Just Breathe

Chapter 18

Action movies were always a hit in foster homes. For the weekly movie night, it was as safe bet to show an Indiana Jones or a Die Hard, rather than a rom-com (which would bore the boys) or an art house indie flick (which would bore everyone).

So Beth had pretty much seen them all. And she'd always wondered how she would fare in a life or death situation, captured and alone, at the mercy of a villain. She liked to imagine she would go down fighting, risking it all for her freedom, using her wits and her wiles to outsmart the antagonist and save the day.

The reality was very different.

Much to her shame, faced with her own captivity, the loss of her abilities and the knowledge that the world thought she was dead...she descended into a despondent stupor.

The hours blurred into days, and she spent them all curled in a ball on her cot, alternating between sleeping and staring at the sterile walls of her prison, trying not to think. About what violating drug her father would inject into her next. About the 'life' he was preparing for them in New York and what he would do to her there.

About Bruce.

She tried to avoid those thoughts most of all. It was too painful to remember their kiss. Too painful to remember the tiny slice of life they'd found with each other in the tower. Too painful to wonder what might have been between them...

So she consciously pushed those thoughts aside.

But her subconscious? Her subconscious was a heartless bitch.

The moment her eyes closed and she drifted into sleep, memories of Bruce would merge with impossible fantasies of an imagined life together, tempting and tormenting her until she woke with tears in her eyes and an empty heart.

She was grateful when her mind gave her a break from visions of Bruce, and supplied her with memories of her mother instead.

Because now she knew what she looked like; she shared the same warm, tan skin as Beth, and they had the same eyes and bone structure. It was no wonder Montrose recognised her at the party.

She also knew the books her mother would read to get her to sleep. She knew the sound of her laugh, and the smell of her hair.

And she knew how her mother had died.

They were running through the trees. Her bare legs stung with cuts from trampling past coarse shrubs, and her too-small shoes pinched her toes.

But they couldn't stop.

"We can't stop, Jennifer," her mom panted. She held her hand in a fierce grip and practically dragged Jennifer through the dark woods.

She didn't know how her mother had gotten them free. She'd simply woken to loose chains and her mother's frantic voice. "He just left. This is our chance, Jennifer."

So they'd ran.

And they kept running. Both figuratively and literally.

They hitchhiked with strangers, and stole rides in truck-beds. They journeyed for endless miles, weary with fatigue and the constant threat of discovery...until they finally reached the outskirts of New York City.

"We can disappear here, sweetheart," her mother said as they walked along the hard shoulder of the dark highway, the skyscraper lights just visible in the distance. "There are millions of people in New York - your father will never find us. We'll start a whole new life together."

But they never got the chance. A hit and run driver - most likely drunk - swerved onto the hard shoulder and came barreling towards them. Her mother pushed her out of the way and took the brunt of the impact. As she lay dying, her breathing wet and laboured, she urged Jennifer to leave her and keep going.