“You little…”
I don’t stay to hear the rest.
Adrenaline floods my system, pushing me forward as I bolt down the hallway, slam my bedroom door shut, and shove the chair under the handle with shaking hands, my chest heaving as I grab whatever I can reach, my guitar, my backpack, my wallet, my fingers clumsy and too slow while the door behind me rattles under his weight.
“OPEN THE DOOR, ALEXIS!”
The impact splinters through the wood, the chair scraping under the force of it, and I don’t wait for it to give.
I shove the window open and climb through, scraping my arms on the way down, the night air hitting my lungs as I land hard and take off running, his roar chasing me into the dark.
I reach my truck and throw myself inside, locking the doors with trembling hands that barely cooperate as I fumble for the keys, my breath coming too fast, too shallow as I jam them into the ignition.
Russel bursts out of the trailer, charging toward me.
“Come on,” I whisper, my voice breaking as the engine coughs beneath me.
Once.
Again.
For a second, terror claws up my spine, thick and suffocating, and then it finally catches, roaring to life just as he gets too close.
I slam my foot down and peel out of the driveway, gravel spitting behind me as his shouts fade into the distance, my whole body shaking, my throat raw, my heart pounding so hard it feels like it might break through my chest.
I don’t stop.
Not when the bruises start to bloom. Not when my hands won’t steady. Not when my lungs burn with every breath.
I drive until the tank runs dry.
The engine sputters as I roll into a parking lot, the glow of a flickering neon sign cutting through the dark.
Midnight Rodeo.
The engine dies beneath me, and I sag back into the seat, every muscle in my body trembling, my guitar resting in the back like the only piece of my life I managed to take with me.
My chest rises and falls, uneven, raw, every breath still catching on the edge of what just happened.
But for the first time in years…
I can breathe.
I am not going back.
I amdone.
???
Dexter
“So Grace dumped his ass?” I ask Cas, leaning my forearms on the bar as I watch him take a sip of his beer. He’s here with Penny and Jude, the three of them tucked into their usual spots like they belong here as much as I do. Sunday nights are slower, quieter, the kind where the bar feels less like work and more like home.
“Yeah. She said long distance wasn’t working out.” Cas shrugs like it doesn’t bother him, but I know him better than that. Our little sister moved to the University of Wyoming in September to study, and her boyfriend followed a different path, chasing a scholarship in Montana. A year, and it’s already over.
Not that I mind. I prefer her single and safe.
“Good riddance,” Jude mutters, not even looking up from his drink.
