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tears of self-pity. At least not all of them. They were tears for m y husband, Wade, and for my son, Mason. Mason was only one year old. One year and one month. He wouldn’t even remember me if I never came back. Wade would have to teach him about me from photographs and stories. It made me sad to think that I might not be there for all of his firsts. His first day of school, losing his first tooth, his first girlfriend, it all made me sad.
    And Wade. How long would he grieve for me? How long would he wait before he went on and found someone else? Would he pick someone like me? Would she love Mason as much as I did? Would she love and take care of Wade as much as I did?
    I cried myself to sleep that night, and it was to be the first of many nights like it.

Chapter 8
     
    When I woke the next morning, I was startled by Ron’s presence. He stood at the side of the bed, hands in the pockets of his khaki slacks, staring at me with a smile on his face. It was creepy.
    “Good morning,” he said. “I trust that you slept well.”
    I tried to rub the sleep from my eyes, but of course I couldn’t. My hands were handcuffed, and as if that wasn’t bad enough, my arms were asleep.
    “Here, let me help you.” He placed a knee on the bed and leaned over. He removed the handcuff s from my wrists and brought my arms down. The pain was sharp and sudden and made me gasp. My shoulders were stiff and sore from being in that position all night. “Do you need a moment?” he asked.
    With my arms at my sides, I nodded. Moments later, as the blood began to circulate through my arms and hands, the tingling started. It was painful, feeling as if millions of needles were being poked into my skin over and over.
    I tried not to show that it hurt, but I winced and gasped more than once, giving me away.
    “I’m sorry about that. I would like very much if I didn’t have to do that, but I’m afraid I can’t trust you. Maybe tonight we can figure out another way that will cause you less pain.”
    I lay there waiting on the tingling to subside and hating the thought of spending another night, another day, even another second in this house with him. But I saw no way out.
    “Okay, let’s go,” he said, holding my wrist. “Let’s get up and shower and get ready for the day.”
    Slowly, I slid myself to the edge of the bed and stood. I brought my aching arm up and rubbed my eyes as I followed Ron down the hall to the bathroom. He turned on the light and stepped aside, letting me enter.
    “I’ll leave you alone, but I’m right outside this door. You should have everything you need. If not, let me know.” He smiled.
    I went into the bathroom and shut the door. Instinctively, I reached for the lock, but there wasn’t one. At least there was a door between us, even if I couldn’t lock it. Looking around, I saw my clothes, folded neatly and stacked on the counter beside the sink. My bra was on top. I picked it up and brought it to my nose. Inhaling deeply, I smelled a laundry detergent that I didn’t use. He’d washed my clothes.
    Beside the cloth es were many personal hygiene items. A towel, a washcloth, a toothbrush, a tube of toothpaste, and a comb.
    After peeing, I slipped out of my panties and carried the towel and washcloth to the bathtub. There was no towel bar, so I draped the towel over the shower curtain rod. I stepped into the tub and pulled close the curtain. I looked to the shelf in the corner and saw a new bar of soap and a bottle of shampoo. He’d thought of everything.
    I washed thoroughly, making sure to wash twice wh ere he’d touched and kissed me.
    After the shower, I stood in front of the sink and put on my bra, then my t-shirt. I had been debating whether I wanted to wear my panties again, but when I saw a fresh pair of panties lying on my jeans, I knew I didn’t have to. I pulled them on, and then my jeans. Once dressed, I brushed my teeth and combed my hair.
    When I opened the door, Ron was standing there, just as