My hands are shaking so badly I almost drop the phone. I force myself to breathe, slow and controlled, like I’m standing over a chocolate pot and one wrong move will seize everything.
I can’t go to my family. That’s not a solution, it’s punishment. My mother will call this proof that I should’ve gone to college like my sister. My father will look at me like I’m a cautionary tale. They’ll wrap their disappointment around me and call it love.
I can’t go to Wade either. Not yet. My brother will come down here ready to burn the town down, and he’ll ask me why I didn’t tell him things got this bad. He’ll look at me like I’m breakable.
And I’m not breakable.
I’m furious.
I’m just… cornered.
My phone buzzes again.
Graham:
Come see me. We’ll fix it.
My stomach flips, sick and sharp.
Fix it.
Like we’re talking about a paperwork error and not a man who’s taking my livelihood away because he can’t stand that I left.
I type one thing, quick and clean.
Me:
Go to hell.
I hit send and immediately feel the weight of it. Not fear. Not regret.
Just the understanding that I’ve officially made myself his enemy.
And enemies get punished.
I stare at the orange notice again, at the lock that doesn’t recognize me, at my life sitting behind glass like it’s a display I’m no longer allowed to touch.
My breathing turns shallow.
I need a place to go. Now.
Somewhere he can’t reach in an hour with a smile and a threat. Somewhere I can think without feeling his hand on the back of my neck.
I scroll without really knowing what I’m looking for, thumb jerking down my screen like I can shake an answer loose.
And then I see it again—the listing I dismissed last night because it sounded insane.
Bride wanted. Kindness and Security Offered. Dog Lovers Only.
I stare at it until my pulse slows and then spikes again, like my body can’t decide if this is survival or stupidity.
My finger hovers over the number.
This is reckless.
This is humiliating.
This is not who I am.
