Eighteen Months Later.
Rachel
“Have a lovely evening, Lisa!” My boss shouted after me. I remembered to smile and wave just in time.
Damn, I really had to get better at this!
I had been using this name for more than a year, and sometimes I still paused longer than necessary before responding to it.
Luckily, most people just assumed I was absentminded, but I did get a couple of funny looks.
I blameGone Girl.
People were suspicious of a woman on her own, not responding to her name, all thanks to that movie. Can’t a girl just be on the run without people accusing her of being on the run?
Nosey fuckers.
But then again, that was just my paranoia. No one was thinking “oh, there she goes again. That deranged serial killer forgetting her own name!”
I chuckled to myself as I waved goodbye to the rest of the people in the office and made my way out of the building. I took a deep breath as the fresh air hit me and closed my eyes against the warmth of the sun.
I loved this time of the year. Scotland was fucking freezing more often than not. It made me really appreciate the little bit of warmth that we got.
I pulled out my phone and quickly fired off a text before I set off in the direction of the bakery to collect the cake I had on hold with them.
I frowned at my screen as I noticed I had over ten missed calls, but I simply shrugged it off. I didn’t have time for thistoday; I had a million things to do, and less than half an hour to get them done. Starting with the cake.
It had been a crazy eighteen months. Sometimes, in the rare moments when I had a moment to myself, I would look back on my memories and it all seemed like it was a surreal fever dream.
If it wasn’t for my daily reminder, I’d almost believe I was crazy enough to make up my life with Dante.
Thinking about him was dangerous, and I rarely allowed myself to do so. It was impossible not to, but so long as I didn’t dwell on it, I was okay.
I was here, and I was slowly adjusting.
Scotland was home now, and I was making a small life for myself, piece by piece. I had a lovely home, a job that paid the bills, and some lovely friends. It was agoodlife.
But was it the life you imagined when you were laying in his arms?
That was a thought I never allowed myself to answer.
I had planned to stay in America much longer than I had. Dante had secured me a stay with the Gellers, and they were more than happy to accommodate me for a while longer. Mr Geller wasn’t as interested in me this time, for obvious reasons, and that made Mrs Geller much more pleasant to be around.
However, after just a few weeks there, I knew I couldn’t keep on pretending.
Dante had once accused me of never living, just merely existing, and that’s exactly what would have happened had I remained in America. It wasn’t my home, and it never would be. I didn’t want to go back to being that version of myself.
I didn’t say goodbye to the Gellers. I left in the middle of the night, leaving my phone behind, and that was the end of it.
If Dante was still tracing me, that was the last time he would ever know my location.
I took myself off to a hotel, and for an entire month, I spoke to no one.
I slept, I ate, I bathed, and I cried. Fuck, did I cry. Months – years – of repressed emotions came flooding to the surface, and once the dam was broken, I couldn’t find a way to make it stop.
If I wasn’t crying, I was sleeping. I hadn’t realised how tired I was, and how much the war had affected me, until I finally lay my head down and allowed myself some peace.
The crying lessened, and the sleeping increased. I slept days away, only waking to eat.
