In the corner of my room sit boxes of my belongings, and the moving truck will be here tomorrow to take them to my new apartment.

One would think moving from the first house you purchased out of high school would be a sentimental moment, but it's not. I'm ecstatic to be getting the fuck out of here.

While packing my mom's china the other day, I found another picture lying on the floor. It appears to be taken from a camera in my living room and shows me passed out on the couch while the masked man's face is between my legs.

He isn't wearing a mask, though, and from the camera's angle, I can only see a side view of his head.

I told Officer Smith about it when he called to update me the other day about the first picture I received, but he wasn't updating me on anything new.

He stood his ground with the pictures not being enough evidence and suggested that since the TOP is no longer in effect, it would be best for my safety to leave town.

No shit, buddy. I'm already working on that.

My phone ringing brings me back to reality. It's Jamie. It's been a few days since I heard from her, and I feel compelled to answer.

"Hello," I answered.

"Rory, darling, what is this? I hear you are moving out of the house?" she says in one breath.

"Eric is standing here with me, and we don't believe that's the best option for your relationship."

I'm dumbfounded by what she's saying. There's no way she truly believes I give two fucks what Eric thinks or that we still have a relationship.

I take a deep breath before calmly saying, "Jamie, I've already had my lawyer draw paper up for the divorce. Eric no longer has a say in what I do, let alone where I live."

There's a long pause before Eric's voice emanates through the phone.

"Where the fuck are you moving to, Rory?" he spews.

"I will hunt you down no matter where you go and bash your fucking skull with a baseball bat. Once you're dead, I'll cut your body into pieces and feed them to the gators in the swamp."

Eric has lost his goddamn mind. I should hang up but knowing that this will be the last time we speak, I need to stand my ground.

"You can't control me anymore, Eric. I'm leaving this house of horrors and you in my past," I say sternly.

"We'll see about that wife," he says, sending a chill down my spine before hanging up the phone.

*************************************************

With a glass of wine, I head to the breakfast nook. This is my last chance to watch the sunset from this spot before I leave.

Since the incident with the first picture, I've shied away from spending time in the kitchen.

This entire house has become a giant downer.

"Less than twenty-four hours, and I'll be out of here," I say to the empty room.

As I scan what's left of "our" favorite room, I notice the back sliding door is unlocked.

Fuck my life.

Who knows how long it's been like that, and I've been open prey to the two sick fucks taunting me.

When the locking mechanism clicks into place, I'm frightened by a loud crashing sound from the opposite side of the house.

"Now, what?" I mutter while dropping to my hands and knees.

If I can crawl to the buffet, I should be able to hide behind it like a shield.

I need to try getting to my closet, but before attempting to creep in that direction, there's another loud noise. This time it's not a crash- it's the distinctive sound of glass shattering and pieces hitting the hardwood floors.

Slowly I try to open the blind cabinet corner. It should be big enough for me to cram myself there.

"Rory, I know this house like the back of my hand. There's nowhere you can hide from me," Eric bellows.

Fuck, I almost wish it was the masked stranger instead.

🖤 Would you hide, run or attack in this situation?