What lies within

Amie glanced again at the small sealed package sitting on her kitchen counter, as she furiously picked the little fingernail of the right hand that her chin was disheartenedly resting on.

Should I call the police? She wondered once more, uncertain about what the most sensible next step was.

Certainly, she had made a foolish mistake by taking the package in the first place and she knew she was making a far more reckless one by wasting so much time in indecision. She could not even imagine how dangerously stupid - and illegal - it would be to make another false move.

Amie was a rational woman. Yet, the urge to open that brown envelope was too strong to dismiss. One way or the other, what lied within was going to give her the long-sought answer she needed to finally kill or ignite that frail ray of hope that still breathed in her.

Torn between what she thought was right, what she feared to be right and what she felt could be right, Amie was in stalemate. And so, she did the only thing she could since she picked the package. She glanced at it again.

———— One hour and 13 minutes before

The high-pitched ding of the elevator pierced sharply through the torpor of Amie's mind to signal that she had reached her floor. It had been a long day at the office, and she was just waiting to take off her shoes and watch some Netflix on her sofa with a glass of cold Chardonnay by her side.

Amie took a step out of the elevator into the immaculate landing and then stood still on the spot, in the one-pointed search for her house keys.

"Ah, ah!" She murmured triumphant after a few moments, as she lifted the key ring and her gaze from the tiny mess that always lived inside her handbag. What she saw made her eyebrows twitch in mild surprise.

A tiny parcel was waiting by her front doorway, yet she wasn't expecting any delivery that evening. Not many unexpected things would happen in Amie's life anymore since she went into witness relocation, so she approached the parcel with cat-like curiosity. The small package was wrapped in brown paper with a thin jute string tied around, just like a present. Who would send me a gift? She thought puzzled, no special occasion or person coming to her mind, as she picked up the package from the floor.

Looking for the answer, Amie peeked at the white etiquette perfectly attached to its centre with a growing tightness to her heart. Her name and address were handwritten on it, no information about the sender. Nor she needed any. The slim black letters, contrasting so sharply with the pure white background, had a peculiar left slant and long tail to them she had seen many times before. The package was from her husband. And it was not a gift, it was penance.

Her first instinct was to let go of the risky item, likely she held tight to it instead. She doubted it but, for all she knew, an explosive could be there. And you don't want to drop those. She felt a bit silly as she tentatively brought her ear close to the object, just to make absolutely sure. The silence was deafening. Amie sighed in oxymoronic relief to the nescient panic that had already taken full control over her.

As she tried to formulate any thought in her mind, the only certainty that she could find was the feeling that she was too exposed in the open space. So, she rushedly put the key in her lock and quickly closed the door behind her back. Without even turning on the light, Amie warily placed the package on the kitchen counter and took a seat right in front. He found me, she thought in a turmoil of clashing emotions. What should I do?

------ One hour and 27 minutes after

I'll open it, and then call the police. Amie said to herself with conviction as she crystallised her answer.

When her husband had disappeared five years ago, she had become a powerless spectator in her life. All she could do was accepting what was imposed on her by others.

Her husband, the loving man who had cared for her and whom she trusted like none else, was a human trafficker. He had vanished into thin air as the Interpol started looking for him, taking away her chance to confront him. To look him in the eyes as he broke her heart.

The police, who was supposed to serve and protect, took everything away from her too. Answers, home, family, friends, life. They could not share any information about the case with her - "for her own protection". The evidence is strong, that's all they'd say. They kept her under surveillance for six months in the hope that her husband would reach out for her, which he never did. And then forced her to take a new identity, cut all contacts with her past life and move to Chicago.

How was she supposed to find closure in this?

Still, recently, she had managed to find some normality again in her new identity. She had stopped thinking about him for more than once every now and then. She was enjoying the small joys in life. Sun, music, wine. That he would reach out now was a sad game of fate.

And Amie was tired to be a pawn.

Fingers trembling, she clumsily untied the knot enclosing the package and gently positioned the jute string on the counter. She had to be delicate and keep everything, it was evidence after all. She took a deep breath in. With one fingernail, she slowly detached the tape from one corner of the brown wrapping and easily slid out a tiny black box. The brown envelop was carefully positioned on the table too. Holding the little square box in both her hands, her thumbs heavily lifted the lid. Painstakingly, Amie took out each item one by one.

A little written piece of paper. A passport. A flight ticket. A bunch of 50 euro notes on a money roll.

Amie's heart started racing in her chest, her legs as soft as noodles.

<<You are not safe. Take a taxi, pay cash only, leave all electronics. Trust me, buttercup. I'll see you there.>> That's what the note said.

Her left hand took hold tightly of the side of the table, like an anchor keeping her from sinking. Buttercup.

She checked the ticket. The flight was in two hours time, direction: Amsterdam. Can I even make it on time? She thought.

And in that moment she knew. She won't call the police, not yet. She had to try. No time to overthink this. She will trust her instincts, follow belief over fear. And if she was going to fall, at least it would be her decision. She'd be in peace in knowing so.

Swiftly, she dropped his gifts in her handbag and picked up her keys again. She slowly took the phone out of the pocket of her jacket. After a moment of consideration, she took off one of her hearings and used the pin to take out the SIM card. She dropped the card in the bag too and threw the phone in the rubbish together with all the parcel packaging.

With the bin bag in one hand and the handbag in the other, Amie stepped out into the night. And, unexpectedly, she smiled.