Forty Seven

Forty-Seven

Ana

“W e need to stay away from the windows. Keep our heads down. We need to make him believe this house is empty.”

Cady’s explained what’s happening. Told me we need to play our part and now, once again, the cold, harsh, dangerous reality of this fucked-up world I chose to come back to is something I have to face head-on.

“They think this is going to work?” I ask as we hunker down on the top floor, a space I didn’t even know was there; a secret second floor with a tiny kitchenette, an even tinier bathroom, and a couch that pulls out into a bed. A floor accessible only through a secret door housed in a cupboard on the first floor, and a set of stairs that nobody could ever have known was there. There are no windows on this floor. No skylights. From the outside this space doesn’t exist.

“It’ll work,” Cady says as she spoons coffee into the machine. “I trust those men. You should too.”

It’s not that I don’t trust them, I do. But I’m scared, about so many things. This is all so surreal, like I’m living in a never-ending movie, and I want to be strong, I don’t want to be scared, but this still isn’t my world. But I’m beginning to realize it might be the one I have to live in, if I want to be with Joel.

“He’ll be okay, Ana.”

Cady’s voice drags me back from those thoughts, and I look at her. “I hope so.” But there’s something there, in the pit of my stomach; a feeling that isn’t letting up. A bad feeling. And I’m trying to ignore it, trying to put it down to nothing more than paranoia, I mean, everything about my life right now is strange and wrong and so fucking confusing. But this feeling…

“You need to eat. I’ll make you a sandwich,” Cady continues, and I wish I could be more like her. Or maybe she’s feeling the same shit I’m feeling and she’s just dealing with it better. And I open my mouth to tell her I’m not hungry but then I stop myself. It’s pointless, she’ll only wear me down until I finally give in anyway. “And then I’m going to take a shower.”

I watch as she assembles my sandwich, my stomach twisting up into an even tighter knot, there’s no way I can eat. But I’ll force something down if it keeps Cady happy.

“There you go.” Cady sets the sandwich down in front of me. “Your favorite. Chicken salad on rye.”

I’m grateful she’s here, I really am, but she doesn’t understand that the bad feeling in the pit of my stomach, it won’t go away. It isn’t subsiding, it’s getting stronger.

“Okay. I’m going to take a shower, then we can put a movie on. You can choose one.” She smiles and shuts herself away in the tiny bathroom, and the second I hear the water running I know exactly what I have to do…