It’s three in the morning now. I load the animals into the car Ava left me keys to. No one stops me. The guards at the door look uncomfortable but don’t say anything. They do help me carry my boxes to the car, which I appreciate. Anything to get me away from here faster.
I drive to my apartment, the one Daddy bought, my shoulders quaking, tears streaming down my face. It’s empty and cold and nothing like the brownstone.
I only bother to take the animals inside. I’ll get the rest tomorrow.
Once we’re finally together and the door is triple locked, I curl up on the floor with the animals spread around me.
And I cry until the sun comes up.
TWENTY-SEVEN
marlowe
It takestwo weeks to rebuild a life you didn’t want to leave.
I buy furniture. Fill my apartment with things that are mine, not inherited, not borrowed, but truly mine. A purple velvet couch. A bed with too many pillows. Shelves for the romance books I’ve been meaning to read but can’t bear to crack open because my heart is too sad.
The animals settle into our new life slowly. Lola’s cone comes off after our latest trip to the vet, and he immediately tries to attack a pigeon through the window. Fiona claims the couch. Monarch finds a sunny spot, and her weeping has finally ceased. Pepper’s vocabulary expands to include “heartbroken whore” and “stupid fucking Irish.”
He’s been listening to me cry and vent.
I go back to the ballet. Not because I want to, but because I don’t know what else to do yet. I throw myself into rehearsals until my feet bleed and my muscles scream yet again.
But it’s a distraction, at the very least. And I dance until I can’t think.
It almost works.
Topher finds me in the studio one afternoon. Everyone else has gone home but I’m still practicing.
He sits against the mirror and quietly watches me for a while before he speaks.
“You look like you could use someone to talk to.”
“I don’t want to talk. I just want to forget.” I don’t stop pirouetting.
“When’s the last time you slept? Or consumed something that wasn’t coffee?”
I don’t answer. Not because I don’t know the answer. I just don’t want to admit it.
“He’s an idiot,” Topher says when I don’t respond.
I stop mid-spin. “You don’t even know what happened.”
“I know you came back looking like someone died, and you’ve been dancing yourself to death ever since.” He pats the floor beside him. “Come on. Just take a break.”
I don’t want to, but my legs are shaking and my lungs burn like I’ve swallowed fire. Maybe I need a friend.
I heave a deep sigh and sink down to the cool floor.
“He told me to leave.” I trace my finger along the groove between hardwood floorboards. “After everything. After he saved me. He said his life was too dangerous and I should have my freedom back.”
“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“I know.”
“Did you tell him that?”
“I called him a coward.” I laugh. It’s jagged and broken, just like my heart. “He didn’t deny it.”
