December 8, 2017

8am

New York County Courthouse

60 Centre Street

New York, NY 10007

I haven't slept well since my chance encounter with Justin two weeks ago.  Whenever I fall asleep, I dream of him, of his hollow, sad eyes, and his terrified expression.  I try to help him, but he fades away, and I wake up in a cold sweat.

Needless to say I've plunged head first into my casework, barely fitting in enough leisure time to finish my morning coffee.  It keeps me focused...the work.  Energized, not thinking about things I shouldn't be.  That's what's important.  I can't focus on Justin, because he doesn't want me to.  I’ve won my last three cases, which I guess is the best thing to come out of this.

But in reality, being extremely successful at my job doesn’t fulfill me like it should.

It’s Friday, one of the busiest court house days in the legal world.  It’s a day to get everything important handled before the weekend, so your client has a chance of spending it outside of a jail cell.  I have five hearings this morning alone, plus two more jury selections after lunch.  It’s definitely a great evening to settle in for an extended happy hour.  

It just sucks going alone, or with my colleagues at the office, who are all well into their fifties.  It’s just not the same.
r32;But Justin isn’t the same, and neither am I.

I’m ready for a stiff drink by the end of the fifth hearing, having one too many heated objections with the DA.  Since I never drink on the job, I decide to dig into my emergency pack of cigarettes  instead .  After I left Harrison and Fink, I was never quite able to shake the habit, even though I limit myself to no more than four or five a week, and I have to be especially tense.  

I push myself through the backdoor of the courthouse, breathing out a sigh of relief as the cold winter air whips through my hair.  It feels refreshing, and the fact that I don’t see anyone else out here is a bonus.  I like being alone with my thoughts after such a trying morning.  Smiling, I pull out my pack along with my lighter, and light up, taking my first blissful dosage of nicotine, my workday worries escaping as I exhale the smoke.

That's when I hear it.

It’s the smallest of whimpers, almost childlike, but not quite.  I turn to my left, where I think the sound is coming from, taking another long drag of my cigarette.

My stomach lurches.

Justin is huddled against a shredded document dumpster, the neck of his overcoat pulled up to the sides of his face so it will block the cold as he smokes his cigarette.  Each time he takes a drag, I can see his hand trembling, and it's not from the cold.  When his coat sleeve slips down, I see a deep red indentation all the way around his wrist, and I’m too smart not to realize that it’s a ligature mark .

I feel sick.  I can't take this.  I can't just stand by, knowing something horrible is happening to him.  So I take my opportunity and walk closer to him.  "Hey."

He snaps to attention at the sound of my voice, but doesn't say a word when his eyes land on me.  Once again, he looks absolutely terrified.

"Can I talk to you for a second?"

"You have to get out of here," he whispers, looking over his shoulder and all around.  "I mean it.  I can't be seen talking to you."

"What the hell is going on!" I yell it at him.

He drops the cigarette and squashes it with his foot, abruptly jumping to his feet and bolting to the door.  I'm too quick for him though, and race forward to block his path before he can run back inside the courthouse.

"Move."  His eyes narrow darkly, but I can see his hand trembling on the door handle.  

"I'm not moving until you tell me what's going on."

"Move."  He grits it more harshly this time, his eyes glistening with tears that I'm sure he doesn't want me to see.

I shove him back. "I'm not moving."

"Don't!"  He covers his face protectively when my hands connect with his body.  "Please!"

I stand back.  He's cowering before me, as if I was about to hit him.  "I'm...Justin...I'm not going to hurt you, okay?  Calm down...would you look at me please?"

It takes him a long while, but finally, he begins to lower his arms away from his face, still taking an opportunity to glance over his shoulder.  "Maggie," he begins to sob again.  "Please just go...please."
 
I step towards him, somehow managing to keep my emotions in check for his sake.  Inside my heart is crumbling.  I can tell that he's dealing with something that's causing him serious emotional trauma, so I take my time before I place my hand on his sleeve.  He allows my touch, and so, I slowly move the fabric up his arm to reveal what I knew was already there.  "What happened to your wrists?"

