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Gone. She blinked again, despair rising up in her, stealing her breath. The past, her former life. John. All gone.
Pulling her coat tighter around her, she turned and walked away.
3
Julia
For the monster.
John. That had been him on the street. He had found her. He was with her now. Fear took her breath; it became a living thing inside her.
Inside her. She brought her hands to her swollen belly, half expecting to find it split wide, intestines and fetus and gore spilling out of her and onto the white sheets. Instead, she found herself intact, her belly round and hard and full.
Thank God…thank God… She closed her eyes and struggled to slow her ragged breathing. If John had been here, he would have killed her. He would have cut her open, punishment for her disobedience. Her defiance.
The way he had cut those other people open, the ones from Clark Russell's photographs.
"Don't cross me again, Julia
She brought her fists to her eyes. He hadn't found her; how could he have? She had done almost everything Clark had advised her to do-she had run far from D.C., never stopping too long in one place; she hadn't used her credit cards for fear of leaving a paper trail, hadn't called or written home. She'd even had her car repainted in Louisville.
But not everything. He had advised her to change her name, take on a new identity. But that had been impossible. She'd tried, but hotels wanted identification; she needed a driver's license in case she was pulled over; Buster had demanded a social security number as a prerequisite for employment.
Julia
Shuddering, Julia
A part of her couldn't believe it even after the nightmare of their last meeting.
She closed her eyes and remembered how it had been with them, not that last night, when John's face had been pinched and white with rage, his touch rough, his cruelty incomprehensible to her. No, she remembered how it had always been with them before, how gentle he had been as he held and petted her, how patient with her, how he had promised her the world.
For nothing more than being his good little girl.
His good little girl. Docile and sweet. The child who looked up to him as one would a parent, trusting, never questioning. The child who accepted his bidding as law.
Tears flooded her eyes. John had been her everything for as long as she could remember. Her tears spilled over and slipped down her cheeks. She needed him. To love her. To take care of her. The way he always had.
This was all a mistake; the events of the last months just a terrible nightmare. She could get rid of the baby, she thought, breath catching on a sob. As he had demanded she do. Go home and beg his forgiveness. For disobeying him. For taking his things. For going to her mother and believing her and Clark over him. She could promise to be his good girl again. He would forgive her, he would. He-
No, she thought. He wouldn't. He was angry with her. Furious. Julia
She had been so excited, so certain John would be thrilled with her news. Instead, he had become a man she hadn't recognized, coldly furious and cruel.
As was their custom, she had arrived at his apartment early so she could be waiting in bed for him, curled up under the covers like a sleepy child. Julia
The kind of gown a little girl would wear.
John's little girl…
She wiggled down under the covers more, and her soft fla
She worked to quell the latter, though without much luck. Her heart beat almost out of control, her mind raced with what she would say to John and how he would respond, with thoughts about the future, their future.
Pregnant. Twelve weeks and one day. Though she had deliberately stopped taking her birth control pills in the hopes this would happen, she could hardly believe it was true.
She was a woman now, finally.
Julia
John would give her what she wanted. He always had.
She pressed a hand to her nearly flat stomach, imagining the future. She wanted her and John to be a real couple, like the ones she saw on TV. Real lovers, the way men and women were lovers in books and in movies. Passionate and committed. And…and adult.
Julia
She rolled onto her left side and again the soft fabric of her gown tickled her legs. Sudden tears stung her eyes. She had prowled through the lingerie sections of the department stores, longing to wear the sexy, sheer clothes most women wore for their lovers; she had gazed with hunger at other men and women, other lovers, and the way they looked at and touched each other.
John treated her differently than that. Gently. With love, respect and tenderness. Which was good. But still… She wanted more. She wanted passion. Lust. Even the occasional argument.
She heard John at the front door. Quickly, she closed her eyes and breathed deeply, rhythmically, feigning sleep.
This was part of their game. One they had been acting out ever since the first time, so many years ago.
Only then, it hadn't been a game. It hadn't been an act.
Her bedroom door opened; light fell across the bed. A moment later the mattress dipped as he sat on its edge.
For long seconds he said nothing, and she knew he simply gazed at her. As always, she fought the urge to open her eyes and look at him, fought the urge to attempt to read what he was thinking in his eyes.
"Julia
"John?" she whispered, letting her lashes flutter up, feigning sleepy confusion. "You're back?"