Page 20 of Escape

Was that strange? Was it wrong? Did it make me crazy? Foolish?

At this point in my life, dealing with what I’d been dealing with for so long, the last thing I should have been thinking about was a romantic relationship with anyone. What I probably should have been doing was focusing solely on everything I needed to do to get away from Kurt. I knew that was the most logical thing, but I’d been living in such a state of doom and gloom for so long that I wanted desperately to latch on to any possibility of a better future.

Because if I couldn’t dream of a better tomorrow, why was I even trying to get myself out of this mess? Having lived in a state of despair for so long, I needed these thoughts of Huck to uplift me and get me through.

They’d been doing exactly that, and I didn’t think I needed to feel bad about wanting something more for myself down the line. Deep down, I knew he was the reason. It was because it was Huck that I was even able to consider any of it a possibility in my life.

I knew him; I felt safe with him. And until I could hopefully make those dreams a reality, I wasn’t going to stop myself from doing what I needed to do to get through the worst days of my life now.

Of course, it was entirely possible I was being naïve. Or, again, foolish.

Because I should have recognized that being okay with allowing myself to be distracted by Huck would lead to making a mistake in areas of my life where I couldn’t afford to do such a thing.

And that was precisely what happened as I finished making dinner.

I’d just strained the pasta and was adding the sauce to it when the front door opened and slammed shut. I jumped at the sound, nearly knocking over the pot of pasta in the process. Fortunately, I’d saved it from ruin just in time to glance at the clock.

It was fifteen minutes later than Kurt usually got home.

I didn’t need to be a genius to draw the conclusion that him slamming the door and getting home late was a sign that something bad had happened. The only question that remained was what it was and if I was going to be blamed for it. Because even if Kurt had been fine when he left for work this morning, and I hadn’t seen or spoken to him since, it was not unfathomable to believe Kurt would find a way to blame me for whatever went wrong in his day.

Having learned how to best handle these situations, I stayed where I was, my back to the mouth of the kitchen, and continued to work on finishing up dinner. The last thing I needed to do was make his bad day worse than it already was.

But no matter how hard I’d prayed Kurt wouldn’t blame me, I knew I didn’t stand a chance when he stomped into the kitchen and violently threw empty plastic containers from his lunch into the sink.

I tensed, squeezing my eyes shut and pressing my lips together. I was bracing for impact. It was coming. I didn’t doubt it.

“Where’s the fucking mail, Josie?” he shouted.

I wanted to tell him it was where I always put it, where I knew he expected to find it every day, but I wasn’t that stupid. “It’s on top of the coffee table,” I said quietly.

“You’re talking about today’s mail,” he seethed.

Confused, I stupidly looked in his direction and asked, “Isn’t that what you’re asking about?”

Kurt stepped close, my hands instantly gripping the edge of the counter. “Why the fuck would I be asking you about that mail? Do you think I’m so stupid that I wouldn’t remember where to find the mail when it’s in the same place every day?”

Once again, I had wanted to say something that never came past my lips—I’d been wondering the exact same thing. But without any clarification as to what he was referring to, I was lost.

“I don’t think you’re stupid, Kurt. I was wrong for assuming that’s what you meant,” I returned, knowing it was always best to take the blame even when I didn’t know why I was doing it.

Shaking his head, a look of disgust on his face, he spat, “You’re such a worthless piece of trash, Josie. You know that?”

I swallowed hard. I hated when he asked me questions like that. Even if I already knew what he believed when he asked that question, it was still never easy to admit I agreed with him. Unfortunately, there was no other option, because going against whatever Kurt said would do little to help me in a situation that was already beyond tense and terrifying. “I’ll still try to help you find whatever you’re looking for,” I croaked.

Anything.

I was willing to do anything not to let this situation get any worse.

“I’m talking about the mail that you were supposed to take care of,” he roared. “Mail that you were supposed to go through and handle.”

It took two or three seconds for me to figure out what he was talking about. The evening before Huck had shown up at the diner, Kurt had handed me the mail he needed me to address. Often, he’d hold on to the bills until there was enough money set aside to pay them. Then, when he had what he needed in the bank account to cover the bills, he’d hand them off to me with the expectations that I’d take care of submitting those payments.

My plan had been to pay them all the following day after I returned from work.

I couldn’t quite recall what specific bills he’d given me that evening, but what I did know was that I’d been so distracted by seeing Huck for the first time, I forgot about the bills entirely.

Oh, God.