He did say that it would be a terrible idea to meet up with him. I suppose he’s trying to make a point.
I kicked the covers off of my bed, sighing and trying not to start my day in such a foul mood. I got to the kitchen and opened the fridge, looking for my typical almond milk with egg whites and hashbrowns.
And that was when my “try not to” failed. I’d run out of egg whites and almond milk the day before. I guessed the stress had gotten bad enough that I just hadn’t paid attention to how little food I had.
“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath.
I didn’t swear that much, which meant I really was in a bad mood. I checked my phone. It was just past eight in the morning. And, for good measure, I checked my messages again. No surprise there, Mason hadn’t said anything back. If not for the fact that I didn’t text much to begin with, I might have felt tempted to write some more, regardless of how much I knew it would be counterproductive.
I checked on my phone to see if the nearest grocery store had opened yet. Mercifully, it had. I hated to wait on breakfast, for no meal was more enjoyable to me than the one upon first waking up, but the alternative was to wait forever or until lunch. I got dressed, grabbed my keys, splashed my face with cold water so I’d wake up, and headed over.
The one good thing about being as sleepy as I was, I supposed, was that it made long, hard thoughts difficult. Removed from the stimulant of an empty fridge and a silent phone, I just concentrated on keeping my eyes forward, my awareness sharp, and my foot by the gas pedal. I could not get breakfast quickly enough.
When I walked inside the store, it was your typical early morning shoppers. Senior citizens, some younger people presumably getting off a swing shift, and the rare early-bird gym rat who had been up for the previous three hours. I did not envy any one of those groups.
I heard some commotion near the back as well, but I was too tired to pay much attention to it. The less I had to deal with while at this store, the far better this experience would be.
I made my way over to the dairy section with my cart, intending this to be as quick a journey as possible. I got down to the very end of the aisle and went through a few different brands of egg whites before I settled on my favorite. I put it in the cart and turned back toward the milk.
And that’s when I sawhim.
My heart started racing. My hands went clammy. I gulped, found it in myself to turn around, and went to a different aisle.
It wasn’t Mason I’d seen.
Eduardo.
One of the three rapists from that awful night. He was…he washere.
I bit down on my lip and tried to focus on my breathing, but I was fighting a losing battle. I felt like a mouse did when it saw a cat, like wounded prey when it saw a wolf. I had to get out of this store and I had to get out now, milk or eggs be damned. I’d rather starve than have to face the prospect of having Eduardo talk to me.
I put my head down and moved my cart forward. I was in a different aisle. I needed to get to the checkout line. I had eggs, anyway. I’d drink water; I’d make do. I—
BAM!
“Oh, shit, sorry, I—”
I looked up. I’d hit someone else’s cart with my cart. But not just anyone else.
Him.
There was no escape now. Eduardo had me in his line of sight. No, he had made eye contact with me. And I could not escape.
“Rachel Reid,” he said, almost sounding surprised at hearing the words escape his mouth. “I haven’t seen your pretty face in nearly a decade now.”
I tried to get around him. No dice. He moved quickly and easily.
“Where are you trying to go?” he said in the most condescending manner possible. “We just barely saw each other, and you’re already wanting to leave? That’s not very nice of you.”
I was trying my hardest not to speak to him. I knew the instant I opened my mouth, I would lose either my temper or control of the situation. He was too good not to make it look like this was my fault somehow.
“Tell me, Rachel, how have you been? You look like you haven’t had good company in quite some time. I can change that, you know. It’s not like you’ve had anyone since to make you forget.”
I glared at him with fury and hatred. But I looked away when I was afraid tears would start to come. No, I could not be bullied. I could not be weak. At least not for him to say.
“Let me go and leave me alone,” I finally said with more strength than I had anticipated. Unfortunately, the result was just more laughter from Eduardo.
“Leave you alone?” he said. “Why, you’re the one that rammed into my cart!”
