Chapter 1
The Only Safe Space
Kiki
Open the door, Kiki. You can’t sit here forever.
My hand grips the manila folder as my foot twitches out an anxious rhythm.
Just a few more minutes. A few more centering breaths. A few more?—
What’s the point? A few more minutes won’t change a damn thing.
A small internal voice offers a modicum of hope.
Maybe today will be different. Maybe no one will say anything.
It’s a lie, but one I cling to like a dying man to a life preserver.
There are moments when I feel like my old self.Almostnormal. No stares, no whispers, no gossip waiting for me the moment I turn the corner.
Those moments never last long.
But today, I have a mission. Maybe it’s a minor one, but I made a promise and, damn it, I’m true to my word.
I plaster on a smile as my trembling hands wrap around the door handle.
“Come on, Kiki. You can do this. You walk in, hand him the folder, and walk out. Easy peasy.”
Of course, it’s anythingbuteasy.
Nothing is easy anymore.
I step out of the car and smooth my hand over my pants, catching my ghost-thin frame in the rear window. Once upon a time, I appreciated mirrors, my slender silhouette reflected back at me. Now, I avoid the damn things.
It’s been weeks since I stepped on a scale. What’s the point? I don’t need a number to remind me of my jutting hip bones, skeletal wrists, or clavicles that could double as jousting tools.
Little by little, pound by pound, day by day, the old me slips away, leaving a shell in her place.
Across the field, a game is already underway, the crack of a bat cutting through the crisp fall air.
I step off the pavement and onto the grass, and that’s when I see it—the first accusatory glance. A woman, a fellow Sparkwood local, leans into her friend. I can’t hear her words, but I’d bet money I know exactly what she’s saying.
That’s her.
The wife of that piece of shit monster. The sex trafficker.
I can’t believe she’d show her face here, of all places.
If they only knew how many mantras I repeated to myself in the car to gather enough gumption to step outside. How many deep breaths I drew in through trembling lips, willing the courage to withstand their hatred.
The worst part of this mess?
They’re not wrong about anything they say.
My estranged husband, Drake,isa monster.
Heisa piece of shit, and hehasbeen charged with human trafficking, all carried out while employed as Sparkwood’spolice chief.
