Chapter 190: Homebound: Hannah
It was a nice little change to have Marcus and Ed around, and seeing Lori try to get Marcus to flirt with her was definitely a humorous distraction.
As lovely as they and their company were, they were also a reminder that things were abnormal. No one had as much security in their house, let alone a couple of FBI agents.
I longed for things to go back to normal. So that we could have peace of mind that we wouldn’t be in danger, and so my mind could stop lobbying between the worries and woes, and the desire to have a stiff upper lip and keep on trucking along.
To do my best to keep my mindset focused on the positive, I poured hours and hours a day into the charity. I worked in my crafting room at the desk, going over every little detail I could. I conducted over a dozen interviews to find a qualified assistant that I liked and thought we could work together. Everything was conducted via the phone, whether it was phone call or email.
Rosa seemed to be the best fit. She had a great sense of humor, five years of office experience, and a decade of volunteer work. She was perfectly fine with it being a temporary job with the potential to be full time as well.
Payroll was easy to set up, considering that Roman already had a staff of his own and it was easy to talk to them and find someone to help me. A janitorial staff was found with the help of the hiring agency that Rachel recommended. I set up appointments for the suppliers to make their deliveries later in the week, though I wasn’t sure who I would get to be at the building to accept them and help organize them.
Lori had assisted in picking out the furniture to go into the apartments and had the great idea of having a stock room of children furniture, in case any of the women who stayed there had young children that needed to stay with them. The remodeling crew had already finished laying the floors and painting.
Before long, I was actually managing to run out of things to do. Well, at least, things that I could do remotely.
That realization caused an anxiety to ignite into life in my chest. Was I just supposed to go back to wandering aimlessly through the house? Slouching on the couches, doodling, and doing anything at all possible to fill my day?
The thought more than frustrated me. It sort of pissed me off. How was I supposed to do any of that? I needed to be productive and proactive. Doing things "just to fill the day" was not at all my forte anymore.
By the time Wednesday morning was coming around, I was grateful for another session with Tara. I needed to unload all that was on my mind onto someone.
While I knew that Roman and my sister were always around to listen to me, there was something uniquely freeing about telling a third party. I didn’t want to weigh them down with my worries and anxieties, even if they would swear up and down it was no trouble at all. As much as I would love for that to be the case, we all knew it not to be true.
Tara and I settled into the room we always had our sessions in. I took to pacing by the window, my body not allowing me to settle in and face her like I usually did.
"So, clearly there is something weighing on you," Tara stated, breaking through the silence.
How long had I been pacing? I couldn’t remember, and that annoyed me. "I suppose you could say that," I muttered. "Well, let’s talk about it."
I faced the window and scanned the backyard before shaking my head and turning around to face her.
"I don’t know how I put up with so much isolation before. I mean, like, I did nothing. I laid about, I talked to the security guards, and I watched movies. That was really it. Even though I only had my freedom back for a short time, I have really embraced it. I have paved paths to my future, you know? This foundation means the world to me and I want to get it off the ground, but my hands are tied. As much as I want to say that the stalker, or whoever it is, isn’t going to get in my way, I can’t say that for certain. Clearly, they already are, since all of my operations have had to be from this house."
I took a breath.
"I have managed to get quite a lot done and I’m glad for it, but there’s only so much I can do while not being there. I can’t accept deliveries, I can’t oversee remodeling, I can’t help place furniture or anything. I’m just here. I’m stuck. I’m tired of being stuck because of the likes of the Auction House and what they have put me through. I tell myself and everyone around me that I’m no longer going to let them have power over my life, but they still have it."
I was honestly shocked that I wasn’t crying. I wasn’t crying at all. In fact, my teeth were clenched. I was clenched so tight that my teeth were actually hurting.
Didn’t they always say that anger was a secondary emotion? Why was it then, that it felt so favorable to crying? Was the anger so that I didn’t feel the sadness that my mind was maybe trying to protect me from? Sadness didn’t feel like the right word. The only emotions that felt like adequate descriptions were anger and anxiety.
"Why are your hands tied?" Tara asked me, breaking through the whirlwind of thoughts that my brain was already caught up in, even moments after shutting up from my rant.
"What?" I asked, blinking at her.
"Why are your hands tied? Why are you stuck here?" she asked.
The question felt so silly to me that I was almost offended and annoyed that she would ask that. When she didn’t answer her own seemingly rhetorical question, I obliged. "Because it’s dangerous out there? I don’t know who is watching me and how close they could possibly be at a given time. It’s better to be careful and safe than regret any missteps."
"So... Have Roman and Lori stayed tethered to this house?" Tara asked.
"Well, no. Roman’s gone out for meetings here and there. Occasionally working half days in the office. Lori is always on the move," I answered, still not following what she was saying.
"Have they been injured?" she asked. "Have they been threatened or maimed?"
"No," I muttered. "They travel with the bodyguards."
"And why can’t you have the same freedoms they do?" Tara asked.
"Because.... I’m the one the people are after? I’m more at risk."
"What makes you more at risk with guards, guards which you trust, at the charity, than here?" she inquired.
"Travel, being downtown surrounded by people. You never know where someone could be hiding. What if they are laying in wait for me?"
"Okay, if they are, what would happen?" Tara questioned.
I blinked and my pulse quickened. "Then, they would grab me and maybe put me back into trafficking? Or kill me? Or worse?"
"So, in this scenario, where are the guards?" Tara asked.
"I mean, they would be around," I mumbled.
"Would they not protect you? Isn’t that their job?"
"Of course they would try. It doesn’t mean that they would be successful," I grumbled.
"So, you think that this one rogue agent would be able to take down... How many is it that you are meant to travel with? Three, four guards?" Tara followed up.
"I... Well..." I stammered.
"Do you not trust them to do their jobs?"
"Of course I do. They are great guys," I muttered.
"If you trust them to do their jobs, then you wouldn’t think this rogue man could take them down so easily," Tara explained.
As I stared at her, she gave me an easy smile. "That is, unless it’s possible all of this stress and constant state of danger has shifted from anxious thinking, to phobic thinking. Phobic being excessive and irrational. While I by no means think it’s irrational for you to be worried, I think forcing yourself to stay in this house and do nothing at all is a bit phobic. If everyone else can go about their lives, at least in a minimal way, and you are taking all precautions to stay safe, then there is no reason to stay so permanently in lockdown. Right?"
"I suppose that makes sense," I mumbled, crossing my arms and rubbing my own arm for comfort.
Tara reached to me and placed a hand over mine. "How about this. When are your deliveries scheduled for the charity?"
"Friday..."
"Then, Friday morning, let’s go together. We can meet there and we will stay by one another’s side all day. We can get what we need to done, and then get home safely. How does that sound as a first step?" she suggested.
"Perfectly reasonable, much to my dismay," I stated with a shy smile.
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