Chapter 85: Separation Anxiety

[Jason’s POV]

The door slams shut with a thunderous bang, jolting me awake. My eyes fly open as I bolt upright, Lindsey’s name tearing from my throat in a hoarse scream. The sound echoes off the dingy motel walls, fading into an eerie silence.

“What a stupid dream,” I muttered, running a hand through my sweat-dampened hair. My heart races, the remnants of it clinging to the edges of my consciousness like cobwebs. “I can’t believe I forgot to ask her if Casey Anthony really did it.”

My eyes dart around the room, searching for Tessa’s towering form. The events of the night before come rushing back in a dizzying flood, the gun, the threats, the violation. My stomach churns, bile rising in my throat.

It’s then that I notice my hands are free. The silky black rope that had bound my wrists is gone, leaving behind angry red marks that throb with each beat of my pulse. I flex my fingers, wincing at the pins and needles sensation that races up my arms.

“Huh?” I mumble, confusion clouding my thoughts.

Suddenly, a familiar sound cuts through the morning quiet, the distinctive rumble of Erica’s car engine. My heart leaps into my throat as I scramble out of bed, nearly falling as my feet tangle in the cheap polyester sheets. I stumble to the window, yanking aside the grimy curtains just in time to see Tessa in Erica’s sleek car peel out of the motel parking lot. Without me.

“Huh?” I repeat, my voice rising in pitch as panic begins to set in. The taillights of Erica’s car disappear around a corner, leaving nothing but a cloud of dust in their wake.

I spin around, my eyes wild as I take in the empty motel room. Tessa’s things are gone. On the pillow beside where I slept, a folded piece of paper caught my attention.

With trembling hands, I snatch up the note. The handwriting is messy and hurried, nothing like Tessa’s usual elegant script:

‘Jason,

I’m sorry for everything. What we had was real, but I did not have a strong enough resolve to keep you. I’ve deleted the videos. You’re free. Please don’t hate me.

P.S.- I had to steal some of your money to help me go on the run.

Again, please don’t hate me.

- Tessa’

The paper crumples in my fist as a wave of emotions crashes over me, relief, confusion, anger, fear. I sink to the floor, my back against the bed, as the full weight of the situation settles on my shoulders.

“What the fuck is going on.”

I stare at the crumpled note in my hand, my mind reeling. The words blur before my eyes, seeming to dance and shift on the page. Without thinking, I bring the paper to my mouth and start chewing. The taste is bitter, the texture dry and unpleasant, but I force myself to keep going. I need to destroy the evidence and erase any trace of Tessa’s admission about the videos.

‘That was one of the worst written letters i’ve ever seen in my entire life. My god my diary had more substance than that.’

As I swallow the last soggy bits of paper, I lean back against the bed, my thoughts swirling like a maelstrom. What the hell am I supposed to do now?

I pat my pockets, searching for my phone, but come up empty. “Shit,” I mutter, realizing Tessa must have taken it with her. I’m truly alone, stranded in this dingy motel room with no way to contact anyone.

The GPS tracker embedded in my body suddenly comes to the forefront of my mind. I know I should probably stay put, wait for Erica or the authorities to find me. But the thought of sitting here, doing nothing, makes my skin crawl. I’ve never been good at being idle, especially not after everything that’s happened.

A wave of frustration washes over me. This isn’t how it was supposed to end. In my mind, I’d pictured a dramatic confrontation, a chance to face Tessa and make her pay for what she’d done. But instead, she just... left. Ran away like a coward, leaving me with nothing but a half-assed apology and an empty room.

“I really wanted her eyes.” I sigh. “But not in a weird way. I’m not developing a fetish.” I say out loud to God or whoever the fuck was pretending to be Lindsey last night.

I close my eyes, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging inside me. But all I can see is Erica’s face, her blue eyes blazing with fury as she hunts Tessa down. In my mind’s eye, I watch as Erica corners Tessa in some remote location, her movements fluid and predatory.

