One Last Step by Sarah Sutton (top rated ebook readers TXT) 📕

that triggered her—that much she knew—and she wondered if maybe her trauma did lay too deep. Maybe she was too damaged.

Tara shook off her thoughts as her phone beeped and she reached for it hurriedly, realizing that she had barely checked her phone all day and that it was probably John. When she looked at it, she saw a couple of texts and a missed call and she immediately called him.

“Hey,” he said, after picking up on the second ring. Tara could already hear the disappointment in his voice.

“I’m so sorry,” she started. “I’ve been so busy today, I didn’t even see your texts.”

“Yeah, I figured.”

A brief moment of silence lingered between them, until Tara tried to ease the tension. “Did your parents still come for dinner?” she finally asked.

“Yes, they did. I really wish you were here though…” he said as his voice trailed off.

Tara felt a frustration boil at John’s words. How dare he try and make me feel guilty, she thought. This had been something they spoke about numerous times—that for certain cases she would have to pick up and leave—and he gave her his full support. But now it seemed as if those conversations never existed.

“John…you know this is a big opportunity for me, right? We’ve talked about this. We…”

“I know,” he sighed, the tension easing slightly in his voice. He took a deep breath, as he began to grasp how unfair he was being. “It was just a bit shocking to get a text that you were suddenly flying to another state.” He laughed slightly at his words and Tara felt the tension ease between them. “I’ll get used to it,” he added.

Tara smiled as the conversation continued and she asked him about his parents’ visit. After all, it was their first time seeing the place after they helped them moved in.

“My mom said it looked great,” he said. “She loved how you decorated.”

Tara smiled. It was something she took much pride in—decorating her home. In some way, it made it feel more hers, more permanent.

“By the way, how was your day?” he asked.

Tara’s thoughts suddenly returned to the events of the day and her smile vanished. She didn’t want to talk about it.

There was a tinge of excited anticipation in John’s voice and she wanted to keep him there, away from the concern he would feel. The last thing she needed was for him to worry about her.

“It was good…a bit stressful…but nothing I can’t handle,” she replied.

He laughed at her vagueness. “And? Tell me more.”

A sudden heat rose to Tara’s chest. “I’m not really supposed to talk about it,” she started. “Plus it’s just been such a long day. I really don’t want to get into it right now.”

He was silent for a moment—he knew her too well—but then he responded. “You haven’t been having nightmares again, have you?”

“John, stop,” Tara snapped. It was a knee-jerk reaction, and she instantly regretted it, knowing it would only fuel his worry. “I’m fine, really, I’m just tired,” she added.

Again, he paused, considering if he should push further, but then decided against it.

“I should probably let you get to bed, then,” he finally said.

Moments later, after saying their goodbyes, Tara placed the phone down and a wave of loneliness washed through her. She was all alone now, and only she herself truly knew what she went through earlier. She raised the volume on the TV—an attempt to subside the feeling with noise. It helped slightly and she watched for a little while until her stomach growled, reminding her that she’d barely eaten anything all day.

She grabbed her phone and ordered room service. By the time it arrived, she could barely keep her eyes open. The exhaustion finally hit her. She scarfed down her food, got ready for bed, and then lay back down.

Each time she closed her eyes, the cabin came into view and all she could hear was the woman’s screams in her mind. But when she couldn’t bear it anymore, she picked up the remote, raised the volume even higher, and closed her eyes again. It was a trick she learned when she was younger, when the thoughts continued to haunt her. She focused on the sound, on the people talking on TV, until she finally drifted off into sleep.

***

She stood in front of the cabin, the woman’s screams hitting her like shards of glass—each one sending a stabbing pain through her body. She tried to inch forward—she wanted to help her—but with each step, the screams grew louder, sending her body into agonizing pain. She closed her eyes hard, focusing on the inside of her eyelids until the screams faded into a whisper and nothing could be heard at all.

But then, suddenly, the screams began again. They started quietly, building in volume upon each one and as they became clearer, Tara realized the screams were different. They didn’t sound like a stranger’s screams at all—they sounded like her mother’s.

She opened her eyes and all she could see was darkness, except for a light shining from beneath a door in front of her. She was in a closet. She could smell the soft leather of her mother’s jacket that she wore everywhere she went, and as Tara looked down at her feet, she was met with the cold, bare feet of her younger self—the feet of a little girl.

Her mother’s screaming got louder and Tara reached for the doorknob. She held it in her grasp for a moment as it vibrated in her shaking hand, but she was too afraid to turn it. Suddenly, her body jumped at the sound of a door flung open in the distance. She heard one more agonizing scream, and then it faded into nothing, until it was replaced by a whimpering that Tara recognized as her father’s.

She hadn’t even known that her father was home and the sound of his cries frightened her, for she had never heard her father cry. Maybe he was looking