Chapter 5: Scars, Secrets, and Doubt

The cameras caught every moment, the story spinning out in real time.

I was about to answer when the doctor’s surprised voice came from behind the curtain. "The patient has no signs of childbirth! Cervical status shows—she’s never given birth!"

The words echoed in the small room, bouncing off the tile. My heart stopped.

——

Detective Harris stared at me, like he was trying to see through my skin. "Savannah, about where you were taken and the traffickers—are you sure you remember nothing?"

He watched me closely, pen tapping against his notepad. I swallowed, my mouth dry.

The report said PTSD, selective amnesia. All I remembered was the silver minivan, no plates. Grace had set up the whole thing.

The therapist’s words echoed in my mind, the diagnosis both a shield and a prison. I clung to what little I remembered; the rest was lost in fog.

The trail went cold. The case stalled.

Files piled up, leads dried out, and the headlines moved on to the next scandal. I was left in limbo, no answers, no closure.

Online, people started to doubt. "She never gave birth, but claims to have a son? She’s nuts!"

"Savannah snapped after being betrayed—she’s making up stories for sympathy!"

The comments were brutal. I stopped reading after a while, the words burning holes in my resolve.

Some people called for a "Nationwide search for witnesses! Savannah can’t be alone in this! Find the truth!"

A few strangers still believed, their hope a tiny spark in the darkness.

I clicked away, not wanting to look anymore.

I shut the laptop, closed the curtains, and let the world spin without me.

But the police saw the comments and put out a public call for tips, offering rewards for any leads.

A new hotline launched, posters went up all over town. The story just wouldn’t die.

I called Eli, and together we went to a real estate office to sell off all of Connor’s properties. A dozen deeds in hand, the agent grinned. "Ma’am, any special requests?"

"Sell below market, close in ten days, cash up front. If you can do it, I’ll give you a half-percent commission."

"You got it!"

The agent’s eyes lit up at the commission. Papers shuffled, signatures scribbled. With every page, the weight of the past slipped a little further away.

Leaving the office, I saw Detective Harris smoking outside. "The case isn’t closed. Why the rush to sell everything?"

He flicked ash into the gutter, his eyes sharp. I met his gaze, steady and unflinching.

I smiled. "You said it yourself—the dead can’t come back, the living have to look ahead."

My smile felt brittle, but it was true. I was done letting ghosts run my life.

He stubbed out his cigarette. "Good news—the highway cams caught the van that took you, just outside the city. Tech’s restoring the footage. We might finally trace where you were taken."

Hope flickered, fragile and bright. I glanced at Eli, searching his face for any sign of relief or fear.

My heart pounded, and I looked at Eli. He dropped his gaze, silent.

His jaw tightened, hands stuffed deep in his pockets. Something about his posture made my skin crawl.

I remembered that night—the silver minivan reached the county line. I got out and switched to another car.

The memory came back, sharp and sudden—a different car, a different driver, the smell of wet asphalt.

"What do we do now?" Eli stayed calm, pulled me into his car, and kissed my forehead. "Don’t worry. I won’t let anything happen to you."

His lips were warm, his arms steady. But his words rang hollow, a promise I couldn’t believe anymore.

He turned the wheel and drove away from the office. The veins in his arm bulged—just like when he drove that unmarked van two years ago.

I watched his hands on the wheel, the memory overlapping the present, dread pooling in my gut.

——

On the eleventh day, all the properties were sold. Connor’s company shares changed hands. I remembered signing the last deed, the agent’s pen tapping impatiently. My hands shook, but I didn’t look back.

The money hit my account, cold comfort. I packed my bags, the house echoing with emptiness.

After cooperating with the police, I didn’t need to attend Grace’s trial. I booked a ticket overseas, ready to leave this nightmare behind.