“Shawn, stop. You’re hurting me.”
“Stop being a baby, Kelly. Now, go back into that room and get your things. We’re leaving.”
“What? I can’t, Shawn. I haven’t fully healed yet.”
“Dad is asking where you are. He and Mom want to come over for dinner.”
Oh. So, this guy is dragging Kelly back to be his maid and family host? After abusing her, he wants to treat her like a trophy? Or worse, a servant?
He’s so condescending about it too. I bet this isn’t the first time he’s hit her. Images of what Kelly must have gone through with that monster fill my head.
My watch chirps.
I force myself to take three deep breaths. I’m overthinking again. Maybe Shawn didn’t start hitting Kelly until after they tied the knot. Maybe this is the first time. Who knows? What’s clear is that Kelly’s been mistreated by her husband, and it really pisses me off.
My watch makes the sound again. The face shifts colors. Green surges into yellow.
A warning sign.
Even though I want to explode with rage, I can’t. Not if I want to live. And I’m not going to let Kelly’s slimy, abusive husband of all people send me into cardiac arrest.
I close my eyes, count backward from ten like the therapist taught me, and get control of my emotions.
Put them away, J. Fold them up like nice, little table napkins and put them in the box. There. There. All neat and tidy.
When my eyes open, I check my watch and let out a relieved sigh. My heart rate has retreated to non-dangerous territory.
I’ll live another day.
Crisis averted, I tap out of Kelly’s microphone and camera. I’ve seen and heard enough.
Now, what can I find out about Shawn?
I access Kelly’s photos next. She has a few photos of herself but, sadly, no pictures of other injuries. After snooping around to check if she has a secret folder, I come up empty. Checking into her microphone again, I hear Kelly sniffling and then a door opening and falling shut.
She’s leaving.
If she stops getting medical attention and goes back to him…
The psycho already put her in the hospital once. The next time, she might be rolled into a morgue while he makes up some crappy story about her falling down a longer flight of stairs.
With time running out, I sign out of Kelly’s phone and hack Shawn’s. He doesn’t even have a password.
I go straight into his browser history.
There are plenty of porn sites and search phrases about sex and positions that I haven’t even heard of. This guy is a deviant. I bet he wasn’t even faithful to Kelly while he was punching her around.
A phrase jumps out at me as I’m scrolling.
Claustrophobia.
Is that a new sexual scenario?
The word pops up in his search history again.
A few weeks ago, Shawn logged into an online forum asking about diagnosing claustrophobia.
My body buzzes the way it always does when I uncover something hidden.
