16. Amy

16

It's been a week since I woke up in my bed with no memory of the auction. The way my body ached in the most delicious way wasn't a surprise, but I wasn't expecting the strong feeling of wrongness that clings to me, even now. Or how the worst ache has settled just beneath my ribs where my heart squeezes painfully with each beat.

One of the stipulations for agreeing to the auction was that I would clearly remember the agreement I made to auction myself, but beyond that, any memory of the night I had is completely gone. Instead, the two million dollars deposited in my bank account feels more like a vice strapped around my aching heart than a reward.

I tell myself that I'm relieved that it's over now. I did it. I went through with my end and now I can give my daughter the life she deserves. I immediately set up half of the money in a college fund for Molly. The other half I put into a much safer, high interest account that only I have access to.

To keep my mind from the aching loss I can't seem to shake, Molly and I have been packing up our little shit-hole apartment and we'll be moving into a brand-new town house in a much nicer part of town the end of the month. It's within walking distance of her school and we won't have to worry about keeping our blinds closed out of fear for who might be looking in.

I've also been in contact with a team of lawyers who specialize in custody disputes and family law. Chad and I are slotted to go back to court and this time I'll be armed with enough proof that there is no way I'll walk away with anything less than full custodial rights and a child support plan that he won't be able to wiggle out of.

Everything is working out the way it's supposed to.

So why can't I get over feeling like something is very wrong.

Missing.

Maybe all the stress I've been under is what's making my heart hurt. Maybe I should make a doctor appointment to check into that. This constant ache can't be anything good.

"Mom! Mom, come quick!!"

My head snaps up from the mountain of paperwork I'm trying to organize for my next appointment with my lawyers. Molly's shouts have me jumping out of my chair so fast that it topples over behind me. "What's wrong?" I cry as I race down the hall. "Are you okay?"

I practically fall into Molly's room where she's got her blinds open, and her face pressed to the glass.

"Mom, there's a cougar out there!"

"What? That can't be—" I step up behind her and cup my hands around the glass. The sun set hours ago but it's not fully dark yet. "I don't see anything. Are you sure it wasn't a dog?"

"I know what a dog looks like! He ran around the building," Molly starts wiggling past me. "I'm going to go look?—"

My hands clamp down on her shoulders, "You most certainly are not!" I steer her away from the window and down the hall to the bathroom. "If there is a cougar out there, it's a wild animal and needs to be left alone to find its way back to his home. Besides, I have to go into work early tomorrow and you're going to grandmas, so I need you to get into the shower. And no staying up late tonight."

Molly whines and slouches but does as she's told without much of a fight otherwise. After I've got her settled into her nightly routine, I make my way back to the little desk I have set up in the living room. I right the tipped over chair and then file the paperwork I was sorting when a loud growl has me dropping everything again. Paper floats around me to the ground as I race to the sliding door behind me.

I rip the blinds open and standing on my patio is a full-grown mountain lion. His ears lie flat to the back of his head, and he growls again, showing off fangs the size of my finger. He's so close to the door that his breath fogs the glass between us.

I should be terrified! Instead, tears well in my eyes before spilling down my cheeks as my legs go out from under me. The cougar paws at the door and I have a sudden urge to push it open and let him in. Which is crazy! What the hell is wrong with me?

Before I can do something stupid, I wipe my tears and pull the drapes shut before spinning on my heel to run to my room.