Page 24 of Breakaway

“There’s not much to barter with, I’m afraid,” I answer jokingly. “Just admiring the view.”

The upward tilt of his eyebrow indicates he doesn’t buy that for a second, but he’s respectful of my hesitancy to share and doesn’t pry any further. We stand in silence for a while, the two of us watching as night begins to claim the sky. It’s hard to believe that this is the same exact sun that set every day, unfailingly, for the past nine years. I guess that’s a harsh reminder that we might be traversing the same sea, but our modes of transportation aren’t the same. Some have luxury yachts, while others are making do with a dinghy. Me? I’ve been fighting the waves on a crudely built raft with no protection from the elements, but if I close my eyes, I can picture the shoreline I’m desperate to reach.

“Everything good with Hudson?” Raiden flanks my other side, the familiar scent of his cologne putting me at ease.

“I think so,” I answer truthfully, not confident enough to offer anything more concrete. His phone buzzes in my hand, and out of instinct, I check the screen to see who’s calling. Thinking the worst, I expect to see Seth’s name, but Mia stares back at me instead. “Um, this is for you.”

Catching sight of who it is, he grimaces and sends the call to voicemail. I refrain from asking any questions, but my thoughts are filled with all sorts of wild assumptions. I’ve kept up this charade he crafted regarding the apartment, but if there’s a significant other I’m unaware of and this arrangement is putting her out as well, that’s a problem. A part of me hates the idea of Raiden being involved with someone. Not once has he mentioned a girlfriend over the past seven months, but I’d be foolish to think I know every aspect of his life. I’m not entitled to the guys’ every thought, but I’d think after sharing such intimate things about myself, they’d be a little more forthcoming with basic information.

“Hey, Angel!” Briggs slurs, effectively ending the awkward moment between Raiden and me. “Come dance with me.”

“Okay, that’s enough for one night,” Colsen chimes in, plucking a half-empty beer from his friend’s hand.

“First you’re my drug dealer, and now you wanna play bartender too?” Briggs gripes, his unsteady footing making it obvious he started drinking well before any of their guests arrived.

“If you’d stop treating your prescription bottle like a fucking PEZ dispenser, then I wouldn’t have to.”

They go back and forth, trading blows for a good five minutes. Eventually, my eyes connect with Raiden’s, both of us silently communicating our need for an escape. It’s apparent that Briggs is struggling with some form of substance abuse, but I don’t think his personal issues need to be broadcast in front of everyone. We excuse ourselves from the private conversation taking place, but not before Rita snags my plate and heads to the kitchen. She places the barely eaten food inside a tupperware container, apologizing on the guys’ behalf as she walks us to the door.

“I know it doesn’t seem like it, but Colsen is only being so hard on him because he cares. Tough love isn’t easy.” Her sympathetic smile is genuine, but the explanation isn’t needed.

“It was great to meet you, Rita,” Raiden offers.

The tightness in my shoulders loosens the moment we’re safely tucked inside his apartment. I kick my shoes off and collapse against the couch, my social skills having been put through the wringer for the past two hours. Raiden puts my leftovers away and brings me back a bottle of water. I smile in thanks, too tired to move from my relaxed position among the cushions. His phone rings again, but he pockets it, choosing to ignore whoever’s trying to reach him. Instead, he kicks his shoes off and takes the other end of the couch.

My eyes grow heavy as he starts to scroll through a list of movies on one of his many streaming services. I slept for ten hours last night, but my tiredness is likely a symptom of pregnancy. I dread knowing what others are waiting in the wings. I’m fearful of falling asleep, worried that Seth might try to reach us and the call won’t be heard. But I’m also hopeful that Hudson’s episode was a one-off and his dad can handle things going forward.

It’s a grand idea, but the following weeks are nothing short of torturous. We make a dozen trips to the Taylor residence, with no end in sight. I grow to hate the mornings after, when I’m forced to leave Hudson and restart the cycle of separation. They say the definition of insanity is continuously doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different outcome. I think we’re on the brink of it, because no matter how hard we try, there’s never any lasting change with Hudson’s mood swings. But I don’t hesitate to drop everything when Seth calls, intent on keeping my promise to be there if and when he needs me.

16

Andilyn

“Let me get this straight,” Agent Samuels muses, his gaze pinned to the wall behind me as if he’s lost in thought. “This…organization…believes that heterochromia is indicative of the carrier having two souls?” His incredulity does nothing to ease my frazzled nerves, and before I can think better of it, a scoff escapes me. “Excuse my forwardness, but is there something about my line of questioning you find amusing, Ms. Adams?”

The frown line denting the young agent’s forehead deepens as he assesses me. I press my lips together, debating the proper way to answer. My annoyance has nothing to do with him as a person. I’m sure he’s only doing what’s been asked of him, but this process is never-ending. I’ve answered their questions to the best of my ability, and they’re still not satisfied. It’s been six weeks since the compound was raided, and the twice-weekly interviews have yet to slow. I understand the need for clarification, and why they’re being as thorough as they are, but when they’ve asked me the same thing a hundred times, it starts to grate.

I can’t help but wonder if the other victims are being questioned in the same manner. They were moved from the old high school within a few days of being released from the hospital, placed in more suitable accommodations while the interview process is underway. I’ve seen a few of them in passing, but I always avert my eyes, feeling ashamed that it took as long as it did to get us free. I know it was never my responsibility, but the brain is a fickle thing, and sometimes it refuses to believe what we know is the truth. I think about the others at least once a day. Are they struggling just as much as I am? Do they grow more frustrated with every interrogation? They might not call it that, but these conversations are certainly starting to feel that way.

