Friday, April 22nd

Speeding down the highway at a hundred and thirty kilometers per hour, next to Frank, I look out the window and admire the views. Elizabeth Collins has only seen Detroit her whole life. Ashley McKenzie has just come into existence and has already seen more... What a lucky one.

I have to keep occupying my thoughts, steering them in the right direction. Otherwise, I would have gone crazy spending these few hours alone with the man. Despite his rather imposing stature, Frank doesn't seem dangerous. But my fears have a life of their own. They convince me that every male derives pleasure from the same things Jackson did. And if that's the case, the risk increases that Frank will stop the car at some point, somewhere out of sight, and try to harm me.

Suddenly, we pass a sign that reads "Welcome to Seattle," and I feel a knot forming in my stomach. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. "It'll be okay, you'll see," the man suddenly speaks up.

I open my eyes and turn my gaze towards him, but I don't look him in the eyes, just somewhere beside him. "How can you know that?" I ask.

"It's my job, and I'm damn good at it." The confidence with which he says it elicits a small smile from me. Please, please, please. Mr. Keller has quite the ego.

I turn my gaze away again, focusing on the view outside the window. I can already see skyscrapers from here, magnificent buildings, and a big Ferris wheel.

"Do people actually get on that for fun?" I ask, feeling uneasy.

"Yes, it's a big attraction here in Seattle. The views from up there are really beautiful. I've been a couple of times and I recommend it."

I can't help the memories that immediately flood my mind. I shake my head gently. "No, thanks. I prefer my entertainment on the ground," I say, toying with a lighter.

"Why? Are you afraid of heights?"

I grip the lighter tighter as Jackson's face appears before my eyes.

His eyes filled with hatred, staring angrily into mine. I can almost feel him grabbing my throat and squeezing so hard I can't breathe. He screams at me, but in my panicked state, I can't make out anything he's saying. He shoves me towards the open window. My back hits the windowsill, but he keeps pushing. My feet leave the floor, and air reaching my lungs becomes impossible. I can almost imagine Jackson pushing me out of the window any moment now, and that thought feels soothing. It will be the end of this hell. I'll finally be free. "You're a perpetual problem! You're good for nothing, damn it! It would be best if I killed you because that's exactly what you deserve, you bitch!"

"Elizabeth, are you okay?" Frank's voice pulls me back from the nightmarish memories.

"Yes, yes. Sorry, I got lost in thought." I turn my head towards him and smile gently, looking at my own hands. "Yes, fear of heights," I say, more to myself than to him.

After a short while, we drive up to the driveway of a large, two-story house. It looks clean and well-kept. The bushes and trees are nicely trimmed, the walls are snow-white, as if freshly painted, and a brightly red car stands a bit ahead of us, glistening in the sunlight. Vibrant red. Nice. This house resembles a villa, the kind I've seen in magazines and movies.

"So, this is where I'm supposed to live?" I ask, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the sight.

"Yes. It's nice here, isn't it?"

In response, I nod, but I don't say anything. Keller turns off the engine and unbuckles his seatbelt. "Ready?" he asks, glancing at me.

No.

"Yes," I reply, unfastening my seatbelt.

As I step out of the car, I almost feel myself shrinking. I become smaller and everything around me grows bigger.

Frank starts walking towards the door, so I hesitantly follow him. As we wait for someone to answer, I turn around and look around. The neighborhood seems peaceful and quiet. And rich. Nothing I'm accustomed to. The sound of the door opening distracts me, so I turn back around and meet the gaze of a woman with a wide smile on her face.

"Ashley, Frank, welcome," she says, then opens the door wider and gestures for us to come in. Once we're inside, I hear her close the door behind us and then she leads us to the living room. The house is just as beautiful and clean as I thought it would be when I saw it from the outside. Everything here seems so expensive, so I make a mental note not to touch anything or get too close to shelves and cabinets. I might accidentally knock something over.

"Please, have a seat," the woman says, gesturing towards the sofa.

So, I sit about half a meter away from the man, nervously intertwining my fingers on my knees. 

"Ashley, I'm Margharet," the woman says with a friendly smile. I return her smile and allow myself to get a closer look at her. Margharet is probably in her early forties, with long blonde hair and blue eyes. She's dressed in an elegant navy striped shirt and black pants. I glance at Keller, who's wearing a suit, and I start to feel uncomfortable in my old, oversized black hoodie and ripped jeans.

"I hope you'll like it here and that you'll quickly feel at ease and at home," the woman says, placing her hand on my knee and searching for my eyes. In a natural reflex, I want to pull away, her closeness overwhelming me, but I just bite my lip, gather my strength, and meet her gaze. Her eyes are almost the color of the ocean.

