Page 4 of Welcome Home
He raises his hands. “Don’t…” It comes a moment too late and before he can finish, I'm out the door bolting across the yard towards the gate I just had to fucking shut. “Help! Help!” I scream at the top of my lungs, my fingers claw at the latch. The blanket covering my body long forgotten as one of my grown-out nails snap off against the wood.
I grunt as I'm jerked backwards, the air abruptly stolen from my lungs as hepicks me up by my neck, holding it hostage as he drags me back towards the house. I gasp for air as he-He?releases my throat, slamming and locking the door behind him, leaving me there exposed gasping on the cool kitchen floor. “Cora, please, you don’t need to be afraid of me.”
“Who are you?” I blurt out, regretting it the second I do. Another flash of something in his eyes…something that shakes me to my already fractured core. “I'm Oliver Jenson Neilson, your husband. You’re Cora Lynn Neilson, my wife.”
I flinch, scooting back until I hit the island, another bout of dry heaves overtaking my body. He groans squatting down and resting his elbow on his knees before burying his head in his hands his wavy strawberry blonde hair hanging messily over his fingers. “Sorry, I'm fucking it all up, aren’t I? I just thought-“ He stops short, leaning his head slightly to the side as if he’s hearing something I can’t. His eyes darken as he begins working his jaw. “Go upstairs and get dressed, please.”
“Who are you?”
“Cora…now.” He orders, cracking his neck as he stands, pulling me with him despite my feeble objections. I suck in a shuttering breath. I’ve never seen him crack his neck before…
Because this isn’t Oliver. Obviously.
He ushers me over to the stairs and I'm halfway up when I hear the sirens. Both dread and relief filling my chest. I'm safe. They’ll take this man away and…
And what Cora?
What will they do next?
He steers me to the bed, heading to our closet like he has millions of times before. When he re-emerges holding one of his t-shirts and a pair of sleep pants, depositing them in my lap, I frown. Oliver would never have picked his things. Not when there’s a hundred pressed, skintight dresses and tailored blouses to match. Things I’ve worn as little as possible since he’s been gone. The sound of car doors come only seconds before a pounding at the front door.
“Fuck.” He mumbles, running his hands through his hair before leaving me and heading down the stairs. My muscles act on memory as I dress myself, blowing my nose and splashing the crud from my face before I make my way down after him on shaky legs. The baffled faces of two policemen find mine as Oliver stands off to the side of the living room. Answering the numerous questions, I'm sure they have. One breaks off, meeting me on the steps before motioning for me to sit on one. I do. Half surprised my shaking legs carried me this far. My mind and body are too fucking exhausted to make sense of anything, let alone fight.
“Mrs. Neilson, are you alright? We got calls about screaming coming from your home.” He asks, his eyes darting towards Oliver. I don't answer. How can I? I'm not okay. I'm in danger, so much danger. I think. It’s on the tip of my tongue. All of it. Every gritty, dirty detail that led me to this moment.
“Yes. I'm fine.”
Oliver pushes off the wall where he had been leaning casually. “As I said Officer, my wife was a little unsettled by my sudden return. It was my fault, really.”
The cop by him gestures towards me. “And your arm?” I look down, staring at the wrapping there. The blood oozing into the gauze. I open my mouth and close it.
The best lies come from shards of the truth. Speak Cora.
“I was showering when he got here. I panicked and slipped.” Still not sure how I managed to cut it now that I say it out loud. The one next to me nods. “Mr. Neilson, for obvious reasons, we’ll need you to come down to the station. Both of you. Detective Rappert is already on her way there to get your statement.
Oliver stares at him, his honey eyes cold and empty. “I fail to see the obvious part.”
“You've been a missing person for nearly six months, sir.”
Oliver shifts on his feet before turning his attention towards me. “Cora, is that okay with you?”
What?
I tense as he heads towards me. A dazed nod is all I can manage. Fighting the urge to retreat behind the officer to my side. He stops in front of the stairs, all six foot two inches of him towering over me. His lean muscles defined underneath his t-shirt as he reaches out lightly capturing my chin with his deft fingers. My heart sputters and my knees wobble as he leans down, pressing his lips against mine. The kiss is heavy and long. Testing even. The timid and hearty way the guy you’ve been dating kisses you for the first time on your doorstep. I don’t return it.
I need to vomit.
“I'll be back soon, my love.” He whispers as he pulls away. You’d think nobody was in the room except for me. Nobody in the world the way he looked at me. All the love and affection I’d begged for years, staring me right in the face before he turns to leave with the officers. Grabbing his keys from the entryway table.
The officer at my side stands. “It would be best if you came along, ma’am. Rappert will want to speak to you too.”
I falter for only a moment before Oliver speaks with such finality it leaves no room for arguments. “No. As you can see my wife has had quite the afternoon. If you want a statement from her, it will be through our attorney. I have no doubt you’ve questioned her enough in my absence.” They both set their jaws before nodding and heading out of the house towards their cars. I keep my eyes glued to Oliver as he follows behind them, casting me one more unreadable glance before he walks out. Somehow it feels like a warning, but a desperate one. I just sit there staring at the door. My life has been full of uncertainty for the past few months. The past year even, I found out the hard way there’s little in life you can be sure of. That you can count on. One thing I am absolutely positive… is that whatever, whoever thatthingis…he is not my husband.
3
You Look Like Yourself
Theminutessoongiveway to hours as I pace frantically around the kitchen, my gut churning like the ocean not far from our backyard.
