by Elena Monroe
The nearest beach in Chicago was too far for the city residents to care about, including me. Concrete jungles were something I already conquered.
Putting me down, I stumbled to find my balance when my hands landed on his chest to keep me upright.
I was covered in sand sticking to my wet body, and the air between us had gotten heavy for a moment. Our eyes locked. My hands willingly touched his wet chest, and his hands were on my hips trying to help. Our mouths weren’t forming words.
There was that shit-eating grin. “Come on. I’ll cook you dinner.”
Coughing my way through the moment that would have brought most women to their knees, I pushed off his chest and picked up my board.
I was not going to let him suck me in again. I was immune this time. I kept repeating the phrases in my head until I felt them steel my spine.
The house we walked to was the perfect beach house sitting on stilts, white, and a big porch that fed right into the sun’s glow hanging lower. Surfing really worked up my appetite, and my stomach pinched with hunger.
Oscar took the board from under my arm and leaned it against a small shed filled with bikes, boards, lifejackets, and jet skis. I shouldn’t be impressed anymore. I saw the bad parts of him that should cancel out things like impressed, overwhelmed, aroused...
Some of the bad was enough to make all those feelings worse. Grimm walking around this earth shirtless could attest to that—all the right kind of bad.
Escorting me into the house, I felt all the things I wanted to leave behind: impressed, overwhelmed, aroused.
The open layout plan made the house feel even bigger. He stopped at the stairs. “My room is the first one on the left. Go rinse off while I start dinner. You still like salmon, right?”
He didn’t bother waiting for my answer, when he spun around on his heel, shit-eating grin in place, heading for what I could assume would be the kitchen. None of these homes made it easy to know what room you were in. All were minimalistic and bare, nothing giving you any clues.
I took him up on the offer to rinse off, feeling now dry and crisp in an uncomfortable way. Pushing open the door, I walked into Oscar’s sleek room. Everything was medical grade white and cleaner than an operating room.
No photos.
No action figures.
No art.
No TV even.
It was single handedly the coldest room I had ever seen. My room was all neutral colors, but it still had life. Justice’s room was filled with posters and signs for fighting the good fight, looking like a tornado. Even Grimm’s room was clean and sleek, but you could tell it was lived in.
This was a different kind of bad that made the goosebumps prick on my skin with a shiver.
I twisted the shower knob inside the enclosed glass with the rain shower head as I pushed the damp material sticking to my skin down until it pooled at my feet. The warm water felt like a hug as I rubbed my hand over my skin, making sure not one speck of sand was left.
Soaking up the luxury, I was letting the water coat my face, when I heard a bang that grabbed my serenity and turned it into paranoia. It only took one dream, one sound, one set of goosebumps to make you suddenly feel unsafe.
Talking myself down from my snap judgment that everything can and will turn into a crime podcast drama, I stepped out wrapping the towel around me, and I realized even the towels were warmed.
That was no longer luxury, but spoiled.
It didn’t take long before I realized I was in the very real predicament of not having a change of clothes. For someone who liked being prepared and having plan B, C, and D just as backups, I felt really thrown. Leaning halfway out of his door into the hallway I shouted, “Can I borrow something? I don’t have a change of clothes.”
Thank god for open floor plans, because he heard me loud and clear and shouted back, “Any of the drawers have some shirts and stuff that’ll fit.”
Fit was my last concern. I just wanted to be covered by more than a towel around Oscar.
I walked back over to the only piece of furniture with drawers and a mirror. I opened the first drawer, finding boxer briefs, which were like bike shorts. I could make that work as pants if the shirt fell down far enough. The second drawer had shirts in every color, all plain with a small v indentation at the top. Pulling out a white one, I pushed my arms into the sleeves I was swimming in. It landed where it needed to so I was happy.
Brushing my hair with my fingers in the mirrored reflection, it was hard to overlook the small box sitting directly in the middle. It was simple and black, with a small latch in the front.
Curiosity got the best of me before I could talk myself out of it. I was praying it was a luxurious way to keep your condoms.
Boy, was I wrong.
There was only an instant that I hesitated before I pried the lid open slowly, still praying it was condoms. Instead, I saw Polaroids. Something so personal was shoved into a nondescript box. Not a great sign.
I could tell by the exposure, the women, the lack of capturing a good time… these photos weren’t personal in the way you were proud of. These photos were of women, half naked, sleeping… and being violated. Shuffling through the stack with a sick feeling in my stomach, I flipped to the next person and saw myself staring back at me.
I was in bed with the blankets tangled around my legs and my shirt pushed up around my boobs. I couldn’t be sure that was any different than how I normally looked while sleeping, but having proof shoved into a box without my consent changed things.
The urge to throw up everything I felt overtook me. I ran back into the bathroom, turning on the water, and trying to gracefully toss up all the bile that crept up my spine. I was hoping Oscar only heard the water when I realized I still had the photos in my hand. My crossbody was sitting on his bed. I pulled out my phone and ignored Grimm and Justice’s text to take photos of the Polaroids I spread out on his duvet.
I needed proof without setting off any alarms.
“You okay up there? Fall asleep in my bed?”
Bet you’d like that, perv.
