Randall’s ego was his Achilles heel.
And so, twice a week, I had two hours to get to the state park, explore the depths of the forest and the unforgiving cliffs of the Great Smoky Mountains as much as I dared to, and seek out that first hidden shelter which would be the starting point of a new life for Murphy and I. Randall would assume us dead. I knew he would. Anyone would. The trails in these parts weren’t meant to be left. Warning signs were everywhere – little stick figures displaying the dangers that awaited those who didn’t heed caution. The signs had often made me angry. They had no idea what dangers awaited me if I didn’t wander away from the safety of the trail.
I’d been scared at first – terrified that a park ranger would find me and put an end to my extra-curricular activities. Even worse, that a park ranger would find me, see whatever the most recent injury to my face was, and put two and two together. They always wanted to help. “They” – the great amalgamation of humanity. But experience had taught me that a trip to the police station – a restraining order – even a few days of Randall in jail – all of the “help” I’d received had only ever made things worse. There was no stopping Randall. He knew it. I knew it.
I had to disappear.
And lucky for me, unless they had reason to, it didn’t seem like the rangers traveled up the trails too incredibly far. So, after weeks of careful searching, I’d found it.
Now I just had to get us to it.
I’d underestimated two things that, in hindsight, were incredibly obvious. Number one, assuming Murphy would be able to stay quiet. He was three. Even under the best of circumstances, silence wasn’t something he was ever going to win a gold medal for. The falls, my panic, the fact that we were eventually running through thick encasements of trees – the branches smacking our faces and legs – it had all worked together to wholly freak him out. He was nearly howling.
My second misconception had been the belief that Randall wouldn’t put in any great amount of energy searching for us in such a landscape. He was abusive – evil – and I was positively sure at this point that he absolutely hated me (would even be glad if I were dead). But – we were his. We were property. He wasn’t just going to shrug it off when he returned to an abandoned picnic blanket. And whatever fears he had of the forest and the mountains in general were overridden by the adrenaline that his rage had pumped into his veins.
I could hear him trampling through the woods – branches breaking and his distant, angry yells getting closer and closer... He didn’t have a frantic three-year-old to carry. He was a big man with nothing weighing him down except for his violent mania; and frankly, that seemed to actually be making him faster.
“You poisoned me, you bitch! I know you fucking poisoned me!”
Closer. The spot was getting closer. But so was Randall.
“You won’t get away, Valerie! I can fucking hear you! Give me back my goddamn son! You scheming fucking bitch!”
He was going to catch us. He was going to catch us and probably kill me out here in the fucking wilderness where no one, aside from Murphy, would ever know a thing. And what would become of Murphy? Would he remember his mother’s tragic murder? Would he turn into another Randall? Would Randall kill him too?
I turned right at the fallen tree trunk that alerted me to the coming jump. It wasn’t large – a few feet at most – but I’d never attempted it with Murphy in my arms. After running this far carrying his substantial little body, the approaching jump was starting to seem much more insurmountable. The deep gorge beneath that three-foot stretch wouldn’t care how close I’d come to making it. If my feet didn’t make contact with the hard cliff surface on the other side, Murphy and I would both fall – and most certainly both die.
We were probably going to die anyway if Randall got his hands on us again. I saw the jump approaching – the safety of the tiny hidden hole I’d found in the mountainous rock only a few twists and turns from there. It occurred to me as I charged, holding Murphy to me with every ounce of strength that I had left, that this would all be for naught if Randall saw us jump. He would follow, and if he followed, I would have inadvertently trapped us in a hole that he would most certainly find.
I flew – no hesitation. My feet hit the rock on the other side with a painful jolt, and I turned to make sure that Randall hadn’t seen us. He absolutely could not know where we had disappeared to. It would be the ruination of the escape.
Randall’s hateful eyes seethed back at me from his predator-like position. He was maybe ten yards back, but he saw us, and he was charging like a bull now – intent, I was sure, on strangling me to death. Probably after a good punch or two – a gut kick maybe – whatever it took to make him feel like I had “paid” for my rampant insolence. And then he would end me.
I backed up, preparing to keep running and knowing it no longer mattered if I did. I hadn’t been fast enough. I’d failed at my own plan. And now I was going to come face to face with the consequences of that failure.
Randall was emitting a type of beastly growl now, and I froze – fixated on his face. His face that I had thought was so handsome all of those years ago when we first met. He had been kind to me – and no one had ever been kind to me before then. I’d fallen so desperately in love with him. I had thought that I owed him the world. We were going to be together forever and the days of being alone – an orphan who could only dream of what a real family felt like – would be over.
“I didn’t know who he was then. I’m so sorry,” I whispered into Murphy’s hair. He’d burrowed into my shoulder and I tried to enjoy – to take in this last moment of holding my sweet boy to me. The air was cool and fresh, the breeze intoxicating with the scents of the beautiful scenic nature surrounding us, and I closed my eyes – wishing I could somehow pause everything and live in that moment with Murphy forever.
The scream that came next, completely replacing the animalistic growl, was horrible – angry, infuriated, wrathful, and terrified. I opened my eyes and saw no Randall. But I heard him. No sound in the world was worse than that furious cry – except for the abrupt sound of collision as Randall’s body met with something much stronger than Randall. And then there was silence.
I walked slowly – so slowly – to the ragged edge of the cliff and looked down. Randall’s body was a tiny, misshapen heap that lay perfectly still at the bottom of the gorge. Horror shot through my body, and then... relief. He was dead. He was dead, and we were free.
But we weren’t. Not really. I just didn’t know it yet.
“Did I just hear Anne Johnson agree to a date?” Kate called out from the backroom. I had known she was listening – it was impossible not to in this tiny store. I struggled to make my facial expression as impassive as possible, but there was a humming, excited electricity flowing through my veins that wouldn’t be silenced.
I turned towards Kate as she approached the counter, a small smile still in place in spite of my efforts. “It was a bad idea. I gave him the store’s number. I’m just going to cancel when he calls. It isn’t safe.” I said all of these things with a great conviction that I didn’t actually feel.