He yanks his arm away.  "Nothing."

I narrow my eyes.  "Justin."

"He's making his rounds.  He'll see us talking," he says in a rushed, crazy sounding whisper.

"You don't know what will happen...Mags..."

I take his hands in mine.  "Is someone threatening you?"

He shakes his head very roughly, as he wipes harshly at his face.  

"Did someone..." I pause and take a long breath.  "Did someone tie your hands?  That's what it looks like."

"I didn't want her to..."  He looks at the ground, and his bottom lip trembles uncontrollably.  It's terrifying.  I've never seen Justin lose his composure so openly.  Even when Fay passed, he was able to bottle it up.

Something has been happening to him every day, for a really long time, I'm positive of that, and it's driving him out of his skull.

"Justin?"

"I didn't want to be locked in my room again.  I fought back, so they restrained me to get me in there.  It's...it's fine. They cut the zip ties after I'm inside...it's just the plastic you know, it's rough on my skin."

“They? Don’t you mean Hannah?”

“She has…people, men that work for her.  You met one of them that day at the restaurant…”  He trails off,  seems to get extremely uneasy, and can’t say anything else.

Lucky for me, I seem to get it.  Too well.  Hannah hired that man, or I guess…men, to keep an eye on Justin.  Using whatever means necessary to force him into obeying her.

“They lock you in your room?"

He runs his hands through his untamed curls.  "I'm fine."

"What the fuck? Are you saying Hannah is having them do this to you?"

He says nothing, just nods slightly.  

"That's not fucking okay Justin!  Have you forgotten the law? Are you that brain dead? Kidnapping is a federal offense.  People get life for that, you know?"

"It's not kidnapping.”

I roll my eyes harshly.  “Fine.  False imprisonment then.”

“In a week she'll be my wife.  How can I prove anything? No one would believe someone like her could do the things she's done to me.  She's got complete control over my daughter, and my assets, too," his voice cracks and he keeps his gaze on the ground.  "I have no choices.  I'm being watched all the time.  She knows when I don't play by her rules and...Mags...if she finds out we spoke...I just don't know what she's going to do."

"You can walk away.  You can do it right now."

"Not without Mack."  He looks me right in my eyes now.  "I won't leave her, Maggie."

"We can figure it out."  I step up to him and take his hands again.  This time, they're trembling a little bit less.  "I promise."

"It's not that simple."

"You can't just give up.  Justin, you've always been the the first one to tell me that we could get through anything."

"No..."  I pulls his hands out of mine again, and bends down.  "I really mean, it's not that simple."  

He rolls up his left pant leg to reveal a flashing black box that has been strapped to his calf.  After taking a closer look, I can tell it's a house arrest device meant to track where he is at all times.  Removing those devices without the proper tools sets off an alarm that reaches the appropriate people within seconds, and with hand links, that could mean the appropriate people are stationed across the street.

"I've been trying everything to get it off without her finding out, but it's locked tight against my skin.  It won't move.  Hannah is the only one with a disabling tool."

"There must be other keys out there.  This isn't the only device of it's kind."  I peer closer for a brand name, and force myself to memorize it.  "I bet you could order one online, and get it off."

"I get a hundred dollars a week in cash.  She took my credit cards and forced me to close my bank accounts.  There’s no way I can order anything online without her knowing about it.”

"I'll order it."

It dawns on him then, that he can get the help he needs through me, but he seems terrified of the prospect.  He's dealing with a lot of emotional trauma.  The kind that can mess you up for years, even with the best types of shrinks.  I have no idea what else she's done, or what those men that work for her have done to him behind closed doors.  

"Do you think you could?"

"I know I can."

He looks up at me suddenly.  "What about...other things?"

"Other things?"

