Escaping Reality

obvious nosy
    inspection of the document I have yet to read. The idea that he knows
    more about me than me is unnerving.
    Slowly, I lift my gaze to find only a few inches separating us, and his
    eyes, those piercing blue eyes, see too much. He makes me feel too much. I
    don’t know him. I can’t trust him. Is there anyone I can really trust left in
    this world?
    “Thanks,” I say, taking the resume from him with more obvious snap
    than I intend. I tug his bag out from underneath my seat. He unzips the side
    pocket to remove his phone, and I am self-conscious of how high my skirt
    rides up my thigh as he helps me shove the bag back where it had been. But
    he isn’t looking at my legs. I can feel the burn of him watching me in my
    cheeks. I know he knows how uncomfortable I am. I know he knows I’m not
    okay right now. I feel trapped. Trapped with this man, and I am trapped in a
    life that isn’t mine.
    Tugging at my skirt, I sit up and he does the same, shifting his
    attention to his phone as he does. Taking advantage of his distraction, I
    twist toward the window, offering him my back.
    Maybe he will think I’m allowing him privacy for his call. Maybe he
    will think I’m rude. I don’t care. I open the folder and quickly find the
    résumé he’s already seen and start reading. Amy Bensen is, or was, a
    private secretary to some executive, whose name I quickly press to
    memory.
    She’s had that job since graduating college three years before, but
    he’s retired and she’s been laid off.
    I flip to a summary page behind the résumé that tells me my
    backstory, and read on, hearing Liam talking on his phone about some
    meeting. An announcement is made about electronic items and I read
    faster. Amy Bensen has scored a three-month position handling the
    personal affairs of a private businessman who is both a friend of her
    ex-boss and overseas for that time period. Her new boss will be providing
    an apartment near his personal home that is empty and will need to be
    monitored. There is a comment typed in bold and underlined. You are not
    to apply for work until I contact you and tell you that it’s safe. Do nothing
    to bring attention to yourself. I inhale a slow, heavy breath and can’t seem
    to let it out. Until I tell you it’s safe? What does that even mean? Who is
    after me? Do they, or he or she, or whoever, know I was in New York? Can
    they figure out where I went? And why, why, why have I let myself pretend
    this threat doesn’t exist until I’m forced into hiding again?
    The plane roars to life and I nearly jump out of my skin. Casting a
    glance over my shoulder, I confirm that Liam didn’t notice, and is
    concentrating on punching something into his phone. He might not be
    attentive to me right now but he already started asking me questions.
    He’ll ask more and I have to be ready. Thumbing through the file, I
    find a page with my new family history. My mother died in a car accident
    four years ago and my father was a drunk who left us when I was a kid. I
    have no siblings. A wave of nausea overcomes me and I shut the file, and
    still facing the window, I lie back against the seat, squeezing my eyes shut.
    I’d adored my mother. I’d worshiped my older brother. And my father
    would never have left me by choice. I had a family that was more than a
    typed piece of paper in a file. Now I have nothing but a fake name and a
    fake life.

Chapter Three

    We level off at cruising altitude, the soft hum of the engines lulling
    me into deep thought, and I can feel my mind trying to go places I don’t
    want to go. Flashes of the tattoo on my handler’s wrist keep interrupting
    my plans to keep Liam’s questions at bay the rest of the flight.
    The tattoo shifts to flames and I am suddenly floating in a cloud of
    thick smoke, trying to escape, but I can’t see to get out of it. I can’t scream.
    I try to scream. They are screaming. Oh God. Oh God. I have to get to them.
    A sudden bright light pierces the fog and I jerk to a sitting position and grab
    my throat, gasping for air, feeling the rasp of smoke burn through my lungs.
    “Easy, sweetheart. You’re okay.”
    I barely register the voice. I can’t focus. My hands go to my face.
    “Where am I?”
    “Amy.”
    Strong hands touch me, turn me, and I blink a pair of piercing blue
    eyes into focus.
    Memories rush over me. “Liam?”
    “Yes. Liam. That must have been one hell of a nightmare.”
    Nightmare? I fell asleep? “No, I…” Images