With Every Breath (Slow Burn 4)

Inwardly she’d winced, each barb finding its target with pinpoint accuracy, but she’d be damned if she ever let anyone see her weak and vulnerable. She’d donned a cool, unaffected, even bored expression as though she were just passing her time until . . .

She shuddered, revolted by the mere thought that she’d purposely set out to make these people think that she was here because Thomas would be released in mere days. That she couldn’t stay away. That she was still firmly under his spell. It was an act, but it hadn’t always been and that was what hurt the most.

She’d sworn to leave this place and never return. She’d walked out of the courthouse relieved, yet so full of shame, shoving her way through the crowd of reporters, refusing to say a single word. Not even “no comment.” What was there to say? She’d already aired her sins in front of God, judge and jury and she wasn’t rehashing it again. Ever.

Except by a cruel twist of fate—No. Fate couldn’t be blamed. The blame lay solely at Thomas’s feet. He’d engineered his release. But whatever the case, that long ago vow of putting Thomas, this town, everything behind her and never rehashing it, had been shattered and now she stood in the middle of town in front of the courthouse, long-suppressed images surfacing with vicious clarity.

That day she’d carried only a duffel bag containing everything she owned, what little money she possessed shoved into her pocket. She’d walked and she’d kept walking, never once looking back. Not at the diner where it had all begun. Not when she’d wearily passed the city limit sign. She’d only looked forward, no definitive destination in mind. Her only goal had been to get as far away as possible, as quickly as possible and try like hell to put everything that town represented behind her. Try to forget. And to forgive . . . herself. She’d been unable to do either. Especially now.

She’d walked for days, the days fading to night and then slowly bleeding to light once more. Despite her efforts to blank her mind and shut out the recitation of the atrocities Thomas had committed, it had sounded as if the jury foreman had screamed the sentence for every single crime, each one more horrifying than the last. She still heard that voice in her nightmares echoing over and over. It sickened her now every bit as much as it had sickened her then, but far worse than living with never-ending nightmares was the knowledge that she was not the victim she’d been portrayed in court. The true victims were the women Thomas had defiled, degraded, violated and murdered in a gruesome, inhuman manner, and it was they who deserved justice. Not Eliza. She’d deserved the same punishment handed down to Thomas. She should, even now, be in prison consigned to a lifetime behind bars.

Because she was guilty of the worst crime of all. Stupidity. Naïveté. Willful ignorance. And an aching need for love and acceptance, as only a vulnerable young girl could fantasize about the things she’d never been gifted with. Things she craved far more than the truth. She didn’t want reality. Her reality was dismal and without hope, love or acceptance. Things Thomas had offered and she’d latched on to with fervent desperation. She’d been absolute in her belief that he was a good man and was being wrongfully questioned and investigated. She’d been determined to do anything to prove his innocence because if he wasn’t then she lost the fantasy world she’d plunged so recklessly into. Rooting herself so deeply in denial that she’d convinced herself none of it was real. Except Thomas’s love for her. She’d clung to that and only that, refusing to see what was so pathetically obvious to everyone except her. Because she chose denial. Refused to return to reality. Her crime was that choice, because deep down she knew it wasn’t real and she hadn’t cared. And her denial and selfish desperation for love had condemned innocent women to death.

Thomas hadn’t loved her. He wasn’t capable of something so beautiful and selfless. It had taken her witnessing the depraved things he’d done to an innocent woman before she was forced to acknowledge what an utter, gullible fool she’d been. God, how so very ignorant of love she’d been then—a lifetime ago. But she’d witnessed the real deal now. And finally understood. Knew it for what it truly was and not the twisted, manipulative and sick perversion she’d once been immersed in. A nightmarish, unending source of shame that she’d never escape. But back then he’d tapped into her young mind and pulled every longing, every wish, her every dream and desire and then he’d given her precisely what her unrealistic fantasies had manifested themselves into. She’d been an easy mark and Thomas hadn’t had to exert any effort whatsoever to bend her to his will.

She shivered, pulling at the sleeves of her windbreaker and finally pulling the hood to cover her head as chilly spring rain began to gently fall. There was no longer any need to ensure she was noticed and recognized. In a few hours’ time, the entire town would know of her arrival. And Thomas too would be aware that she was here.

Tears welled and for once she didn’t call them back and refuse to let them free. They merely mixed with the rain, disguised by the now more pronounced sprinkle that had begun just seconds ago. She wasn’t breaking her vow never to let anyone see her cry ever again. Because there was no way to distinguish her tears from the rain, and she could no longer bear the horrific burden without having an outlet.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t know. It’s no excuse. I should have known. I should have been smarter. If I had, none of you would be dead. But I swear to you on my life, that I won’t fail you like the justice system failed you . . . and me.”

She knew well how the rest would play out now that she’d made her move. Speculation would run rampant—was already rippling through the town. She’d continue to face the same scorn and ridicule she’d already been subjected to and be treated like a leper.

None of that mattered. The only thing that mattered was that Thomas got wind that she was here and as soon as he was a free man, not only would he know she’d come, he’d know how to find her. It wasn’t as if she was going to make it hard.

Until then, she’d be treated with no better regard than Thomas himself, only the people here would be even more bitter toward her because she had never paid for her crimes. She’d gone free while so many other women had paid the price for her freedom.

It was nothing more than she deserved. She deserved far worse.