At first they wanted information on Tobias specifically, since he’s being tried separately for the murder of LeAnna Taylor, as well as Hudson’s kidnapping. Since the other members of Veritas are facing a joint trial and there’s a mountain of evidence to pick apart, the agents spearheading the investigation have locked their sights on the easier of the two, going full steam ahead in their approach to build an airtight case. The public, as well as the victims they’ve amassed, are chomping at the bit for justice, and rightly so. Their trail of devastation is miles long, and it seems that no one is immune to the horrors they’ve enacted.

As the prosecution’s main witness, I know the outcome of Tobias’ trial will heavily rely on the testimony I give. No one else was present to overhear his whispered confession, which leaves us in a he-said, she-said situation, and since there’s no murder weapon to corroborate my claims, the only definitive working in our favor is the fact that Hudson was found on Veritas property. He can deny his involvement until he’s blue in the face, but that part is irrefutable, and I highly doubt any of the Elders are willing to be his scapegoat. Knowing all of this, and how crucial my word is to sealing his fate, I’ve obliged their every request and been more than willing to expand upon anything that required further clarification.

Based on how fast things are moving, it’s safe to assume they’re planning to make an example of Tobias. There isn’t a single person involved in this process who doesn’t think he’s responsible; it’s just a matter of proving it. The last thing any of us wants is to see him walk free because of a technicality. Once they’d gleaned everything they could about Tobias, their focus shifted to Veritas as a whole. And that’s where my frustration comes into play.

I can answer their questions, but what I can’t do is explain a cult-like mentality to people who’ve never experienced the persuasiveness they embody. How truly distorted their minds are to have crafted something so reprehensible, and yet they truly believe they’re doing the world a service. I’ve tried valiantly, for nine long years, to find a shred of logic in their warped belief system, but no one of sound mind and reason would amass a following built on such abhorrent teachings and see it as anything but wicked and wrong.

“It wasn’t my intent to offend you, but this is growing tiresome,” I state emphatically. “You’re searching for answers that don’t exist, and never will. There’s no plausible explanation for their insanity, so regardless of how far-fetched and bizarre any of you find their reasoning, it doesn’t make it any less true. You’re the fifth agent I’ve met with, and though the verbiage might change from time to time, the questions are fundamentally the same. I’m beginning to wonder if it’s explication you seek, or if the repetition is a tactic to catch me in a lie.” I caught on pretty early, based on the numerous agents I’ve been interviewed by, that ensuring my story remains consistent was of utmost importance. I can’t fault them for being meticulous, but I’d appreciate some candor.

He gapes at me, his shock apparent by the way he sputters, “No, not at all, Ms. Adams.” It takes concentrated effort to keep my eyes from rolling to the back of my head. “I assure you, we only want to understand the hows and whys of the case. It’s a lot to wrap the mind around, and when this goes to trial, we need to be absolutely certain our argument can withstand any doubt the defense attempts to plant. If I’m struggling to unravel the intricate braids of lies that Veritas has woven, it’s likely a panel of jurors is going to have the same issue. It’s imperative that we find any weak points and weed them out.”

His explanation makes me deflate. I brace my elbows against the table and close my eyes, taking a second to recalibrate. Agent Samuels doesn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of my annoyance; he’s just an easy target. I’m barely keeping my head above water, and this investigation might be the thing that finally pushes me over the edge. As expected, Tobias and the others were denied bail, so at least there’s comfort in knowing how miserable they must be. His arraignment was done and over with in a matter of minutes, but hearing him utter not guilty only served to aggravate wounds that had barely begun to scab.

Seth had been beside me, our positions in the back of the courtroom concealed from prying eyes, but the way his body vibrated with rage is something I won’t soon forget. I can only imagine how difficult it was for him to sit there and listen to Tobias deny any fault in his wife’s death. That day seemed to fracture the tenuous hold he had on his sanity, and any progress he’d made towards accepting his new reality seemed to dissipate in the blink of an eye. He’s all but given up at this point, and Hudson’s care has suffered greatly in the midst of his mental break.

I’m exhausted from all the back-and-forth trips that Raiden and I are taking at all hours of the night, but I can’t bring myself to deny Seth the help he so desperately needs. My hand-me-down clothes are verging on too small, yet I have no way of purchasing bigger sizes or an explanation that would warrant my need for them. Based on the ultrasound I had at the hospital, I should be thirty weeks by now. It feels like my stomach grew overnight, and it’s becoming increasingly difficult to hide that I’m pregnant beneath a baggy sweatshirt. I’m long overdue for a visit with the doctor, but I can’t bring myself to admit the truth to anyone. I’m a sinking ship, and the stress and secrets I’m shouldering are expediting my demise.

“I’m sorry,” I state matter-of-factly, compacting my emotions so I can focus on the reason I’m here. “I agree with your assessment, and there does need to be a degree of believability. However, there’s nothing I can add that would help achieve that. I’ve given you everything I know. Personally, I think the absurdity that Veritas operates under is the inherent reason why this should be the shortest deliberation in history. Cults aren’t known for their sanity, Agent Samuels. Their belief system is twisted to cater to the fulfillment they get from acting out their perverse rituals. The so-called defect they find fault in is irrelevant.