Trigger Warning: This chapter contains themes of abuse.

Chapter 28

​Hudson rolled onto her back and stretched, craving the motivation to crawl out of bed. Exhaustion weighed down her arms and legs, even the muscles in her shoulders felt like jello. A quick glance out the window told her it was still early, and a peek at the clock confirmed her suspicion. 4:57. The sun hadn't even ascended over the horizon.

Taking a deep breath, Hudson rubbed at the profound discomfort in her eyes.

She'd excused herself to bed around 10:30 the evening before, and when her head finally hit the pillow, she'd fallen right to sleep. A deep, motionless sleep, devoid of dreams and nightmares. Yet somehow it felt as if she'd barely gotten any rest. Poor Jacob had been exhausted, too. She'd seen it in his eyes when she'd hugged him goodnight. There was no way he'd be awake at this hour.

The idea of him cutting his trip short just to come back and stay with her continued to pummel through her mind. A selfless act on his part, and one she would have never expected or asked for. But that's what friends did; they watched out for one another. If the tables were turned, she'd certainly do the same for him.

There had to be a way she could show her gratitude. To show Jacob his thoughtfulness did not go unnoticed. Perhaps she could have a delicious breakfast waiting for him when he woke up? The kind of breakfast that made grown men salivate. Eggs, bacon, pancakes, toast. The works. Her favorite meal of the day. Gran had always said the best way to a man's heart was through his stomach. Not that she wanted Jacob's heart, she just wanted to thank him for being such a good friend. It was the heart of another man she was after.

Hudson reached for her phone on the bedside table. Before she'd fallen asleep, she'd sent Myles a quick text to let him know Jacob was back in town. He'd be staying with her until they caught whoever had broken into her apartment. Now he wouldn't feel obligated to be with her on his nights off from work. Not that she didn't want Myles there. She did, more than anything. Only she didn't want him to feel as if he had no choice. But she'd been so exhausted, so anxious to crawl under the covers, she hadn't wait for a response.

Hudson swiped at the screen, the soft green glow illuminating the dark space around her. Eight missed calls now, all from the same number, and one from a cell she didn't recognize. And finally, a sweet text from Myles wishing her sweet dreams.

She bit her bottom lip and smiled as thoughts of the handsome cop flooded through her.

Myles Young was quite the catch. And of all the women in Chicago, he wanted to be with her. She still couldn't believe her good fortune! What had she done to deserve his attention? Surely there were more beautiful girls out there who thought he was attractive and charming and funny. Probably even several women at the police station who felt the same way. And yet, he'd chosen her. Hudson Caldwell. With her quirky sense of humor and self-conscious ways. Not gorgeous, by any means, but pretty in her own right.

Come on—he really likes you! Would you get that through your thick skull?

She was always so hard on herself, so unforgiving. Why wouldn't he like her? She was ambitious and goal-oriented; an up-and-coming artist. And with her first exhibit under way, that was something to be proud of! All of the blood, sweat, and tears she'd endured to get where she was now. All of the pain she'd worked through. There were times when she'd been convinced she wouldn't make it. Times when the darkness overpowered the light.

But she had made it.

Gran would be so proud if she could see everything she'd accomplished; making an honest attempt to fit in, to be a contributing member of society. To be normal, just another girl making her way in the world. That's all she'd ever wanted, that's what she'd worked so hard for. She'd earned this little slice of ordinary.

Hudson's eyelids grew heavy and she began to nod off, then jerked herself awake. Forcing her legs over the edge of the bed, she sat upright and yawned. If she was going to make Jacob breakfast, she would need to get a move on. A visit to the grocery store was long overdue. With all the excitement of the past several days, she'd completely forgotten to go shopping.

Her muscles screamed in protest as she shuffled to the bathroom, and when she looked into the mirror she was appalled by the sight. Long, blonde tangles hung haphazardly along each side of her face and red zigzags marked the whites of her eyes, accentuated by smears of day-old eyeliner. Hudson blinked once, twice, trying to relieve the dryness and irritation. She peered closer at her reflection.

Her contacts. She'd forgotten to take them out before going to bed. It was no wonder her eyes were so sore! Carefully, she removed the soft orbs, letting two cerulean dots sink into sterile solution.

