This is week ten (I think. I missed a few) in the Sunday Scribblings prompt hosted by Peckapalooza: The Confusing Middle.
I’ve decided to hook these challenges together to make a chapter story. Might as well make something out of it if I can. Besides it helps with inspiration, having a starting place.
The earlier chapters can be found here to bring you up to speed on the whole story.
Carly was in witness protection but her cover was blown and her life threatened.
With her protection team, they were on the run for weeks unsure of the seriousness of the threat, not wanting to take a chance with her life.
Now, Bella (new place new name) is working to settle into a new life.
Here is this week’s installment and challenge.
Bella was frustrated. Two weeks. Two weeks had gone by and she was not one step closer to a cover story she could live with.
The fallout would be catastrophic is she couldn’t get it right. Why was this so hard?
Her house was settled and fully furnished. The office was set up and the appropriate business legalities were all in place. She was stalling. Advertising for clients could happen this minute if she wanted it to. A plausible cover story was the only thing holding her back.
She was experiencing major writer’s block with life threatening implications if she couldn’t figure it out. Maybe that’s why it was such a big issue to begin with. First hand knowledge of what could happen with a slip up was impeding her progress. Not that she had been at fault in her last situation. She hadn’t but she could see how it would take only one innocent comment in the right place to ruin everything.
Truthfully? She was terrified.
How do you live a lie when you never have? This was her biggest fear, as she honestly thought about it, fear that she would forget, tell the truth and her cover would be blown all over again.
This whole thing could have been left in the hands of the authorities hiding her but there was danger of an unidentified leak like last time. No one could live with the possibility of it happening a second time.
Somehow, she had to come up with a story that felt true. True enough that even her new friends would accept it without question. True enough that she wouldn’t stumble in the telling.
Maybe she needed to approach this like a fiction writer creating a story. The emotionally detached perspective may work better for her, it was worth a try. Up to this point nothing else had worked.
Thinking about the many books she’d read it seemed common for parents, young or old, to die in horrific car crashes. Readers readily accepted that scenario. She could handle having her story sounding like that.
Only child seemed to be another common detail. It left the plot with enormous flexibility. Army brat with moves every two years would be useful in solving issues arising out of the “where are you from” question with all it’s pitfalls.
All alone in the world, from no particular place, could serve her well in avoiding dangerous fallout.
Bella could hardly wait for Monday morning to arrive. It was time to launch her new life.