"Like fake passports? Birth certificates? Name changes? Do you think you can get those things done for me and Mack?"  He says it desperately, his eyes searching mine for the promise of an escape.  Of a life without Hannah and her torment.  I can feel his pain.  It's exactly how I felt with Tad.  Terrified, uncertain, sick to my stomach.  "Do you think you can help us get out of the country?"

I know that's what it will take to get him to safety.  Hannah has too much at her disposal, and hiding out state to state would get him discovered in days.  No, he needs to cross the border.  Canada? No, too risky, too thorough.  Flying obviously won’t work, Hannah would be sure his name and the babies name ended up on the no fly list.

Mexico.

It takes thirty six hours to drive to the Mexican border...Monterrey.  My sister did it with a bunch of her friends for spring break back in high school.  Back then you didn't need a passport, but the security is so lax at the border, even the poorest excuse for a passport can get you across the border these days.

"Mexico."

He stares at me for several moments.  

"We drive to Mexico," I whisper.  "With stops, it will take four or five days to get to Monterrey.  Once we cross the border, we can figure out where to go from there."

"We?"

A hint of a smile ticks at the corner of my mouth.  "I'm not letting you do this alone, Timberlake."

"You'd come with me?"

He says it like it's the craziest thing he's ever heard.

And I guess, it may be crazy.

But I know how crazy I am about him, despite how emotionally unstable he is at this point.  

"I'm not losing you again.  I…I can’t fall out of love with you, Justin.  I just can’t do it, and it makes me want to hate you.”  

He steps right up to me now, eyes still searching mine for an explanation to all of this, and I have no idea if he’s found one, but when his lips brush against my neck ever so slightly, I know how many feelings he still has for me.

“I never wanted you to hate me.”  His whisper tickles my skin.

I'd give anything to hold him close right now, press my lips against his, but I'm sure it isn't the best idea, given the fact that Hannah's goons could be lurking anywhere.  With a sigh, I back off slight, but don’t break my gaze from his.

“I don’t hate you.  I’ve never hated you,” I tell him quietly.  “I’m…I’m in love with you.”

For the first time he smiles, just a little bit, clearing some of the fatigue from his eyes.  “I love you too.”

“Right.” I nod seriously, and put all the gooey shit out of my mind for now, because we need a plan, and I’m sure we don’t have much more time to talk before Hannah’s goons start getting suspicious.  “So, here’s what I’m thinking…”
*****************
December 8, 2017

6:30 pm

Hannah and Justin's Penthouse

1043 5th Ave New York, NY 10011

I’ve always stood by the law.  It’s kept me with a level head, and a good conscience my entire life.

By tomorrow afternoon though, if everything goes according to plan, I’ll have committed a felony, and be on the run.  

But I’ll have my freedom, my daughter in my arms, and the love of my life at my side.

I’ll put everything on the line to have that, and I won’t look back.  I won’t regret it, even if my life will never be the same again.

Of course I’ve been thinking about Mack on and off all day.  What this will do to her.  How, if we make it to Mexico, she’ll grow up never knowing her real mother, because that’s the way things will have to be.  She’ll know Maggie as her mother, and while that thrills me, I don’t know if it’s the fairest thing to do to my child.

But I don't have any choices here.

“The office?”

I sit up straighter in my chair as one of Hannah’s servers fills my goblet with water.  “Everyone has been asking to see her, that’s all.  They don’t know about…you know.”

Maggie says she’s taking care of everything.  The documents, the cash, the transportation, and the best route to get us over the border in a timely manner.  She’s even talking to Shelbie over dinner tonight, to try to get her in on this.  My secretary has always respected me, and I’m sure if she knows what’s going on at home, she’ll want to help, so I’m not worried.

I only have one job, and unfortunately, it’s probably the most important, and most difficult.

“You have to convince Hannah to let you have the baby at the office tomorrow.  Tell her the staff wants to meet her, tell her anything, but you have to get her to say yes. If not, I just…I have no idea how we’ll be able to take her with us.”