Hudson scrubbed the blur of makeup from her face, dressed quickly, and ran a brush through her hair. Then she tiptoed down the hallway, stopping in front of the spare bedroom. She pressed her ear to the door. Silence. Just as she'd suspected. Jacob was still fast asleep, bless his heart. Hopefully he would remain that way until she finished everything she needed to do. How surprised he'd be to wake up to a nice breakfast! It was the least she could offer after what he'd done for her.

Grabbing her purse, Hudson left the apartment, locking the door behind her. She glanced across the hall and paused, debating what to do.

If Annie found out she'd left the building on her own, she'd be pissed. But chances were, she'd be pissed anyway. There were countless inconveniences just waiting to set her off. Her friend might be angry with her at the moment, but surely she'd want Hudson to be safe. That was Annie's job—The Protector—that's who she'd always been. Taking care of Hudson whenever she needed her to.

And that's the very reason Annie was so upset now. Because she was tired of looking after her. Tired of providing the safety net for Hudson to fall into. Just like when they were little.

No. She didn't need her anymore. She could do this on her own. She'd been fine before her friend found her way back. She'd had a life, an apartment, her artwork. And all of that without the assistance of Annie. She'd taken care of herself then, and she'd take care of herself now. She needed to prove that to Annie just as much as she needed to prove it to herself. To the world. She could leave the past behind and start fresh. Again. But this time, she'd be a stronger and more capable Hudson. A Hudson who didn't hold onto pain. A Hudson who looked toward the future and all the possibilities that lie ahead. That was the girl she wanted—needed—to be.

Hudson closed her eyes then made her way down the stairs, glancing only once over her shoulder. She opened the door and walked into the windless tranquility of morning. So quiet and still. Like the sliver of calm right before sleep. And yet disturbing. How unusual to not feel the lake breeze brush against her cheek.

A dense morning fog hung cumbersome over the lifeless street, rolling on and on like an endless gray veil. Hudson's muscles twitched as a deep-seated chill moved through her.

Something in the air felt different, something other than the fog. Like slices of a memory she couldn't quite recall. Or maybe a secret hidden in plain sight. Hudson pulled her cardigan closer and moved down the sidewalk, the hem of her sundress skimming across her bare calves.

A slight break in the clouds revealed a sleepy glow, enveloping the small market where she'd often times shop. But by the time she'd purchased a paper bag brimming with groceries, the clouds had swallowed up the only shred of morning light.

Hudson tilted a frown toward the hidden, orange globe, her fingers tapping rhythmically against the soft brown leather of her purse. A little sunlight would be welcome on a day like today, warding off the relentless shiver quivering inside her bones. How was it possible to feel this cold in the throws of a midsummer heat wave?

Today of all days should be an pleasant one. Jacob was finally home and the art exhibit would officially open to the public. Hundreds of people would filter through the tiny, whimsical gallery, taking in the works of half a dozen talented, young artists—including her.

Her. Nice and normal. Just another girl making it on her own. Maybe Myles would stop by after work, or take her to dinner to celebrate the happy milestone. The thought made her smile. With all the positivity surrounding her, perhaps she'd even apologize to Annie. Thank her again for everything she's done. For being a good friend—considering. They might not always see eye to eye, but Annie cared about her. In her own way. She'd cared when so many others had not.

Why hadn't the others cared?

For a moment, Hudson felt sadder than sad. And like always, she shooed it away, deep inside the dark box entombed in a corner of her mind. That's where the bad memories lived.

It didn't matter. That was all in the past. This was the now. And the now was where she belonged.

A warm hand on her shoulder made her jump.

"Excuse me, ma'am. You dropped this." A young girl wearing a school uniform stood beside her in the fog, two dark-blonde braids cascading over her shoulders. She couldn't have been any older than seven. Her hand thrust forward, a white receipt pinched between her fingers.

"Thank you." Hudson stuffed the paper deep inside her bag and frowned. "Are you out here all by yourself? It's not safe to walk the streets alone. What if someone tried to hurt you?"

The girl smiled. "It's okay, I'm not alone. I'm with my friend."

Hudson peered through thick swirls of gray. "I don't see anyone. Would you like me to walk with you?" she asked. "Just to make sure you get where you need to go?"

Silence met her question. She looked back, but the girl was gone.

Shoulders tensing, her eyes searched the ghostly drifts of gray, unblinking. "Where are you? Are you there?" A long moment passed before two voices giggled. "Are you all right? Do you need help?" She hovered at the edge of their laughter until it dissipated into the mist.

