Taken

Epilogue

Alright guys, this is indeed, the end.

PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE READ A/N AT THE END

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Epilogue

“I don't know if I want to do this, Damien.” Eying the building before me, I hesitated, my split second decision catching up with me at that moment. “I don't know if I can,” I admitted right after, my voice softening. My stomach churned as I continued to stare at the imposing, gray building. Why did it have to look so depressing and sad?

“You don't have to. You shouldn't be pushing yourself as it is. It was just a suggestion.” he stated, placing a single large hand over my swollen abdomen. It had been a long, draining year and a half to say the least, but I was happy; pregnant, married, and happy. The first two months of my pregnancy had been the hardest two of my life. Because of the strange make-up of my genes, Mary wasn't sure if the baby would've made it. However, now four months along, she was positive everything would continue to go smoothly.

Damien still worried, of course, as in his nature.

“I know, but she deserves the benefit of the doubt, right? I mean... she's trying,” I whispered, eyes still trained on the facility before me. Earlier that year, we had received news on my mother. After my fathers death, along with prostitution, my mother had taken up drugs and alcohol, becoming almost unbearable. After things had settled down after Luke, me and Damien had decided to keep an eye on her. I didn't want much to do with my old life, but I at least wanted to make sure she was okay.

It's easy to say that, when we received news that she was searching for help for her addictions, I was thrilled. Damien was willing to hire a personal lawyer to help her pay and enter a rehab center.

That's where I stood at the moment.

“She is trying,” he mumbled, pulling me closer. “But I don't want you to stress yourself out. It's bad for you and-”

“And the baby, I know,” I chuckled softly at him, patting his hand. “But, it's something I need to do.” I replied, sobering up. He sighed and took my hand in his. Giving me one more look, as if asking I was sure, he started pulling me towards the main entrance. I stumbled along behind, mentally preparing myself.

I didn't have a plan if she asked where I had disappeared to. I supposed I could tell her part of the truth; tell her I met someone who I knew could save me from the life I had. It might be a little harsh, but at this time in her life, when she's trying to recover, that's exactly what I figured she'd need. I didn't know how many questions she'd ask me, or what kind; I didn't even know if she was in the right state of mind yet to ask any.

To tell the truth, I felt at the moment that I had more questions for myself. What was I to do if she did ever completely sober up? Ignore it, refuse to bring her into my new life? Did I try and patch up the relationship and tell her as little as possible about how I met my husband?

I shook my head as Damien pulled me through the front door, telling myself to stop. All I needed in life from now on was Damien; I could figure everything else around that.

“Meredith Peterson, please.” I took a deep breath as the receptionist behind the desk nodded, quickly searching through her files. Damien gave my hand a squeeze, reassuring me and sending me quick smile. I gave him a small one back, merely grateful for the effort; I doubted much would have calmed me at that moment.

“I'll just need you to sign these papers and identify your family relation. You are her...” she looked at me, letting her sentence trail off.