Run Away With Me : A fast-paced psychological thriller by Daniel Hurst (free e novels TXT) 📗

‘I don’t know what to take,’ I reply, gesturing to my wardrobe that has enough clothes in it to overwhelm even the most professional of packers.

‘It doesn’t matter. Just grab a couple of things. Something warm. We can figure out the rest as we go.’

I nod and step towards my wardrobe, going in search of the warm clothes I have just been advised to take. I know there are a couple of pairs of cosy jogging bottoms and some thick sweaters on the third shelf in here, so I guess they will have to do. I locate the items and pull them out, ignoring the sea of summer dresses that hang beside them because it’s not the time of year for those clothes and I’m hardly likely to need a dress for a while considering where we’re going.

I place the selected items of clothing on the bed before going in search of something to carry them in. I decide the suitcase is too much, so go for my own backpack instead. I’ve had this backpack since my early twenties when I travelled around India and Asia on an adventure that would see me end up as far as Australia and New Zealand by the time I was done. Back then, I had put my clothes into this backpack with a sense of excitement and a knowledge that my best days were ahead of me, but now I’m packing it with a different feeling entirely.

It feels like one of the last acts I’ll make as a free woman.

The sharp kick in my stomach is powerful enough to stop me from packing for a moment, and I draw in a sharp intake of breath to ease the pain. That was a big one and not as enjoyable as the smaller kicks that remind me of the life growing inside me. That kick was more of a reminder of the other side of being pregnant. It’s not all good. Sometimes, it’s just plain painful.

Just like marriage, I suppose.

‘Are you okay?’ Adam asks me again when he notices that I’ve stopped packing.

‘Yeah. Just another kick. It was a big one.’

‘He’s eager to get out,’ Adam says with a flicker of a smile.

That could be it, I think. Or maybe he’s warning me. Maybe the kick was to tell me to stop being so stupid and stop packing before it’s too late, and that thought of Samuel speaking to me from the womb gives me pause for thought again.

‘I don’t think I can come with you,’ I tell Adam just as he is gathering up some of the items we had bought for the arrival of our son. I see the milk bottle, the baby monitor and the little teddy bear we plan to give our boy when we finally meet him. Those items were going to be just a few of the many things that were going to help us raise him during his early days.

Now they might be the only things we have.

‘Laura, I know this is hard, but please. I need you. I need you both.’

Adam looks down at my bump, but I wish he hadn’t because that is just making things worse.

I quickly walk out of the bedroom, away from the pile of clothes on the bed and my husband who is the one responsible for throwing my perfect life into turmoil tonight. Walking across the landing, I enter the room at the end and turn on the light, before looking around at the small but lovingly decorated surroundings.

The white crib sits against the back wall beneath the hanging star lights and beside the rocking horse that was to be purely for decoration until Samuel was eventually big enough to sit on it himself. The walls are papered green, and several colourful dinosaurs are dotted around on it because according to all the books I’ve read, you can’t go wrong with dinosaurs for a baby boy’s bedroom. I’m not sure what it is about the enormous and mostly murderous creatures that parents find to be so perfect for their child to look at during their formative years, but dinosaurs always seem to be popular with babies. A lot of love and care has gone into the decorating of this room, but now I’m faced with the possibility that Samuel will never get to see it at all.

‘Laura?’

Adam’s voice behind me is a grim reminder that I don’t have time to be standing in our child’s future bedroom and imagining what it would have looked like when he was here to sleep in it. But I don’t turn around because I don’t want to start crying again.

I feel the hand on my shoulder, and my husband’s grip is firm but comforting. I place my hand on top of his as if to draw out some of the strength that he possesses and get it into my body. But it’s not working. I’m feeling weaker by the second.

‘This is silly,’ Adam says, removing his hand from my shoulder and walking away.

‘Where are you going?’ I ask him, concerned by his sudden change of tone.

‘To do what I should have done an hour ago. I’m calling the police.’

I turn and see Adam taking out his mobile phone.

He’s still walking away.

I feel like he’s walking out of my life forever.

‘Wait!’ I call out and rush towards him, snatching the phone from his hand before he can complete the call.

‘What are you doing?’ Adam asks, looking surprised at my sudden urgency.

‘I’m saving our family,’ I reply, and I check the phone to make sure we aren’t connected to the emergency services right now. Fortunately, there are only two number nines on the screen and not three.

‘It’s obvious you don’t want to leave,’ Adam says. ‘And I understand. I’m asking too much of you.’

‘No, you’re not,’ I tell my husband. ‘You could never ask too much of me. We’re married, which means we’re