Unnerved, Hudson turned and charged in the direction toward home. There wasn't anything she could do for the girls if all they wanted to do was play games. It wasn't her responsibility to watch out for them. Their parents should be keeping a closer eye, making sure they weren't left all alone. Making sure no one would hurt them, no matter who that no one was. That was their job.

With her pulse thudding in her chest, Hudson scurried down the sidewalk, her gaze darting back and forth, her throat dry with increased agitation. The streets were still empty, no one walking, no cars passing. Complete and utter silence as she hurried through the smog.

From the quiet, faint footfalls stiffened the air. The definite sound of steps coming from somewhere behind her. Treading slowly, painstakingly.

Could it be the young girl? No. Much too heavy for that.

Hudson wanted to turn around, wanted to look behind her, but a voice inside told her not to. She envisioned the rigid soles of black, buckle-less shoes hitting the sidewalk, growing louder and more insistent. Closer.

Maybe a commuter on their way to work or school? No. Too purposeful. These footsteps had different intentions. And worse than that, they were familiar. Frighteningly recognizable.

Tears stung Hudson's eyes as she slipped into an alley, the fog looming thick and heavy against her back. Her heart thundered in her ears, drowning out everything else. Pressing against the wall of a building, she held her breath and listened for noise, wanting nothing more than to disappear.

Dread surged through her as an unseen presence hovered by her side. Strikingly tall and very male. The scent of his putrid breath preceding his arrival.

And then he spoke. "In every thing give thanks, for this is the will of God."

The words. So familiar she knew them by heart.

Choking down the bitterness that coated her throat, Hudson turned from the voice and ran through the shadows until an unexpected blow slammed into the back of her knees. She dropped face-first onto the concrete, her purse and groceries tossed to the ground. A shock of pain smashed into her nose and produced a deafening crack. She tried to crawl away, grabbing and clawing at the cement, then forced herself up and staggered forward, her legs weakened with fear.

A strangled cry erupted from somewhere deep inside of her but was extinguished by the stream of blood trickling down her esophagus. The scream turned into a choke, both losing momentum as they met her lips. She couldn't see him, but she knew he was there, dominating the darkness like he'd done before. Without warning, Hudson's hair yanked back and she teetered unsteady on her feet before the abrasive block wall scraped her tender skin.

"Please. Stop." She gasped. With her cheek pressed tight to the wall, her words sounded feeble as she pushed them from her mouth. Hudson thrashed back and forth, trying to free herself.

It was no use. He was much stronger, and nothing she could do would ever make him stop.

"May God himself, the God of peace, sanctify you through and through. May your whole spirit, soul and body be kept blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ."

White bubbles of spit formed at the corners of his mouth. Hudson didn't need to see them to know they were there. His hands moved clumsily against her bare thighs, pushing up her dress—or was it her school uniform? And just like before, a rush of cool air tickled her skin as the hem gathered around her waist.

"Sing the song I taught you."

But I'm scared."

"Sing the song and you won't be afraid."

"Where's Jonathon? Is he safe?"

"Shhh. No more questions. Now sing the song like a good little girl."

Hudson took a shaky breath and incited the words he always asked to hear. "The itsy bitsy spider went up the water spout. Down came the rain and washed the spider out ..."

She whimpered , her body rocking back and forth under his. The stench of his breath made her eyes water, but she couldn't turn away. All she could do was stare at the spit fizzing from the corners of his mouth, wondering if the white bubbles would drip into her hair. Onto her face. "I don't want to do this anymore. I don't like it."

He grunted and rolled away, his thing ugly and shriveled as it protruded from his body. "You've been called to serve under The Shepherd in the body of Christ. I am The Shepard. This is your job, Hudson. The job that's been appointed to you. But it's a secret you must keep. And you know not to upset the Lord. That would be a sin. And sinners go to Hell. Do you want to live with the Devil, Hudson? Do you want Jonathon and your parents to? Because that's where you'll all go if you disobey."

"I don't want to go to Hell," she whispered back.

But she couldn't do this anymore. It made her stomach ache. And often times, afterward, she'd throw up.

"That's my girl." He ruffled the top of her hair then pulled up his pants and buckled his black, leather belt. His gut squeezed over the top. "My sweet, little Hudson. God's special gift to the world ..."