From my pocket, I retrieve my black-rimmed glasses and slide them on to combat the light flares—I get headaches if I go without them for too long.I know her apartment is going to be lit up like Fort Knox with every light on, so I better put these damn things on now before the fluorescent flash-bombs feed into a migraine.
“You were out later than usual.”
The silence is awkward.Between Canada and now, shit has morphed into something neither one of us knows how to address.She’s a colleague's daughter; I’m her father’s age.We come from completely different worlds with traumas that can make or break us.
When we first met, I kept my distance because my concern for her health and safety was tied to my job.Then she started texting me at night, when her nightmares got the best of her and fear was all she knew.I’d cross the damn country just to make sure she was okay and let her burrow against me—and I did, a few times.
I remember Kace opening the door late one night and instead of arguing, I showed him the texts and he let me in without question.Nadia tried to draw her out, but she’d only leave her room for me, then fall asleep against me on the couch.The next morning, I’d be gone.
It went on for months until she found her new therapist and seemingly got better.Now she’s on her own and I’m more terrified than ever.Anxious she’ll end up hurting herself or kill someone else if I can’t get to her in time.
There’s a chance she could end up like her uncle and knowing this guts me—so I’ve dedicated myself to her safety, to helping her put the demons into their cages by sheer force.
When I’m not on a job, I’m here.I’m always here, even if she doesn’t see me.Her first day of class, the tattoo she’s yet to tell me about, at night in her room when she leaves her balcony door open for fresh air, and her little shopping trips with Nadia.I’m everywhere, and nowhere, at once.
“Yeah, was out doing things,” she deflects.Her way of keeping that mote nice and nasty.
“I imagine so.”
Approaching the resident entrance to her building, I hang back some—giving Sadie space to pull out her keycard.Swiping it over the reader, it beeps before the locks disengage and she pulls it open.In a rush she attempts to yank it closed but I’m faster and larger than she is.
Our eyes meet and I give her a glare—you know the one that puts fear into people and they comply?She stops and spins on her heel for the service elevator versus arguing.
No stairs tonight, got it.
The entry way’s nice; dimly lit and warm, decorated with a modern palette: golds, creams, and a punch of color here and there.Silk flowers sit in vases on both sides of the brass-plated elevator door, hosted by a few brochures and business cards for anyone to pick up.Then, overhead, pours a string version ofHow Did You Loveby Shinedown.
Together we stand before the doors, where she avoids my reflection for a few seconds before they slide open.The inside is bathed in the same color scheme, with a floor so shiny it refracts the light onto the slight bit of bare skin between her sneakers and leggings.Settling in, we both stare at the door, riding up in painful silence.
“Your pops told me they’re going to Michigan.Before you come for my throat, I know you’ll be fine.I’ll be around if you need anything.”
Sadie doesn’t respond, though I see her shoulders relax.Poor girl has abandonment issues like her mom—just a different kind.Nadia’s mom left her then went off and killed herself.Kace was declared dead before Sadie took her first breath.Nadia was then forced to give Sadie up for adoption.
Her uncle was the only one who came for her, and didn’t willingly leave.It took Kace and I delivering him to Carnifex to get that deranged piece of shit to disappear.It shouldn’t have bothered Sadie that much, but he was the only one who instantly recognized her crazy and accepted it for what it was.But, in a way, he abandoned her too.
Now, any time she knows she’s going to be alone, she spirals.Takes one extra pill to prevent going down the rabbit hole, and it never works—thus her blown pupils.She’s preparing, and already failing.
“Thank you,” she grinds out, as if showing gratitude will strip her of control.
Rather than harp on it, we step out of the elevator and head down the short hall to her apartment.It sits on the far left.At the opposite end of the hall is another unit that mirrors hers, with three on one side of the hall, and two more on the opposite, flanking the elevator.The building is blocky with minimal emergency routes or fire escapes.This place, regardless of its style and luxury, wouldn’t have been my last choice, never mind my first.
The second her lease is up here, she’s moving.
“Thanks for the escort.I’m good from here.”
“I’m sure.Open the door,” I order as we come up to it, where she fumbles with her awful bundle of keys and bulky charms.
“Elias, seriously, fuck off.”
“Open.The.Door.”My voice grows sharper and less forgiving.
“Fine!”she snaps, jamming the key into its slot and wrenching it to the right.The door pops free and I push it open—sure enough, every fucking light is on.
Little Trace Adkins over here.
Resting my hand at the small of her back, I urge her forward and follow her inside.I’ve been here more than enough times to know where everything’s located, and her style of organization that gives the illusion of stability.
“Shoes off at the door.”