I imagine Erica’s hand wrapping around Tessa’s throat, squeezing tighter and tighter as Tessa gasps for air. In this fantasy, Erica’s voice is low and dangerous as she whispers, “You thought you could take him from me? He’s mine. Forever.”

The mental image is so vivid, so visceral, that I can almost hear the crack of Tessa’s neck as Erica snaps it with one swift motion. A feeling of horniness washes over me as I picture this.

“Let’s watch TV.” I try to throw cold water on my thoughts before I get lost in something beyond myself.

*****

I slouch in the hard plastic chair, the scratchy police-issued blanket draped awkwardly over my shoulders. The steaming mug of hot cocoa sits untouched on the metal table, its sickly sweet aroma mingling with the harsh antiseptic smell of the interrogation room. The fluorescent lights overhead buzz incessantly, casting a harsh glow that makes the dingy beige walls look even more depressing.

Across from me sits Officer... Crawford? Jennings? I can’t remember her name, and at this point, I’m too tired to care. Her eyes are wide with concern, brimming with unshed tears as she looks at me like I’m some sort of wounded puppy. It’s starting to get on my nerves.

“I just can’t imagine how worried your mother must be,” she says for what feels like the hundredth time, her voice thick with emotion. “As a mother myself, even though I don’t have a son, the thought of my child going through something like this... it’s unthinkable.”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes, settling instead for a deep, exasperated sigh. “Look, Officer,” I begin, my voice flat with exhaustion, “I appreciate your concern, I really do. I just want to go home and be with my girlfriend.”

The Officer leans forward, her chair creaking under the shift in weight. “Jason,” she says softly, using my name in that annoyingly maternal tone, “what you’ve been through is traumatic. It’s okay to not be okay.”

I take a deep breath, trying to quell the frustration bubbling up inside me.

“Officer,” I begin, my voice low and tinged with weariness, “I understand. I really do. And you’re right, I’m not okay. Not by a long shot.” I pause, swallowing hard against the lump forming in my throat. The words taste bitter on my tongue as I force them out. “This... this isn’t even my first rape.”

The admission hangs heavy in the air between us, seeming to suck all the oxygen from the room. The Officer’s eyes widen, her mouth falling open in a silent ‘oh’ of shock and sympathy. I press on before she can interject, the words now flowing like a dam has broken.

“But what I need right now, more than anything, is my girlfriend. Erica... she’s my rock, my anchor. She knows me in ways no one else does. She’s seen me at my lowest and helped me through my darkest moments. I need her to start the healing process. Without her, I feel Lost.”

As if summoned by Allah, the door suddenly bursts open with a resounding bang. Erica stands in the doorway, her blonde hair windswept and wild, her blue eyes blazing with a desperate intensity. She looks at me like she hasn’t seen me in ten years, her gaze drinking in every detail of my face as if to reassure herself that I’m really here.

The sight of her hits me like a physical blow. All the emotions I’ve been holding back come rushing to the surface in an overwhelming flood. Tears spring to my eyes, blurring my vision as I stumble to my feet. The scratchy blanket falls to the floor as I cross the room in three long strides.

“Erica!” I cry out, my voice cracking with emotion. I throw myself into her arms, clinging to her like a lifeline. Her familiar smoky scent envelops me, and I bury my face in the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply.

“We are so back!” I yell, my words muffled against her skin but no less fervent. “We are so fucking back!”

Erica’s arms wrap around me, holding me so tightly it’s almost painful. But I welcome the pressure, the physical reminder that she’s here, that she’s real. Her hands roam over my back, my arms, and my face as if checking for injuries.

“Jason, my love,” she murmurs, her voice thick with emotion. “My precious boy.”

She pulls back just enough to look into my eyes, her gaze intense and filled with a fierce, possessive love that takes my breath away. Then her lips are on mine, kissing me with a desperate passion that makes my head spin.

“I love you,” she says between kisses, each word punctuated by another press of her lips against mine. “I love you so much. You’re mine, Jason. Always and forever mine.”

I kiss her back with equal fervor, pouring all my love, relief, and need into the connection. My hands tangle in her hair, holding her close as if afraid she might disappear if I let go.