"Thank you, I hope so too," I reply softly. She withdraws her hand, and I feel cold droplets of sweat forming on my forehead. Suddenly, Frank speaks up.

"Ashley, I'll bring your things from the car, and during that time, Margharet will tell you what she has planned for today," he says, then gets up, sends me a small smile, and leaves. Margharet gets up and sits in a chair opposite me.

"What do you think of your new name?" she asks, smiling at me. She has a really friendly smile. I shrug lightly.

"I don't know. It's nice, although I prefer my own."

"I understand. It's probably going to be a bit hard for you to get used to the name change. And to your whole new life. I hope being here will help with that a bit. I've had the chance to live in a house where there was violence. I know how hard it is to shake that off."

I don't say anything, I just listen, playing with a lighter in my pocket. I don't know if it's good or bad that Margharet has also dealt with violence. On one hand, I realize how hellish it is, but on the other, I don't even know what to think about it. She seems too kind to raise her hand against me, so maybe I don't need to be so afraid?

"What plans do we have for today?" I ask after a moment of silence.

"As you know, we need to change your appearance. We'll go to the hairdresser's and then do some shopping. We'll have some time to talk and get to know each other. I really want you to feel comfortable here."

I smile upon hearing her words, although it all feels a bit overwhelming. I wonder why she agreed to take me in under her roof.

Keller enters the house with my bag slung over his shoulder.

"Where should I put this?" he asks.

"Oh, I completely forgot about that," the woman turns towards me. "Come, let me show you your room."

I nod and get up, then follow Margharet upstairs. There are several rooms on the second floor.

"This is my daughter's room, and this one belongs to my son," she says as we walk along the corridor. "And this used to be the guest room until now, but from now on, it's yours. You can decorate it however you like," she announces, opening the door to the last room. She stands at the threshold, waiting for me to enter. I lift my head and step in. In the middle of the room, there's a large bed covered with a creamy blanket and lots of white pillows, and to the right, there's a white desk and a spacious wardrobe. Sunbeams pour in through two large windows, illuminating the entire room.

"And there's your own bathroom," the woman says, pointing to the door on the left.

I feel overwhelmed by all my emotions. I've never even dared to dream of such luxuries, and I should be eternally grateful, but it's all so... Different, new.

"I'll place your things here, and when you come back home later, you can probably unpack and arrange things," Frank speaks up, putting my bag on the floor next to the bed.

"Is that everything?" Margharet asks, looking at me with concern in her eyes.

"Yes," I reply softly, looking at my small bag containing the last remnants of my old clothes that aren't torn enough to throw away, a notebook, and a few other trinkets.

The woman places her hands on her hips and falls silent for a moment.

"Alright, let's go then," she finally says, smiling at me and then at Keller. "We have quite a few things to do."

Margharet searches for her car keys for a moment, and in the meantime, Frank and I step outside. For a moment, I stand in silence, enjoying the warmth and the beautiful sky.

"Margharet seems really friendly. Maybe it won't be that bad," I smile at the man across from me. For the first time in a while, I feel hope filling my body, making the weight on my heart seem lighter. It's a strange feeling.

"Margharet is a wonderful woman. I'm sure you'll be fine here," he replies.

After a moment, Margharet exits the house and heads towards her car. I look at Keller again and for a split second, I want to hug him in gratitude. But I don't. I reach out towards him and say goodbye. He takes my hand and squeezes it.

"We'll see each other in a while when I come to check on you. Remember, if anything happens, you can call anytime. Keep your eyes wide open, danger can still be lurking around the corner. And smile more often."

"Thank you for everything," I reply, then head towards Margharet's car. I turn around once more. Watching Frank's car drive away, I feel a slight tightening in my stomach. He's gone...

Before I can get into the car, I stop, noticing that a coal-black car with tinted windows is pulling up to the house. After a moment, the engine stops, and a tall man steps out of the car. He turns, and our gazes meet. If I thought I'd never see bluer eyes, I was mistaken. It takes me a moment to snap out of it, and I quickly get into the car. I fasten my seatbelt as Margharet starts the engine, turning the key in the ignition. She pulls onto the street, and I watch the man in the side mirror. His gaze follows our car. He looks young despite the dark stubble and muscular build.

"This is my son, Xavier," Margharet speaks up, snapping me out of my thoughts. I turn my head towards her.

"He has your eyes," I say, studying her face to see if I can find any resemblance.

"That's the only thing he inherited from me," she laughs, shaking her head. "His looks and personality are from his dad."

"How old is he?" I ask curiously.

"He turned eighteen a few months ago," she replies, then turns on the radio. The car fills with the first chords of the song "In My Blood." I settle comfortably in my seat and look ahead, listening to the lyrics. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice that Margharet glances at me from time to time, but I don't react. I try to prepare myself for whatever awaits me today.