The hotel door clicks shut behind me, and I collapse onto the king-size bed.
The adrenaline crash hits all at once, leaving me trembling so hard I can’t catch my breath.
My chest heaves, tears blur my vision, and the pounding in my face and ribs spikes with every heartbeat.
I press a pillow against my face, muffling the sob that escapes from me.
My body no longer feels like mine—it’s a jumble of sharp aches and raw nerves, all tied together with fear. My mind feels worse, as if it’s shattering into jagged pieces.
I never thought I’d be here.
Not me.
I used to believe that abuse only happened to other people, people who were weak or blind. But here I am, swallowing Ray’s venom day after day, nodding as if I deserve it.
Even when his hand struck my face, or his shove knocked the breath out of me, I convinced myself it wasn’t that bad, that it was just normal.
I fumble for the cheap burner phone. The glow of the screen burns my swollen eyes as I search for signs of an abusive relationship.
The words hit like fresh blows, red flags so obvious even a kindergartner could see them—humiliation, control, manipulation, physical violence.
Every line feels like a mirror. I’m the frog in boiling water, sitting in the pot, convincing myself it wasn’t hot.
Feeling so lost and alone, I scramble to think clearly, but my thoughts spin like tires in mud.
I need someone—just one person.
My mom and Heather are still gone. My work friends are only that—work friends. And everyone else, anywhere close to a friend, belongs to Ray, not me.
But one name continues to stand out amid the chaos.
Aiden.
I try to shove it down, telling myself it’s a bad idea and that he’s better off not being dragged into this mess. But lying here in the dimly lit hotel room, staring at the ceiling with blood dried under my nose and pain piercing through my ribs, all I want is to hear his voice.
My fingers tremble so much that I nearly drop the phone again as I type his number from memory.
Jay: Hey Aiden, it’s Jay. I had to get a new number. Are you free to talk?
It’s late, almost midnight in New York. He’s probably asleep or out. But two minutes later, the phone buzzes.
Aiden: Yeah, I’m free. Call me.
My throat tightens as I dial, and he answers on the first ring.
“Hey,” he says, his voice warm but worried. “Are you alright? Why do you have a new number?”
The sound of his voice shatters what little control I had left. My breath catches, and sobs break free.
“I’m not okay,” I choke out, tears streaming down my face.
“What’s wrong? What happened?” His voice is sharp with concern.
I take a moment to regain control before the words slip out, raw and ugly.
“You remember when you asked me if I was safe with Ray?” Sobs choke my words. “I…I’m not safe.”
Admitting that makes my stomach churn with shame. I’m a grown-ass man, yet here I am, crying like some scared kid who can’t handle his own life.