“I love you too,” I gasp when we finally break apart for air. “God, Erica, I love you more than anything in this world.”

We stand there, foreheads pressed together, breathing each other’s air. The rest of the world fades away, narrowing down to just the two of us in this moment. I can feel Erica’s heart racing against my chest, matching the frantic beat of my own.

The Officer watches our reunion with misty eyes, a soft smile playing at the corners of her lips. Her expression is one of pure maternal joy, as if she’s witnessing her own child’s happily-ever-after moment. She clasps her hands together, pressing them to her chest as she lets out a contented sigh.

I reluctantly pull away from Erica’s embrace, my cheeks flushing as I remember we’re not alone. Clearing my throat awkwardly, I turn to the Officer. “Um, can we... can we go now?” I ask, my voice cracking slightly.

The Officer’s smile falters a bit as she shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Jason, but we still need to take your statement about what happened. It’s a crucial part of the investigation.”

I feel my heart sink, the thought of reliving the ordeal making my stomach churn. Erica must sense my discomfort because she steps forward, her posture changing subtly. She stands taller, her chin lifted slightly, exuding an aura of authority that seems to fill the room.

With fluid grace, Erica reaches into her back pocket and pulls out a sleek leather wallet. Her movements are deliberate and confident as she fishes out a small white card. She approaches the table where the Officer sits, her heels clicking sharply against the linoleum floor.

Erica places the card on the table and slides it towards the Officer with two perfectly manicured fingers. “We’ll be happy to provide a written statement after consulting with our lawyer,” she says, her voice smooth and professional.

The Officer picks up the card and reads it. Too my surprise, the Officer simply nods, a look of understanding crossing her face. “Of course,” she says, her tone respectful. “That won’t be a problem at all. We can arrange for the written statement to be submitted at a later date.”

I blink in confusion, taken aback by how easily Erica has managed to navigate this situation. The tension in the room dissipates almost instantly, replaced by a sense of calm efficiency.

‘Was it literally that easy the whole time?’

Erica turns to me, a small, triumphant smile playing at the corners of her lips. She extends her hand, and I take it without hesitation, marveling at how safe and protected I feel with her by my side.

*****

The SUV hums along the highway, its powerful engine eating up the miles as we speed towards home. I sit in the passenger seat, my body angled towards Erica as she drives.

I’ve just finished recounting the events of the past 24 hours, my voice growing hoarse from the lengthy explanation. As I speak, I watch Erica’s expression darken, her jaw clenching tighter with each passing minute. Her knuckles turn white as she grips the steering wheel, the tendons in her hands standing out in stark relief.

Suddenly, Erica explodes, her voice filling the confined space of the car. “I can’t fucking believe it!” she screams, her words sharp and jagged with fury. “That bitch bugged our room? And then she had the audacity to blackmail us?”

Her outburst makes me flinch involuntarily, my body tensing as if preparing for a blow. The rational part of my brain knows Erica would never hurt me, but the trauma of recent events has left me jumpy and on edge. My heart races, and I can feel a cold sweat breaking out across my skin.

Erica continues her tirade, her voice rising in volume and intensity. “I’m going to kill her, Jason. I swear to God, I’m going to hunt her down and make her pay for what she did to you!”

As she rants, her right hand leaves the steering wheel, moving to rest on my thigh. The touch is gentle, a stark contrast to the violence of her words. Her fingers begin to move in small, soothing circles, the familiar gesture of comfort at odds with the fury in her voice.

“She had no right to touch you,” Erica seethes, her eyes fixed on the road ahead but blazing with an inner fire. “You’re mine, Jason. Mine to love, mine to protect...”

Erica must sense the shift in my demeanor because her tirade suddenly cuts off mid-sentence. Her hand on my thigh stills, and I can feel her gaze flicking between me and the road ahead.

“Jason?” she says, her voice softening with concern. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

I swallowed hard, and my throat suddenly dried. “I... there’s something else,” I manage to croak out.

