The Masked Murderer

Recovery

It was late afternoon, and I hadn't been back home since Charles left for his night shift. Feeling a bit unsettled, I decided to head over to my parent's place and stay there for the night. It was my safe haven.

Sitting on their cozy old couch, I wrapped myself in a warm blanket and sipped on a mug of warm chamomile tea. I put on "The Notebook," my go-to comfort movie. 

A wave of nostalgia washed over me, transporting me back to my teenage years. My hair was casually pulled back into a loose ponytail, just like it had always been when I was a cheerleader at Galveston High.

And I dared to leave the house without any concealer or foundation – something I would have never considered before. But life had taught me to see things differently. My perspective had shifted entirely. I had learned to look beyond the superficial. Since leaving the hospital, I hadn't bothered to fix myself up, plus I was still in recovery mode.

I quit my waitressing job at Jill's Cafe due to the injuries I sustained and the prolonged amount of time that it would take for them to heal. I wasn't ready to dedicate myself to part-time or full-time work just yet, not until I completely healed- mentally and physically, from the trauma. I knew I wasn't there yet.

The flashbacks weren't as persistent, but I would still get them every now and then. Overall, I was beginning to feel like a full recovery was on the horizon, and that made me quite happy.

Charles and I moved in together. Living with him gave me a sense of security, something I severely lacked while living alone. When he wasn't at home, I'd stay the night at my parents' house. It was another safe place I could retreat if need be.

"Thanks for letting me stay here until Charles gets home from work," I said to Mom.

"Mija, Olivia, you are welcome here anytime, you know that,"

"I know. I want you to know I appreciate it," I replied while taking quick sips of my tea.

Mom leaned over the couch to hug me. Her short, curly brunette hair rubbed up against mine.

"Mija, I love you." Mom planted a kiss on the top of my forehead.

I felt like the luckiest woman alive to have such a loving family and a fiancé who was so incredibly in love with me. I appreciated it now more than I ever could've before.

I was so engrossed in the Notebook that I didn't realize I had five missed calls from Charles, not to mention my phone was on silent. I called him back right away.

"Hey honey, sorry I missed your call," I said over the phone while twirling a few loose strands of my hair between my fingers.

"Babe, I gotta work until three in the morning. I'm sorry. I'll see you then," Charles said with disappointment in his voice.

"No worries, honey. I'll be home when you get there. I love you, bye."

"I love you too, bye." Charles blew me a kiss through the phone. I puckered up and blew him one back, then we ended the call.

Six months had passed since that traumatic event, and I was learning how to be independent all over again. I thought tonight would be the perfect night to spend by myself since I technically wouldn't be spending all night alone because Charles would be coming home at three.

It was eight o'clock, and I was growing tired. My eyes could hardly stay open. I felt them burning as they began to water, an indication that I needed to get some sleep.

"Mom, I'm going home now," I announced as I began walking towards the kitchen where Mom was knitting.

"Okay, are you going to be alright? Do you need Dad to drive you home?" She asked while setting her knitting utensils on the big oak wood dinner table.