Starting Over

Chloe's Consequences

Vivid illustrations of being arrested and thrown in jail plagued me as I tossed in bed. Every few minutes I woke with a startle, drenched in a cold sweat, heart racing. It's just a dream, I reminded myself, taking deep breaths to settle back to sleep, only for the nightmare to repeat. When Izaak finally shook me awake, I was grateful despite a pounding headache and horrible taste in my mouth.

"You're already dressed... What time is it?" I asked as I rubbed my eyes and stretched, sitting up.

He handed me a mug of hot tea and a plate with dry toast and a hard-boiled egg. "A little after six-thirty." His curt tone made me tremble.

Taking a bite of bread, I attempted to keep the conversation going, ignoring the blanket of tension hanging over us. "Running group is over?"

Izaak's face remained stoic and unamused, furrowed brows and tensed muscles hinting that he was still pissed. Dark half-circles rested under his annoyed eyes. "We didn't go. Working early today."

I nodded, continuing to eat and deciding to address the elephant in the room. "I am sorry for last night, ya know, I was just... wasted."

"Not as sorry as you're going to be, ya know." He stepped closer, taunting me with his height as if I were part of an interrogation. "I sense there's something you're not telling me."

My heart jumped and I turned away, biting my toast to stall. What does he know? I wondered, taking my time with swallowing and having a sip of tea before looking back up at Izaak's fiery scowl. "What do you mean? No, there's not."

The uncomfortable silence was heavy as I ate more, listening to my loud crunching and watching the teabag swirling in my cup, determined not to answer. What was I expected to say, anyway? I couldn't confess to stealing, and the rest was Violet's story.

Impatient with my lack of response, Izaak heaved a sigh and shook his head. "I guess we should wait and discuss it tonight in greater detail. But look at me." My blue eyes peered up to meet his serious gaze. "I expect the truth. Either way, I'll find out, but it's better I hear it from you."

I nodded meekly, tummy grumbling and appetite lost.

"Don't be late for work. And come straight home after, do you understand? No detours."

"Yes, sir."

Izaak softened long enough to lean forward and kiss my forehead, then pivoted to leave, forcing me to stay alone with my feelings. It kept me in bed long after my plate and mug were empty, ruminating over the trouble I was in. Fears from the nightmares echoed in my imagination, catastrophizing every worst-case scenario.

What would happen if he finds out the truth? Would he turn me in? I'll end up in jail, record scarred, never able to find a job or home, stuck in the same cycle as my dad, but without Granny to bail me out. Or if he doesn't rat on me, would he send me back to Michigan? Then I'll be on the streets, no friends or family to turn to, always running from the cops and looking over my shoulder. Or maybe he'd help me hide? No, that's not realistic. His career comes first.

I slumped under my blankets, ready to call in sick. I should escape while I can, before I bond too much with everyone, before my true identity is exposed. Eyes closed, I fantasized about life as a gypsy, never settling down and cutting off all social connections. I'd con all the assholes who deserved it, gifting half my earnings to their victims while using the rest to disappear over and over.

My body relaxed at the unrealistic illusion, and my breathing turned light as I drifted back to slumber, snapping out of it when my phone buzzed angrily. It was Molly.