before the girls could interrupt, she quickly responded to the questions she had been sent and took a quick selfie of herself, sending it all back to yet another number included in the documents. She received an immediate response that merely said, “Delete everything now.”
Constance did just that, deleting her call, the texts and the documents. Blane had always insisted that she pay for her own cell phone if she was going to have one, something she did with the little income she had from selling handmade jewelry online. Today, that was a benefit, as he had no way of checking her call log online. Though there was really no reason for him to question her calls and she had never known him to do so, she now felt a bit paranoid. She would be careful, but was glad he had no access, nonetheless.
With all of that out of the way, she opened her browser and typed in “Matthew 6:34.”
Therefore, do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.
Constance stared at the words for a while. She had to wonder if it was truly random or if it held special meaning, as it seemed incredibly apt. Perhaps she was just being theatrical about all of this. It was a bit mysterious, somewhat cloak and dagger. Was that overkill? Probably not; if there were women trying to get away from husbands like hers, then an abundance of caution was most likely necessary. Blane had not yet been truly violent, but she knew that it was quite likely he would become so eventually, if she stayed.
For the first time in months, she felt hope. Sure it was twisted about with an unhealthy level of anxiety, but it was better than the endless despair that had been creeping in more heavily every day since she had married Blane. This was too much for anyone and she couldn’t imagine how much worse it might get. Blane wasn’t the sort of man to change. He wasn’t the kind of man who would wake up one day and regret having treated her so badly. He wasn’t the kind of man who would learn to love his daughters.
No. There was nothing to be gained from staying here. Blane was a monster and he was going to get far, far worse before all was said and done. The more she thought about it, the more it made sense for her to get out of here however she could. That thought was only further solidified by his return home and the ensuing argument about how the girls were keeping him from watching the football game he had planned on spending the evening relaxing in front of. All Constance could think was how nice it must be to be able to come home and just plan an evening of doing nothing instead of cooking, cleaning and tending children.
As the days passed without anything from the woman named Kate, Constance began to lose the hope she had felt early on. How could she have allowed herself to get so wound up in a pipe dream? Perhaps it had been a scam, after all. At the very least, it was an attempted one, since she had no assets to steal. It might be time to give up and try to find another way out of this mess she had gotten herself into, this mess that she had now bought children into. Her thoughts were disturbed by a buzz from her phone, one that drew the attention of Blane, as well.
“Who’s that?” he growled.
“I don’t know. I think it’s a wrong number,” she said, glancing at the phone and trying not to look more interested than she should be.
“What does it say?” he asked, but he didn’t wait, striding over from the sofa to snatch her phone from her and look at it. “Matthew 6:34? What does that mean?”
“How am I supposed to know?” I asked. “I told you I think it’s a wrong number.”
Blane tossed her phone back at her and went back to the sofa, picking up the beer he was drinking and becoming immersed in the game again. Constance breathed a sigh of relief and went to the kitchen to finish some cleaning she had begun in there. It was getting late and she was tired. The triplets were asleep and he was busy watching the game, so she decided to go upstairs and go to bed. She laid there in the darkness of their room, aching to reply to the message, but too afraid he would decide to come to bed and catch her. As hard as it was, she’d have to wait until he left for work tomorrow.