Page 408 of Call Me Baby 2: Side B

boy,

bare-throated, breathing hard,

not knowing who the fuck he is now.

His hand falls to his side.

“I need space,” he scrapes out,

voice almost a whisper.

“From you.”

59 / WRITER IN THE DARK

LORDE

// 4 HRS 12 MINS OF SPACE, 4:14 PM - PENTHOUSE //

Space did not need a face to hate it.

A body to feel the weight of it.

A hand to be choked by it.

A mouth to hear its scream.

It stalks around every corner,

watches from every shadow,

its heartbeat in every clock.

Seconds you can’t outrun⁠—

a tick… tick… tick…

Ding.

The elevator doors open, and I step into the penthouse, somehow feeling both angry and numb.

It’s been exactly 4 hours and 12 minutes since Andrew said he needed space (which is the precise amount of time for me to lose my goddamn mind).

The second the words left his mouth back in Ramsey, I hit the button on my app, called a car, had a stranger rescue me.

If he needs space from me,

I’ll give him space.

I’ll give him so much fuckin’ space he’ll need a rocket ship to find his way back.

Ben’s here, lifting weights on the terrace.

I haven’t talked to him since the day he smacked me—humiliated me, violated me—and if it were any other day, I’d continue avoiding him.

But after what happened today? Timing for his punishment couldn’t be more generous.

I step out onto the terrace.