She said it so desperately, her eyes filled with worry, because she knew there was a very good chance that Hannah wouldn’t give in.  That she would say no, and I’d have to choose between my freedom and my daughter.  

I know which one I would have to choose.  I would never forgive myself if I left my kid to be raised by Hannah alone.

I promised Maggie with everything I had left inside of me that I would do whatever I could to get her to give in.  We would need just a few hours for our plan to work once I got the baby into my office.  Hannah was the biggest hurdle.

“I think your co workers can live without seeing your baby.”  Hannah rolls her eyes and digs into her salad.

“It’s just…that it’s odd.  I mean, you brought her to the studio, Hannah.  People are starting to think I don’t care that I just had a baby or something.”

“Oh. So now it matters what they think?”  She snaps harshly.  “The only person’s opinion you need to worry about is mine, Justin.  Do I really need to remind you?”

I sigh harshly and gaze down at my salad.  This isn’t going well.  “What do I need to do, Hannah?  I’m asking you for one day.”

She snickers with disgust.  “I don’t trust you alone with our daughter, Justin.  You must think I’m an idiot or something.”

“This is about our reputation.  What am I supposed to tell people? I’ve already used the baby is sick excuse, twice.  What’s next? Hannah is uncomfortable?  I’d like to appear normal to my peers, just like you.”

She drops her fork and it clatters against her china.  “Who’s asking?”

I swallow hard but keep my gazed fixed on hers.  “Barry.”

“Great,” she huffs.  “I guess your father can’t talk your way out of this.”

“I doubt it.”  I feel the sweat beading on my brow and under my arms.  Fitz stands on the far end of the dining room, by the door, but his mood doesn’t change, which means he hasn’t caught on to my mood yet.  “He’s like family, you know? He just wants to meet her, and…I know you have to be at the studio…”

“Just shut up.”

I do it, and stare blankly at her.

She taps her fork against the top of the table, chewing her bottom lip, debating the scenario.  She doesn’t want this, but at the same time, she doesn’t want anyone outside of this house to know what goes on.  

Please

“I guess I don’t have a choice then, do I?”  She sits back and crosses her arms, narrowing her eyes at me angrily.  “I swear to fucking God, Justin, if you’re plotting something…”  

“I’m not,” I say quietly.  “I’m just asking for a day with my daughter.”

“Half a day.  You’re leaving the office by two, the latest.”

Shit.

But there’s nothing I can say.  I force a smile, like it’s the best thing she’s ever told me before.  “Baby, thank you so much.  I really…I appreciate this more than you know.”

“You think I’m doing it for you?”  She slides out of her chair and stands over me, glaring with suspicion.  “That’s the last thing I’d do, Justin! I’m only agreeing to this so your business partners will shut up about the subject, and if you put one fucking finger out of line…I swear to god, I’ll kill you myself.”

I shudder.  I hate to let her see me so unglued, but I can’t help it.  I know she means it.  “A-all right Hannah.”

She shakes her head roughly, but plops back into her chair moments later, and begins to shove her salad into her mouth.  I focus back on my food as well, just picking, barely eating a thing, even when the main course is brought out…steak.  Just looking at it makes me want to hurl, but when Hannah begins to eye me suspiciously, I do my best to eat enough to make her forget about it.  

“She can only have soy.  She’s allergic to dairy.  I’ll pack some bottles, enough for the day.”  Hannah rambles it off after the dessert plates are being cleared.  

“She’s allergic to dairy?”

Deep down inside of me, the anger begins to boil, but I can’t let on to it.  It occurs to me that she hasn’t told me anything about my daughter, and that means I know next to nothing about her.  It’s not right.  It’s unethical.  

“Yes.”r32;

“Anything else I don’t know?”  

It was snide, and she knows it, because she glares at me spitefully.  “You really didn’t need to know, but since she’ll be alone with you, I need you to be prepared in case something happens.  The doctor thinks she may be asthmatic as well but he’s not entirely certain because she’s only had one mild attack.  In any case, there’s medication she takes daily with an eyedropper, and I’ll pack it for you. It’s important she doesn’t miss, because an attack can happen anytime.  Do you understand?”

