Identification check, money counted and brought up, she can order anything on room service for free.
When they leave, she lowers herself slowly onto the edge of the sofa. She sits there like someone who has forgotten how to relax. One hand drifts to her side and presses gently over her ribs, and I see the pain flash across her face.
Anger begins to weave through me. Not the clean, controlled kind I’m used to. Something darker. Something deeply personal.
Whoever hurt her will answer for it.
I inhale slowly, breathing through the burn beneath my sternum. Control has always been my greatest strength, my sharpest weapon. But as I watch her tuck her knees to her chest and curl slightly inward, like she’s trying to disappear into herself, I feel that control begin to fray at the edges.
She shouldn’t be alone. She shouldn’t be afraid. She shouldn’t look like she’s preparing for something to crash through the door at any moment.
She doesn’t know it yet, but whatever she’s running from ends tonight.
Jasmine
The suite is plush and quiet. A stark contrast to the casino floor downstairs.
Ten-thousand dollars. I can’t believe it happened.
The door clicks softly behind the security officers, and the silence rushes in like a tide. I stand there frozen, my fingers clenched around the strap of my bag, staring at the luxurious room that looks like it belongs in a magazine spread. Too many pillows. Too much brocade. Too much space for someone who’s spent the last few nights sleeping with her shoes still on.
I tell myself this is good. A blessing. A miracle. A chance to breathe. But the longer I stand in the middle of all this expensive comfort, the more my heartbeat crawls up into my throat. My skin prickles like it does when someone’s eyes are on me, even though no one’s here.
You’re being ridiculous, I whisper inside my own head. You’re safe. It’s a hotel and casino, not a trap.
Still, the air feels heavy, like the room is holding its breath along with me. I catch myself glancing toward the corners, the ceiling, the shadows beneath the furniture. The knot of tension in my ribs tightens until I have to exhale slowly just to stop it from hurting.
I sit on the edge of the sofa because standing is starting to hurt too much. The cushion dips under my weight, soft enough that Isink in a little. It should feel comforting. Instead it feels like an invitation I didn’t ask for.
They told me they had to verify my ID before they could release the funds. Normal procedure. Asked if I wanted cash or bank transfer. They even congratulated me, smiling like they see this happen every day. Maybe they do. Maybe thousands of people win big here. Ten grand is nothing to a place like this.
But to me it’s everything. It’s a ticket away from my ex. Out of the nightmares. Out of the reach of the man who turned my life into something small and suffocating.
I run a hand through my hair and sag forward, elbows on my knees. The ache in my ribs pulses with every breath. I try not to think about him. The things he said before I escaped. The promises. The threats. The look in his eyes when he realised I wasn’t going to obey him anymore. Wasn’t going to take the blame for his recklessness.
My pulse spikes and I squeeze my eyes shut to focus on calming down. The floor doesn’t creak. The walls don’t shake. No footsteps. No slammed doors. No shouting. Just silence.
Safe. Even if it’s just for tonight. Please, let me have that.
My mind won’t settle. Every few seconds I feel a faint tingle along the back of my neck, the kind that usually means someone is breathing down it. I twist, scanning the room again, but there’s nothing. No shadows shifting. No figures.
"Get a grip," I mutter under my breath.
Maybe I’m jumpy because I’ve spent too long running. Too long waiting for the next blow, the next threat, the next reminder that I don’t belong here. Maybe stepping into a place like this, full of expensive fixtures and quiet luxury, is more terrifying than any dark alleyway. If I could just sleep, maybe I’d be okay,but I’ve not slept properly since I ran from the hospital. Since before even then.
I stand and walk to the window, rubbing my arms against a sudden chill as the aircon kick in. The city spreads out below, glittering and loud even though I can’t hear any of it from up here. It doesn’t feel real. Nothing feels real tonight.
I catch my reflection in the glass and almost flinch. I look small against all of it. Small and tired and grimy. I force my shoulders to drop. I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth like the therapist in the shelter taught me before I made a go of it on my own. Before I got a job and my own place and actually started turning my life around.
Before I methim.
I tell myself again that I’m safe. Nobody knows I’m here. Nobody will find me tonight. The casino staff wouldn’t have brought me to a place like this if they didn’t intend to protect their own process. Their own customers. No one can reach me while ever I’m in this room.
I walk through to the bathroom and blink a few times in the dimmed lights. The bath is enormous, at least big enough for two people, and it has jets.
I start running the hot water, choosing the complementary bubble bath from beside the sink and pouring all of it in.
If I’ve got one night of luxury, I should make the most of it. I’ll get cleaned up, change my clothes, maybe even cut more of my hair off. There must be a pair of scissors here somewhere. I always wanted to try a bob and look like one of those women on the front of high fashion magazines from when I was little.
