Interlude

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Her phone was nagging her. It was silenced, but she still kept it in the spare room, because the sound of it vibrating was enough to cause panic. Still, she checked it at least once a day, only to find multiple missed calls and messages from her mom, Rebecca, and many other concerned friends and coworkers.

Coworkers who hadn't died on that godforsaken plane, anyway.

Many of the messages, she ignored, lacking the energy and trust required to call or text anyone back. Mom's messages, though . . .

Mom's messages broke her heart. They were always so sweet, and so loving, just like the woman herself. She would say in voicemails, "Hi, baby. I hope you're doing alright. I planted some daisies today, for you. Maybe you can come and see them, some time? Or I can bring some there, once they bloom. I miss you, sweetheart. I love you."

And then Liza would start crying, because damn it if she didn't miss her mom too, but she couldn't even call her back, because her hands shook too badly, and she was scared, because if she called her mom, then what if her mom was able to find where she was living? Liza couldn't handle anyone stopping by, even her mom. It would be a person other than herself, in her space, and what if they did something? What if they messed something up, and everything went to shit, just like on the plane?

She loved her mom. She did. But her mind was too frantic and filled with static, and she couldn't place her trust in even her own mother.

Eventually, she turned the phone off, just so she didn't have to be reminded of what a horrible failure she was becoming.

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