My eyes were wide, with my heart racing at a dangerous speed and too many crime podcast possibilities running through my mind. I wasn’t a quitter, so if this was, in fact, how I was going to go out, I wasn’t making it easy.
“Coming! Just responding to texts.”
Everything was still settling in when the conclusion I was ignoring dropped onto me like bricks. I felt the bile and goosebumps creep up my spine again, making me shake.
Oscar was the reason I hadn’t been sleeping well. My body sensed him there, and now I wasn’t so convinced those were nightmares at all.
My lips went dry, cracking as I fought back tears from rolling down my cheeks. I needed to be strong, play his game, and win if I wanted to leave here unscathed.
Sending two quick texts, I typed fast as I stood up trying to keep him unsuspicious.
JUS: Seriously, you need to call and check in.
ME: I’m in Malibu and I’m okay. If I’m not home in two hours - raise hell.
Jus was plan B. My second text was plan A. I knew Grimm wasn’t an easy boss and control was something you couldn’t dangle in his face without following through.
GRIMM: I need you to pick out a mask for my date for the ball my mom hosts every year.
He hadn’t been in the office in days, making me miss even his blunt texts or odd phone calls, which would occur when he was too lazy to type out his demands, not that he had many. I didn’t have the luxury of being salty right now. He was Plan A.
ME: Sure, can you call me in an hour? One. Hour. Exactly.
GRIMM: Why does it sound like you need saving?
ME: I fight my own battles just fine. Don’t be late. Seriously.
Heading down the stairs that didn’t seem very stable, I carried my sandy clothes in my arms and my crossbody with my phone tucked inside, concealed. I walked over to the island. The smell of salmon wasn’t helping the fact that I just threw up and fo
und Oscar’s perv stash. Just repeating that in my mind felt like enough to convince my stomach to turn.
“You okay, babe? Look a little green?”
“I just feel a little nauseous. It’s so weird.”
Coming around the island, he tossed a piece of broccoli up in the air and caught it with his mouth effortlessly, like he did everything else. Even violate women. So effortlessly I barely knew myself.
His arms snaked around my waist in his clothes, which became painfully obvious only now, that I was wrapped in him. A double layer. I felt his voice in my hair, “You just gotta get your sea legs.”
Choking out a laugh, I picked up the glass of wine he must have been drinking since it was the only glass. I let it touch my lips before I bullied myself for it. I knew better than to drink or eat anything this perv gave me.
Everything was an open nerve ending, too sensitive and making me want to throw up again.
“Easy, killer. Try eating something first.” He carried two beautiful plates to the long, plain dining room table, placing one plate across from the other, ignoring the head of the table. Following behind him, I was playing along the best way I could, when all I wanted to do was knee him in the balls and run away.
Too far from home.
His home field advantage.
The possibility of him going from violating to something much worse.
I sat down. My hands were still shaking and stomach tipping over. I kept my hands in my lap, trying to adjust a mask into place enough to convince him I was fine.
Waiting for him to take the first bite, I watched carefully and tried to see whatever it was I missed. I didn’t miss the bad parts of him that refused to be faithful, but I didn’t see him being this guy either. Unfaithful and violating women were two different things.
Dinner went smoothly, as smooth as it could as my body was repulsed even being across a table from him. Almost like clockwork, my bag buzzed against the table, and I flashed him a small smile.
“Probably Jus. She’s a worry wart.”
I apologized silently in my mind for saying it out loud. She’ll forgive me later when that lie saves my ass.
Pulling out my phone, I saw Grimm in all capital letters.
Control freak.
Getting up from the table and dropping my cloth napkin on the chair, I whispered, “It’s my boss,” as if he could hear me before I even pressed the green button to pick it up. Walking over to the porch outside, where the sliding doors were already open to the sun setting. The sky was full of burnt orange and blue hues that almost had me forgetting my plan A was calling.
“Am I rescuing you?” His voice was always a kind of flat that didn’t let you know where you stood.
“I’m in Malibu...” That’s not what I wanted to tell him. I had ill intention the minute I answered the phone fresh off Grimm’s rejection.
A long pause blossomed, and I almost thought he hung up when he asked, “With?”
“Suddenly you care? Do you wanna explain your whereabouts for the past few days? I have a life, friends, and suitors interested in me, ya know.”
“I know, Abigail.” I could hear the annoyance through the phone.
“If you knew, you wouldn’t have ran away.” The confidence I built up faded into the truth. He ran away after all the walls fell down and our ugly truths were shown so clearly I had to remind him I was desired by others.
That those ugly truths weren’t all we had to offer each other.
“I’m not gonna mention what happened between us, but if you weren’t you… you wouldn’t have been able to sit on it, toots.”
He wasn’t admiring much, but it was just enough.
“I think I can handle things here. Thanks.” I was trying to put on my brave face. His half admission was giving me the fire I needed to beat Oscar at whatever game he was playing.
“You sure?”
He had no idea what was happening here; he had no way to without me telling him. Yet, his answer sounded like he knew, cared, and challenged me to handle myself.
I wasn’t a quitter.
