“Hello!” Sue called from the doorway of the cottage. “I brought you some painting supplies.”

I peeked my head from the refrigerator that I’d been bleaching and scrubbing vigorously and saw Sue holding a couple of gallons of paint, a few buckets, along with several rollers, and drop cloths. She had on a ratty t-shirt and jeans, and I could tell she had also been doing her fair share of cleaning. It had been three days since we moved in. Three days for me to do nothing but clean. Between hauling different pieces of furniture from this cottage and the other one, my body ached all over. My ribs still burned, but the bruise on my face had faded enough that I wasn’t hiding from my reflection in the mirror any longer.

“Thanks,” I said as I moved to her to inspect what she’d brought. I was careful and deliberate with my movements. I didn't want her to see how much pain my body still held. I was afraid she’d think I was incapable of fixing up the cottage and that was the deal we made. I would fix this place up while I lived here at a much-discounted rate. I bumped into the couch. Just a small bump, but it shot pain into my ribs, and I outwardly flinched. I immediately looked at Sue to see if she noticed. Unfortunately, the small widening of her eyes told me she did.

“Girl,” Sue said, which was funny, because I was far from a girl. I was damn near pushing forty. “You’re hurt, and you’re letting me push paint on you? There’s no rush in painting. In fact, I’m taking it with me. I want you to heal up before taking on something like painting. I push people into work, but I’m no slave driver.” She reached into her purse. I wondered how in the world she carried so much at once.

She set down a bottle of Advil on the coffee table that Talon carried over from the “spare” cottage. “Take it easy until those ribs heal up, okay?” She coughed the last part out then dug into her purse, grabbed a cigarette and lighter, turned with all her paint gear in hand, and lit it as soon as her head was out the door. A trail of smoke followed in her wake.

I took her advice, popping four Advil, and laid on the dusty couch. Talon was in her room, drawing and listening to music. I looked around. It really wasn't so bad. The walls were dirty and needed paint, but you could finally see the white Formica on the kitchen counters after hours of scrubbing.

The wood on the cupboards was another story. They were scratched up and old. No amount of cleaning would make them beautiful. I thought that I would try to paint those as well, but I would need to sand them first. I’d also need a job or two if we were going to survive here. I mentally tallied the list of what needed to be done, when my eyes grew heavy, and I fell fast asleep.

I woke up in my bed, my new bed where I slept alone without Drake. It was dark outside. I wasn’t sure what woke me. My senses were on high alert. The room was comfortable, but it changed. I studied it for a second, thinking how lovely it was that we had nice things in it.

I opened Talon’s door just a crack and saw the rise and fall of her chest as she slept surrounded by a faint glow of moonlight. Her curtains billowed out from a warm breeze. The unique smell of the lake mixed with a thick woodsy scent carried over to me, and I thought about how happy we’d been. I left her room and moved to the living room.

My heart hammered in my chest. Something felt off. I looked around, and there in the shadows sat Drake. His black boot was kicked up on the table. His jeans were a pair he usually wore. They were baggy with a small tear at the knee. Not that I could see them I just knew. He was wearing a long-sleeved Henley covered with his black leather vest. One of his arms were draped over the back of the couch while his other arm was raised with his hand to his lips taking a carefree drag from his cigarette.

His eyes stalked me. I stood motionless watching him, feeling like I stumbled upon a wild animal and any sudden movements could mean the end of me. He didn’t flick his ash. It got longer and longer and yet he didn’t flick it.

We stared at each other. Me, a fearful deer caught in his headlights. Him, a predator waiting to strike. Another puff. Another moment longer—and then he spoke, his voice, cold and calculating, it was the version of Drake that was more sober than I was used too.

“You took Talon. She’s mine, and you took her.” It wasn’t an accusation, more like a condemnation. “You remember what I said. I told you I’d kill you. Now, I’ve come to keep my promise.”

He carefully put his cigarette out, taking his boot off the coffee table and stomping it out on the hardwood floors. Fear paralyzed me, my feet glued to their spot.

“Please,” I whispered and saw the shiny silver handgun raised and aimed directly at me. I turned to run, but it was too late. There was a bang, then... nothing.”

I awoke with a start, clasping at my throat, feeling like I couldn't breathe. I was panting and sweating. My heart was hammering in my chest.

“Mom! Mom! Breathe!” Talon was at my side. “You’re okay. We’re here in the cottage. You’re safe.” Talon reassured me.

I breathed in and out until finally my breathing settled and I was sucking in lungfuls of air that didn’t feel like they were suffocating me.

I didn't feel rested. I felt on edge.

Talon watched me cautiously. “What was that? Are you okay?”

I shook my head pushing images of Drake out of my mind. “Nothing, Baby. Just a bad dream.”

“You cried out. I was scared.” I pulled Talon to me, her head against my chest. She laid beside me on the old sofa. I rubbed along her hairline, both taking and giving comfort.

“I’m sorry I scared you. It will get better. I’ll find a way to make it better,” I whispered promises that I prayed I could keep. She was happy. She had her friends and social life. I had ripped it away, so that we could escape and I felt like I needed to be strong for her. She might not yet understand the amount of abuse I’d endured, but I couldn't have her looking at me like she needed to save me.

The following morning, I decided that I was going to take Sue’s advice and give my bruised ribs another day to heal. I was afraid to leave Talon here by herself, but she assured me that she’d be fine. I had to remind myself again and again that Drake had no idea where we were and that I’d be fine.

“Relax, Mom. I’ll just take a walk around, do a little exploring. I’ll be fine.”

