*BUZZ*

"Hello, it's me."

*BUZZ BUZZ*

"I've been wondering."

*BUZZ*

"Alexa, alarm off," I groan.

I'm not ready to wake up.

*BUZZ*

"If, after all this time."

God damn, electronics never work when I need them to.

After swatting around the couch searching for my phone, I finally locate it and turn off the obnoxious noise.

I love you, Adele, but sorry, not sorry.

Fuck why does my body hurt?

I've barely done anything, but the slightest movement is causing an aching pain between my legs.

Since I'm awake, I might as well start my day and check my phone.

It's full of notifications. There are two voicemails, and a dozen missed calls from an unknown number.

Calling my voicemail, I listen to the first message, and it's from my lawyer.

"Good afternoon Rory. It's Cynthia,"

"Judge Andrew's called to inform us that he is postponing the court date until further notice."

What the fuck does she mean by postponed until further notice?

The emergency order from the judge expires soon.

"Press nine to delete this message or seven to save," the computer-animated voice prompts.

All the blood drains from my body when I
press seven, and Eric's voice starts playing through the speaker.

"Did you think it would be as easy as changing your phone number to get rid of me?"

"Or that an order of protection would stop me from giving you the ass beating you deserve?"

"You can't hide from me, Rory."

In response to his last words, I kick my blanket off and proceed to make sure all the doors are locked, but I stop when something wet runs down my thigh.

Fuck, Is it that time of the month already?

It can't be. I had my period last week.

Darting to the bathroom closet, I reach for a tampon and washcloth to clean myself off, but when I wipe between my legs, there's no blood.

I'm soaking wet with arousal.

Reading must have ignited a dirty dream or two.

As I continue to clean myself up, my hand glides over a raised spot on my thigh, and my hands begin to shake in fear of what I'll find. When I get enough courage to remove the cloth, there's a blue and purple bruise that resembles a bite.

What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck.

There's no way this is happening to me. I must be asleep. I'm dreaming!

"Wake up, Rory," I say, placing a tight pinch on my wrist.

I'm not asleep, and this can't be a coincidence.

Eric was here.

The washcloth I was holding drops from my hand as I run to my closet.

I'll start my day later. Right now, I'd rather hide.

Even though my new bed was delivered yesterday, the closet is my safe place. I secure the lock after entering and begin to strip off my maxi dress, but the longer I search for something to wear, the more my knees shake.

"Fuck clothes," I think before I fall to my palette on the floor.

I'm going back to sleep.

As my hand goes under the jacket I'm using for a temporary pillow, it hits what seems to be a folded-up piece of paper.

Without a shadow of a doubt, I already know what it is, but my curious brain can't help but take it out and open it.

On the paper is a black-and-white photo of me lying on the floor taken from inside this closet.

🖤 Who's your favorite musical artist?