Erica’s brow furrows, a mixture of worry and residual anger clouding her features. She signals and pulls the SUV onto the shoulder of the highway, gravel crunching under the tires as we come to a stop. Shifting in her seat to face me fully, she takes both of my hands in hers.

“What is it, baby?” she asks, her thumbs tracing soothing patterns across my knuckles. “You can tell me anything, you know that.”

I take a deep breath, steeling myself. “Something else happened while I was sleeping,” I begin, the words tumbling out in a rush.

Erica’s expression darkens instantly, her grip on my hands tightening. “That bitch,” she snarls, fury reigniting in her eyes. “She took advantage of you while you were asleep?”

“No!” I exclaim, shaking my head emphatically. “No, it wasn’t... it wasn’t like that.”

Confusion replaces anger on Erica’s face. She leans back slightly, her head tilting to one side as she studies me. “Then what happened, Jason?”

I close my eyes for a moment, trying to organize my thoughts. When I open them again, I’m met with Erica’s patient, loving gaze. It gives me the courage to continue.

“I think... I think I met God,” I say, the words sounding ridiculous even as they leave my mouth. “Or something like God? It didn’t actually say what it was. But it took the form of Lindsey.”

Erica’s brow furrows as she listens to my explanation, her expression shifting from concern to confusion to something that looks unsettlingly like pity.

“Jason, honey,” she says gently, reaching out to cup my cheek. Her touch is warm and comforting, but there’s a hesitancy in it that wasn’t there before. “That sounds... well, it sounds like it was just a very vivid dream. You’ve been through so much trauma. It’s natural for your mind to try and make sense of it all.”

I shake my head vehemently, frustration bubbling up inside me. “No, Erica, you don’t understand. It felt real. More real than anything I’ve ever experienced. The being, it... it told me things.”

Erica’s eyebrows raise slightly, and a mixture of curiosity and skepticism forms in her voice as she asks, “What kind of things?”

I take a deep breath, trying to organize my thoughts. The memory of the dream, if it was a dream, is already starting to fade around the edges, like trying to hold onto water in cupped hands. “It told me... it told me it was responsible for the switch. For bringing me to this world.”

To my surprise, Erica nods slowly, as if this information isn’t as shocking to her as I expected it to be. “And why did it do that?” she asks, her voice carefully neutral.

I scratch my head, feeling a little confused. The details are slipping away faster now, like sand through an hourglass. “I think... I think it said it was bored,” I mumble, the words sounding ridiculous even to my own ears. “And that it wanted the other Jason to be happy or something like that.”

Erica’s face softens even further, her eyes now brimming with a mixture of love and concern that makes my heart ache. She doesn’t believe me, I realize with a sinking feeling. She thinks I’m losing it.

Without a word, Erica pulls me into a tight embrace. Her arms wrap around me, strong and secure, and I can feel her heart beating steadily against my chest.

“Jason,” she says softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Did it... did it say anything important? Anything we should be concerned about?”

I open my mouth to speak, then pause, frowning slightly as I try to sift through the jumble of memories and impressions. The more I try to focus on specific details, the more they seem to slip away, like trying to grasp at smoke.

After a long moment, I shake my head, a rueful smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. “I don’t think so,” I admit, feeling a strange mixture of relief and disappointment. “It was all so overwhelming, so... weird. But I can’t remember anything that seems particularly urgent or important.”

Erica studies my face for a moment longer, her blue eyes searching mine as if trying to peer into the depths of my soul. Then, with a small sigh, she leans forward and presses a gentle kiss on my forehead.

“Then let’s worry about it later, love,” she murmurs against my skin, her breath warm and comforting. “You’ve been through so much. Right now, what’s important is getting you home and taking care of you.”

As she pulls back, I can see the concern etched deeply in her features. Her brow is furrowed slightly, and there’s a tightness around her eyes that speaks volumes about her worry.

“I’m here for you,” Erica says, her voice strong and steady despite the uncertainty I can sense beneath the surface. “Whatever you need, whatever you’re going through, we’ll face it together. Okay?”

“Yeah.”