“I’m sure.” Growing confident, I hung up. Somehow Grimm was able to straighten my spine and soothe my shaking hands in a few words, not even enough to chalk the exchange up to a conversation.
Sitting back down, I could see Oscar’s carefree expression tensing at all the edges. “Justice?”
“My boss. He just needed me to find a mask for his date to some ball.”
I was being casual when I sipped the wine again. I needed to be myself and stop panicking at everything Oscar did. That was how you ended up dead, body never found, and the killer still free to do his thing.
Faking a yawn, I needed to stroke his ego, “Thank you for today. I haven’t done anything that active in a long time. I’m so exhausted.”
Standing up from the table, he moved behind me, placing his hands on my shoulders and massaging. “Wanna crash here?”
“I have work tomorrow. It’s Sunday. I should probably be home. Lesson two?”
His hands squeezed my shoulders tightly before letting go with a laugh. “Lesson two is gonna be bigger waves, babe. You ready for that?”
No.
“Hell, yeah. I killed it today! Let me just pee quickly before we leave.”
“Down the hall.”
ABIGAIL
The ride home wasn’t as hard to pretend to be normal as I was fearing. His hand was glued to my thigh, but I didn’t fight it. I just wanted to get home in one piece.
Slightly used, not abused.
My heart was ready to rip through my chest, until I leaned against the closed door to the apartment, and I was safely inside. Jus poured from her room looking freshly napped and yawning.
“How was chilling with the enemy?”
Walking over to the island, I unlocked my phone and dropped it to the counter on the photo I snapped of his perv stash.
“Well, he’s really the enemy.”
She walked over to my phone that I pointed to for her to look at, and her eyes went wide when she picked it up to look closer.
“Holy. Fucking. Shit. What is this? Wait… is that you?!” I didn’t even need to contribute. She was animated enough as she moved through shock, confusion, and then landed on the realization he targeted me too.
“I found it in his bedroom… I’m freaking out.”
“How did he even get these photos of you?!” She finally set down the phone and took inventory of me post Oscar.
“I don’t know. I’m really freaking out. I’ve been having these nightmares, and I'm really tired, even if I sleep in. I don’t know how he got in here.”
Jus pulled me into her arms and clamped her arms around me. Her hand smoothed down my hair, and at the same exact moment, it felt okay to let the pressure of my tears release.
After the intimate embrace faded and my tears stopped pumping into my vision, she let go of me slowly. “I’ll sleep on the couch and keep an eye out. Go get some sleep. I was being nice, but you kind of look like shit…”
I wanted to laugh, but only a smile I wasn’t even sure was genuine spread across my lips. She was right. I needed sleep. Safe sleep. Uninterrupted by nightmares.
Leaving my clothes out in the kitchen, I didn’t care. I was already planning on tossing out everything, even the shoes. Nothing was salvageable but me, and that was still questionable.
Throwing on a big shirt, I crawled into bed, snatching my book off the nightstand before I settled against the headboard not planning on sleeping.
I couldn’t even if I wanted to.
Finding out your ex snuck into your room and took photos while you slept was a new kind of violation I didn’t know how to process. Bad pickup lines, grinding against me in a club, or even an innocent hand on my arm was something I could process away.
Not being aware of being violated? How do you process that when you don’t remember?
Taking a big gulp of my water before I flipped to my bookmark, I yawned, fighting off any
ideas of sleep.
I woke up with my book closed on my lap, and I wondered if I even read one page before I fell asleep last night.
Thank god no one asked me to go on stake outs.
I still felt tired, but at least there was no nightmare. Maybe life threw me a break because my real life became the real nightmare.
As I made my way into the kitchen to grab my mug, I shouted towards Jus’s room, even though I felt the odd sensation that I must have been alone. It was too quiet.
“Jus? You want a ride to work?”
Pushing her door open, I found her bed empty, with no signs of her. My panic set in again. Texting her quickly with just question marks, I waited for the reply.
Pacing the living room, I felt the anxious waves crawl up my legs as I thought the worst. Maybe Oscar knew I was acting weird; he knew I found his perv stash; and now he was looking for retribution. He didn’t know about Grimm, and he wasn’t exactly anybody to me. The only person that publicly mattered to me was Jus.
Everything was making too much sense as I spoke it into existence to no one.
Still pacing, my phone finally buzzed under my armpit with my arms folded, preparing to brace myself for the possibility of my roommate needing me to strap on some heavy boots and play badass.
JUS: Came to work early. Didn’t mean to scare you.
ME: Mild panic attack not really avoided. No green smoothie for you, and I was going to switch it up to pineapple kale today too.
Jus was not a morning person and wasn’t exactly a good liar. Call it her moral compass sitting between the vowels of her name, Justice, that drove that trait home.
She was up to something.
If I knew my best friend at all, it had something to do with last night. She was probably hunting Oscar down with gardening shears and rope by now. Pausing, I Googled his name really quick to make sure the latest stories were still how much of a womanizer he was, new movie roles, or his parents hitting some red carpet… and not how he was missing.
If anyone was going to pull that off, it would be Jus.
JUSTICE
It was way before I was scheduled to be at the black tower with no logos or signs. You were just supposed to know it was the Clave.
