Unfortunately, the ugliness of my thoughts transmuted from Emmet to Lawrence. Apart from the previous night, my emotions had been so engaged with Emmet I had hardly thought about Lawrence. That was a disturbing silver lining to this whole incident. Though the unfortunate reality was in two short days I would be homeless and without the protection of a security guard or attack dog.
13
I was half way into my morning run when I felt I was being followed. I sped up my pace and tried to glance backward to see if it was just my vivid imagination or if my nightmares had come true. Eventually the shadow was close enough for me to see his face. It was Lawrence. Although at least one hundred feet away, I could see the hate and determination in his eyes. He was coming for me. He was going to kill me. My heart nearly exploded.
The faster I ran, the faster he ran until both of us were in a full sprint. My body was exerting every ounce of energy I had, but still, he was closing in on me. I cut through the park trying to get back to safety. Lawrence had almost caught me. I ran through the woods using my arms to grab on to anything that would help propel me forward. He was still on my heels. Finally out of the woods and into the clearing I had less than a half-mile to go. Lawrence emerged from the woods, but not alone. There were ten or twenty others with him; I didn’t slow down to count. I screamed and continued to run for my life.
I could see safety; it was just over the hill. I kept running. Finally, a few feet from the top of the hill, a few feet from safety, I looked back. Lawrence and the others were walking toward me. They knew something I didn’t…knew there was no escape. Then I saw it. In front of me was not safety. It was not the gated entrance to Emmet’s home. It was not the property guarded by a fierce attack dog. I had not run to safety, I had run to the edge of the quarry. The drop was more than one hundred feet with a shallow pool of water at the bottom. If I jumped, I would die. If I didn’t jump, I would die. I turned back to look at Lawrence. The others grew to an angry mob more numerous than I could count. As they came closer I began to recognize them. They were witnesses who had disappeared, jurors who had dropped out of sight, prosecutors, judges, and more. For every one I knew there were at least ten I didn’t. They were beaten and bloody and some of them looked dead. I took one final look at Lawrence, and dropped to my knees screaming as loud as I could; knowing no one would hear…
…then, I woke up.
I sat up covered in sweat, shaking and crying. It was still dark outside. My clock said 3:11. I leaned forward with my knees pulled to my chest covering my head with my arms, trying to calm myself down, but I couldn’t stop crying…shivering.
My bedroom door exploded open. I shrieked, held my hands up to shield myself, trying to scream.
“What is it?” I heard in an urgent male voice.
“No! No!” I was back in my nightmare.
“Annie, what happened?” He ran over to the balcony and looked outside. “Was someone in your room? Did someone attack you?”
This time I really heard him. Heard it was Emmet. But I couldn’t answer; I couldn’t breathe. He took a step toward me and reflexively I threw my hands back up. My scream was only a whisper; more like a cry.
Emmet stopped and waited patiently for me to lower my hands. I was breathing hard with little gasps like a child when she cries. My eyes were fixed on Emmet. I was still shaking but finally able to speak, though not quite coherently. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
“Annie, just nod. I’ll just ask you questions…you just nod. Was someone in your room?”
I shook my head.
“Did you see someone outside?”
I shook my head no again.
“Are you alright?”
I nodded yes, but I was feeling anything but alright.
He walked toward me and sat down so close to the edge of the bed he was barely on it. He put his hand on my shoulder and said softly, “Sometimes the nightmares seem so real, don’t they? Do want me to stay for a little while?”
My voice finally returned. “No, thank you. I’m fine…really,” I said, still wiping the tears from my face and neck.
“You don’t look fine,” he said with a warm smile. “Do you want to tell me about it?”
“No, I think I just need a shower. I...I might as well get up. I can’t sleep anymore.”
“Annie, it’s barely after three. Go back to sleep. I can stay with you, if you’d like.”
“I’ll be fine,” I said, trying to convince myself. I wished I could have asked him to stay. I slept restlessly for the next three hours. I sat up and looked at the clock: 6:22.
“Do you want some coffee?” Emmet asked as he causally stood at my door.
I held out my hands. They were still shaking. “Probably not a good idea for me to be holding scalding hot liquid just yet,” I answered with a weak smile.
“Well, I’m just down the hall if you need anything…let me know.” “It was only a bad dream. I’m fine now. Really.”
“Alright, if you’re sure.” And he slowly closed the door.
About thirty minutes later he knocked on my door. I was still sitting in bed.
“Still doing okay?” He asked from behind the door. “Yes, I’m much better. I was just getting up.”
“May I come in? I brought you some coffee.” He walked into my room before I answered.
“Thank you?” I said in a questioning tone, reaching out for the cup. He was relaxed this morning. His eyes were soft-a brilliant Caribbean blue. He looked down at me for too long. It made me self-conscious. Shifting his weight he exhaled, “Ahh…Annie, I have to go to the office for a couple hours today around noon. May I leave the boys with you?”
“Yes, of course.” “Are you sure?”
“Emmet, I’ll be fine after my workout with Harold this morning. I’ll come back right afterward. I’ll just need time for a quick shower. You could leave as early as ten, if you wanted.”
He had more to say, but nodded tentatively and left my room. I was one completely open nerve. Slowly, I showered the liquid panic from the nightmare off my body and dressed for my workout. It was barely past seven. I changed the sheets on my bed and did a bit of laundry trying to keep busy, trying to distract myself from my awful dream. Finally, it was time to head to the studio for my workout.
Despite my terrible night’s sleep, Harold and I had an amazing session. I think I was able to relieve all my frustrations and anxiety from the last few days. He even commented that my fighting today was much more aggressive than it had been before. I didn’t mention what had gone on with Emmet or my nightmare of Lawrence; I just took the opportunity to channel my fear and hostility toward my kickboxing efforts.
Once I returned home, the boys were waiting to put the finishing touches on the scrapbook they were going to give their father the next day. We worked together to get Emmet out the door and then went up to my room. The boys added a few more personal touches, we wrapped it up, and Josh hid it in his closet. I spent a little time with the boys gently explaining how their dad had found my memory card with the pictures and the conclusion he jumped to. I did my best to help them understand that their father was very protective of them and he was just acting in their best interest. I had no intention of telling them he had fired me, but Josh asked me point blank.
“So did he? Did he fire you?”
The only word I uttered was, “Well.”
“Sounds like he fired you, huh,” Josh responded, gently patting my hand. “Don’t worry, Annie. I’ll get you your job back. Dad will listen to me when I explain everything.”
“Yeah,”