“Of course.”

“Wonderful.”

Hannah lets me have time with my daughter tonight, despite her attitude at dinner, and I spend what time I’m allowed on the floor, playing with her as Hannah thumbs through a magazine and observes us every few seconds. Fitz, as always, stands just feet away, watching me like I’m some sort of criminal being granted visitation.  Even so, I do my best to tune that all out and focus on my baby.   She’s gotten so big in just a few months time, and every time I have a visit with her, she’s doing something new.  Tonight, she’s almost able to crawl. I feel like I’ve missed so much of her life, even though she’s not even a year old yet, and it upsets me…

But tomorrow will be a completely new start for the two of us.

“Say goodnight.”  Hannah orders me around nine thirty, and I give Mackayla a kiss and a hug before Fitz picks her up and whisks her back to the nursery.

Tonight, Hannah walks me to my room.  She has one of her goons zip tie my wrists behind me, for her supposed protection, and then walks behind me, one hand on my upper arm, as I walk down the various corridors that lead to my bedroom.  Once inside, she pushes the door closed, but she doesn’t untie me.

“Hannah?”

She walks right up to me, and shoves me down on the bed.  I struggle, but she places her foot right on top of my crotch and threatens to inflict obvious pain on me, so I just stop and stare.

“Why do you want the baby at the office?”

I stare at her calmly, despite the sweat dripping down my face and the circulation being cut off from my wrists.  “I told you why.”

“I don’t believe you.”  She leans down, her face inches from mine.  “I think you’re full of shit.”

“Hannah…”

“Shut up!”  

She strikes me across the face once, twice.  Hard.  My skin stings, and I know her blows are going to leave marks.  Despite this, nothing prepares me for what she does next.

The cool steel of the gun is pressed into the middle of my forehead before I know what’s happening, and I’m shaking with fear.  “H-Hannah,” I whimper.  “Please…I promise, I’m telling you the truth.”

“Are you sure?”

r32;The gun clicks.

r32;No, I’m not sure.  I’m fucking lying.  I’m trying to run, and take our baby with us.
I refuse to tell her.  I refuse to let her ruin my one chance at escape.

“Justin, I’m running out of patience.”

“I’m sure!” I scream it at her.  “Hannah! I’m not lying to you!”

It takes a few more terrifying seconds, but she finally responds.  “What if I told you that this gun wasn’t loaded?  Would you believe me?”

My eyes widen and my whole body goes numb.  I’m completely fucking terrified right now, and I don’t know exactly how to handle this.

Please don’t let me die here.  Not like this.

“I’d believe you,” I croak.  “I-I would.”

“Why?”  She presses the gun more harshly against my forehead.  “Why should you?”

“Because you’ve never lied to me before.”

A smile pulls at her lips.  “You surprise me sometimes, Justin.”

She pulls the trigger.

I wince and cry out.

Nothing happens.

She’s laughing as she pulls the thing away from my forehead, and I’m panting, crying, thanking God for sparing my life.

“Lucky.”  She pops the chamber out of the gun and spins it.  “One more and I’d be cleaning your brains off the walls.”

I see the bullet, and I start to lose it.  She cuts the zip ties moments later, and after that, I’m throwing up dinner in the toilet.

“Do you see why it’s important that I believe you aren’t lying to me, Justin?”  She giggles, while she rubs my back as I get sick.  

“You’re…. fucking twisted,” I manage.

“I’m doing you a favor.  Have a good night, Justin.”

She leaves me that way, dry heaving now, scared to death of what she’s capable of.

It almost makes me want to tell her forget about the baby in the morning, and ignore Maggie’s signal when she comes calling.

That’s what Hannah wants me to do.  She wants me to live this way, tortured, and terrified, every single day.

But I can’t give in.  I have to be strong.

Strong for my baby, even if I can’t be strong for myself.