“Don’t be shy, sweetheart. I’m just being friendly.” His voice is oily, making my skin crawl. “You look like you could use some company. Maybe some…comfort.”
“I’m fine, thank you.” My voice is carefully neutral, but inside, I’m screaming.
“Come on now, don’t be like that. I’m a nice guy. I could show you a real good time.”
I endured years of Dante’s “friends” making similar comments at parties while he watched with amusement.
Something inside me snaps.
“LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!”
My voice echoes through the bus, making every passenger turn to stare. The man jerks back in surprise, his gold tooth disappearing behind suddenly pursed lips.
“You don’t have to be a bitch about it,” he mutters.
“Yes, I do!” I’m on my feet now, grabbing my purse and pushing past him toward the front of the bus. “I’m tired of men thinking they’re entitled to my attention! I’m tired of being polite when you won’t take no for an answer!”
The bus driver glances at me in the rearview mirror. “Everything okay back there?”
“It is now,” I say, claiming a seat right behind him.
The man with the gold tooth doesn’t bother me for the rest of the trip.
When we finally reach Rosehill, I’m the first one off the bus. The sky has turned gray while I was traveling, heavy clouds promising rain. I should hurry home, but I can’t bring myself to move faster than a walk.
The first drops hit when I’m still two blocks from my apartment. By the time I reach my building, I’m soaked through, my hair plastered to my head, and my coat dripping onto the sidewalk.
I don’t care.
I stand there in the rain, letting it wash over me, and cry for everything I’ve lost. Not Dante—never Dante. But for the girl I was before I met him. For the years he stole from me. For the dreams he crushed, the confidence he destroyed, the trust he shattered so completely I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to put the pieces back together.
Now he’s dead, and I should feel free. But all I feel is…empty. Lost. Like I spent so much time defining myself in opposition to him that I don’t know who I am without something to run from.
Eventually, the cold drives me inside. I peel off my wet clothes, take a scalding shower, and change into the softest pajamas I own. Then I settle on my couch with a bowl of chips and try to figure out what comes next.
I’m halfway through deciding whether to look for a new job or maybe go back to school when I hear it.
A car door slamming shut outside.
Then another.
And another.
My blood turns to ice. In a town like Rosehill, people don’t travel in groups after dark. They don’t park multiple cars outside the hardware store at nine o’clock at night.
I creep to the window and peek through the curtain. Three black SUVs sit under the streetlight, engines still running. Men in darksuits are getting out, checking their phones, looking up at my building.
My hands start shaking so badly I nearly drop the bowl.
They found me.
Heavy footsteps echo on the stairs outside, getting closer. I back away from the door, my heart hammering against my ribs. Then someone pounds on my door.
The sound is so loud, so aggressive, that I jump and press my hand over my mouth to keep from screaming.
They’ve come for me.
5
