The night air was crisp for this time of year and woke me up fully in a way that sent a shudder through me. But I took off at a fast walk down the road and didn't stop. Didn't think. Just moved. I didn't know where I was going. I just needed distance. Every step away from that flat helped me breathe a little easier.
I tucked my arms close to my chest and hunched my shoulders against the chill. Every step made my entire body hurt, but I pushed through it. Streetlights passed in a blur. My thoughts barely kept up with me – jagged, restless, always circling back to the same mantra.
Keep going. Don't stop. Don't look back.
Eventually, my pace faltered. My legs ached with every step, and the adrenaline that had kept me upright started to wear off. I slowed, breath coming in short, uneven pulls. My chest hurt, my throat burned, and I was starting to feel the hangover kick in. The pounding in my head hindered my focus, but after a moment, I figured out where I was.
I veered off the road to take a side path that led to thepark. It was quiet at this hour, just a few scattered lampposts and the occasional rustle of wind through the leaves. I kept walking until I found a bench near the entrance and dropped down onto it with no grace at all. My legs gave out almost immediately.
The metal was cold and hard, but I didn't have it in me to care. I hunched forward, elbows on my knees, and fixed my gaze on the ground as I tried to catch my breath ... and then my mind finally started to catch up. Every thought I'd kept at arm's length came flooding back in.
I'd convinced myself it wasn't that bad with Marcus. Over and over again, I'd said that. I brushed off every red flag, smoothed it over, made excuses for him. Told myself I was imagining things. That I could handle it.
But I couldn't pretend anymore.
I might've gotten out of that flat, but I hadn't gotten away fromhim. I could still feel the weight of him pinning me down, in the bruises starting to form, in the way my heart refused to slow down. I couldn't breathe deep without that tightness coming back.
And now that I was sitting still and the adrenaline was burning itself out, the rest of it started to creep in, too.
I knew what he'd done. Iknew. My whole body felt wrong. I couldn't get comfortable in my own skin. I'd been cracked open and left like that for everyone to see.
And I hated it. God, I hated it.
A quieter thought broke through the noise in my head.
Eli was right.
He saw it. He knew something was wrong long before I ever let myself consider it. Every careful question, every hesitant comment... He didn't push, but he was trying to figure out why Marcus didn't sit right with him.
And I defended the bastard. I lied to myself because it was easier.
I squeezed my eyes shut. I wanted to ring Eli. Just to hear his voice, maybe. Let him calm me down the way he always did. But even if I had my phone, I couldn't call him. Not after this. I couldn't face how he might react.
Hell, I didn't knowhowhe would react. Pity? Anger? What if he asked why I didn't stop it? Why I let it happen? Why I didn't listen to him and why I stayed? I couldn't take that. Not from him. Not when everything in me already felt scraped raw.
The panic tried to claw back up again. It swelled in my chest and left me hot and breathless.
I straightened and pulled in a slow breath. Then another. I forced myself to focus on the way the chill of the night air bit at my skin. The sharpness gave me something to hold onto. I counted to four. Then back. Again. Slowly, the panic ebbed enough for me to think straight.
I needed to do something about this.
There had to be a test for this, right? Something they could do to confirm it? If Marcus really did ... drug me, then I needed it on record. I could talk to them at the hospital. Ask them to call the police, have someone go back with me to get my stuff. I wasn't setting foot in that flat alone again.
The thought of walking all the way to A&E looking like this made my stomach turn. I'd be wrecked tomorrow. Hungover. Sore. No sleep. No plan. But I couldn't let this slide.
I pushed myself up from the bench, knees stiff, arms aching, and started moving. Slow at first. Then steadier. I kept my head down as I headed for the main road.
I was in for a long night.
Eli
13
I didn't sleep much that night. I kept thinking I'd missed some important detail buried in all the polished answers and picture-perfect PR. But I didn't have much to work with outside of that deleted comment and Tom's confirmation that Rowan wasn't acting right. None of it really told me who Marcus was.
And the more I looked at the same sterile interviews and company fluff, the more it seemed the man was just smoke and mirrors.
I had a few things I had to do the next day. Stuff I'd already committed to before all this happened. But as soon as I was done, I planned to find Rowan. Talk to him face to face and see for myself that he was okay. Hopefully without Marcus standing over his shoulder.