“Well, I really can't blame you. It’s beautiful out there.” And it was. It was like being in a beautiful park. There were a ton of trees. Pine, oak, maple, you name it, it felt like it was here. The lake was large and filled with people fishing, families laughing, and boats being paddled. It was as picturesque as it could be. It was all that, and yet I was still afraid for my baby to walk around.

“You be careful.”

“Jeez, Mom, it’s not like some big bad biker is going to snatch me up or something.” I froze. That was precisely what I was afraid of. I stared at Talon fearing precisely that. “Mom, I’ll be fine.”

“And you know what we talked about. You can not under any circumstance contact your friends. You understand the importance, right?”

“Yes, yes. We’ve been over this. I know, I have to give up everything.” Her chin wobbled, and I knew I’d struck a nerve.

“Talon, I...”

She cut me off as she wiped a single tear from the corner of her eye. “It’s fine. I’ll see you later, okay?” She quickly exited the cottage. The screen door slammed behind her. I had to remind myself again and again how hard it must be at thirteen to start all over again.

I got in the old car, which luckily started without a problem. I was fortunate enough that Mary, one of the ladies at the church, was able to get this car from her nephew, with the help of some other parishioners, for a steal.

I rolled down the windows and drove into town. It was hot, and the air had this sticky, sweet smell to it. I pulled into a space in front of a bar called Benny’s that we’d passed on the way in. I noticed that it was only past ten. Shit, I hadn’t even considered it was too early. I parked anyway, and decided I’d check out what time it opened. I got to the door and read the hours. I had until eleven.

Taking a peek through the windows, it looked clean enough. A man was polishing down the bar. I decided to give it a try even though they were closed and knocked on the window. The man looked up. He had white hair and a white beard. His hair was not white in the frail old man way, more like he went gray early. He unlocked the door for me and said, “What can I help you with?” I noticed the creases around his eyes as he smiled. There was something about him that immediately put me at ease.

“Hi, I’m Marie. I’m new in town, and I was wondering if you’re hiring?”

“C’mon in.” He opened the door wide gesturing for me to follow. I took in the bar. The bar itself was curved in a U shape. There was a door on one side that by my guess lead to a kitchen. There were high top tables around the bar and an open area with booths and a spacious back that I would imagine bands played at. A Budweiser sign and a Miller sign hung on the walls waiting for the dangling silver strings to be pulled to illuminate them. A newer jukebox sat next to a Golden Tee arcade game. The floors were a dark rich colored wood. There were plenty of scratches etched on them, but they were clean. All in all, Benny’s was the perfect kind of hole in the wall in the middle of nowhere. He walked behind the bar with a slight limp in his gait.

“Take a seat,” he motioned to a spot at the bar. I sat down on the barstool, and it was apparent that my ribs weren’t fully healed because it was harder than it should’ve been for me to lift myself up and swivel. At five foot three, these things always made me feel on the shorter side.

“You tended bar before? Wait tables?”

“I’ve done both for most of my life.”

He studied me while continuing to polish the bar. “How old are you?”

“Thirty-eight.”

“You got family here? Most people don't end up in Wakeman unless they know someone here.”

“Nope, no ties. I found an ad for the cottages on the lake, and it looked like the perfect place to start over.”

“Drugs?”

“No, nothing like that. I got an ex.”

“Don’t they all.”

“He’s a mean S.O.B.”

“I know a thing or two about those too.”

“Mean sons of bitches, or exes?”

He laughed, but it wasn't a funny ha ha laugh, he laughed, shaking his head knowingly. Without answering the question, he said, “Name’s Jack,”

He spent the next twenty minutes quizzing me on all kinds of things, like, “What goes into a Manhattan?” or “How do you make a buttery nipple?”

By the time I left, we were friendly with each other. Jack said he’d start me a few days a week to see if I had what it takes. He didn’t even blanch when I asked him if he minded paying me under the table. It was like he was expecting it. Feeling confident about the job opportunity, even though it was only a few days a week, I was smiling as I said goodbye to Jack, and told him I would see him tomorrow for the lunch crowd.

It was sunny out and the T-shirt and jeans I was wearing seemed to stick to my skin, but it didn't bother me much. I was walking to my car. No one knew me. No one could hurt me here. It was a fresh start.

I got into the piece of shit car, put the keys in the ignition and right as I was about to turn the ignition, I heard a very familiar sound. Motorcycles. It wasn’t Drake, I told myself. It wasn’t him. He had no idea where I was. It couldn't be. Multiple pipes cut the wind. I counted the bikes; one, two, five, seven, nine. Nine bikes began backing into spots specifically made, now that I was paying attention, for motorcycles.

I slunk down into my seat. They were wearing a patch. Not the same type of patch as Drake’s, but it was there. My heart was hammering in my chest. I stayed low in my seat, not wanting to be noticed. I just needed to wait until they parked so I could leave. I briefly considered grabbing Talon and running, but that was stupid. Bikers would be anywhere I went. As long as there was a road, there’d be a man on two wheels.

I felt panic start to swell deep within my chest. It’s not him. You’re okay. You’re okay. I repeated this mantra until that deep ache in my chest started to recede. I stayed low in my seat waiting for them to park.

Jesus, how long did it take to park a bike?

I turned the key in the ignition and... tick tick tick... nothing.

I took a deep breath.

“Come on you piece of crap, don't quit on me now.” I realized calling the car a piece of crap was not how I was going to get it started. I sighed and tried again. Nothing.

There were three taps on my window. I suddenly realized how warm it was in this furnace of a car. I ignored the knock and tried again. I just needed to get out of this spot and out of here. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tick. Tick. Tick.

“Fuck,” I gritted out, then turned my head to the taps on the window and carefully rolled it down completely changing my world once again.