Sadie
It's times like these when I wonder what is wrong with me.
I got away from a relationship I hadn't even realized was abusive until I laid it all out for my boss. It was Dr. Mehta who helped me understand how bad things had become with Jason and got me out.
Now Jason is in my new apartment, looking around with snide derision at how I live, his lip curled in cruel satisfaction.
"Jesus Christ, Sadie." He sounds genuinely surprised and a little disgusted. "This is what you left me for?"
My hands grip the counter behind me. I take a breath and force myself to let go, to at least appear calm. I fold my arms across my chest instead, because the tank top is thin and I didn't put a bra on, and I don't want him looking at me. I don't want him to see a single part of me.
"How did you find me?" My voice comes out steadier than I feel. A small mercy I cling to, and it lets my confidence grow a fraction.
"You used our credit card at a gas station." He looks bored.
Anger flares in my chest, though I'm not sure if I'm angry at him or at myself for being so stupid.
"That card was in my name."
"It was in both our names, babe." He smiles the smile. The one that used to work on me. "Anyway. That got me the state. The rest was easier. You'd be surprised what people will tell you if you look like you're worried about your missing girlfriend."
Missing girlfriend.The words land somewhere in the pit of my stomach and sit there, oily and thick enough to make me want to vomit.
He walks the length of the apartment, craning his neck to see into the bathroom. He's doing it on purpose, putting his back to me, showing me he isn't afraid of me. He picks up my book from the bed, looks at the cover, drops it back down on the blankets. My bookmark slides out and lands on the floor.
"You got a beer?" he asks, turning back to face me.
"No." I bite the word out, still trying to figure out the best way to handle this.
"Water, then."
"Jason, I think you should leave."
He turns around. His jaw is set. I know that look. I have watched that face across a kitchen table for four years and I know exactly how long I have before it turns into something else.
"Water, Sadie."
I go to the cupboard and pull down the one mug I brought with me, hating that he'll have his hands on it. His mouth. I fill it from the faucet anyway and slide it across the counter, feeling better that we now have the bulk of the small kitchen island between us.
A thought, clear as a bell, materializes in my mind. I could throw the mug at his head and run. Then it's gone, because I can't run fourteen blocks in a tank top and underwear at this time of night in April. I don't have my shoes on, and I don't have my phone, and he is still between me and the door.
He picks up the mug and drinks the whole thing in one go, then sits on the edge of my bed like he owns it. The mattress dips under his weight and my stomach does something cold.
"So." He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "Who was the guy?"
Nick will come back.
The thought arrives before I can stop it, full-formed and useless. He won't. He left over an hour ago for something urgent with his father, and he probably isn't coming back tonight. Then the next thought hits me. Even if I could get to my phone, I never got Nick's number. My phone has the clinic's number in it in case I need to ring off sick. That's it.
"A friend."
"A friend." He nods slowly. "Leaving your apartment at ten at night."
I don't dignify that with an answer. My life is none of Jason's business. Not anymore.
"Huh." He rubs his jaw. "You don't have friends, Sadie. You had my friends."
Something rises in my chest that isn't fear. It's older than fear. It's the thing that got me out of Millbrook, and I push it back down because I need it later, not now.
