by Gabriel Love
Furious, I drop onto my couch and I rapid fire back a message, Leave me alone, Phillip! You’re a fucking creepy asshole and I hate you!
As soon as I hit send, I regret it. Anger won’t help things. If anything, it’ll make it worse. If I make him mad, he might get dangerous.
Minutes pass and feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
When my phone finally lights up again, the text sends a chill down my spine. I wish you hadn’t said that.
Instantly I dial nine one one.
“What’s your emergency?” A lady asks and I respond in a small, trembling voice.
“Uh, hi, my ex boyfriend sent me a threatening text.”
There’s a pause. “What kind of threat?”
“Well, not a threat, he just said something that feels threatening.” I feel stupid and I’m sure it bleeds through in my voice, but the woman responds patiently.
“What did he say?”
“I wish you hadn’t said that.” Fuck, it sounds stupid when I say it out loud. “But it was in response to me telling him I hate him and that he’s a creepy asshole.”
“Are you in immediate danger?” she asks.
“I don’t know,” I say, feeling completely miserable. Tears sting in my eyes and I pull my legs up to my chest and wrap an arm around them. In my ear the kind woman responds,
“Okay, I’ll put you through to an officer.”
I wait on hold for a few minutes then hang up. It’s not enough. The cops can’t do anything about my feelings. It’s not like he’s here, holding a knife to my throat.
Despite my internal reassurances that he won’t do anything stupid, sleep doesn’t come easy.
The little sleep I get is broken, disjointed, filled with nightmares and terror. By the time my alarm goes off, I’m a wreck and want nothing more than a hot shower. I oblige the craving and climb into the glass box and start the water.
Within minutes the whole room is obscured by billowing clouds of steam and I’m scrubbing myself like I can clean the whole situation off with some lavender oatmeal soap. No such luck, of course, and I sigh and get out.
Winding a towel around myself I step into my bedroom. A tiny noise draws my attention and I peek out into the living room. Sitting on the couch facing me with the coldest, hardest expression I’ve ever seen is Philip.
“How did you get in?” My voice is an embarrassing whimper that’s equal parts terror and surprise.
“Mrs. Brown was kind enough to let me in with her spare key after I told her I forgot to bring mine.” His chilling smile sends my heart into overdrive.
I never gave him a key.
Every muscle in my body tenses and I begin trembling violently in terror. As much as I hate the reaction, I trust the sensation that I’m in danger. I slam my bedroom door and lock it. In the flash before it closed I caught sight of him bolting to his feet to charge me.
The whole door rattles as the thud of his weight crashing into it leaves me backing away in fear waiting for a demon to blast through. Only a second passes before I react. I race into the bathroom and lock it. It’s not enough, though.
I open the bathroom window and look down. Before I can stop myself, I slip out onto the narrow ledge as I hear the bedroom door give under the force of his shoulder.
“You can’t hide from love, Ashes!” he shouts.
Love and abuse are mutually exclusive.
Both can not be true.
I look down and instantly wish I hadn’t. Ten stories below is the quiet street beckoning me as an escape. I’m sure it’s a lesser horror than whatever Philip has planned for me.
Even as the thought crosses my mind, I find I’m just shy of giving up like that. I’m on a ledge that’s only about four inches wide. But all is not lost, not hopeless. This too shall pass. On tiptoe I inch sideways, talking gently to myself.
“Take your time. Don’t look down. It’s only a few feet to the next window. Baby steps.” I force my mind from Philip and focus on the dangerous task at hand. I feel my calves begin to ache and protest my precarious perch on pointed toes. The wind pushes against me as if telling me to go back and face my fate, but I struggle forward, tiny step after tiny step.
I reach out and touch the window sill of the next building.
Almost there. Just a little bit farther...
Two more steps and I stop.
The only thing between me and safety is a closed window. I brace myself and knock loudly, frantically, and glance over at my window as I hear the bathroom door give with a loud crash. I hear him curse and call my name in a sing song that’s the stuff of nightmares.
I know he’s trying to sound sweet, but much like the card and the roses quote, it falls somewhere on the wrong side of creepy. When his head peeks out the window, I see his murderous expression as he sees me out of reach.
“Come back, now,” He demands with a snarl.
In response I begin slapping the closed window, terror blinding me to the pain and speeding up my every motion. Suddenly the window is opened and I’m caught by the arm by Mr. Neil, whose shock is obvious.
He helps me in and I babble about how my boyfriend is trying to kill me. In the doorway I see his two kids and he quickly tells them to go watch cartoons. They shout in joy and scramble off as he turns to me.
“I’ll call the cops and grab you some of Darren’s clothes.” He gives me a reassuring smile and I nod.
He returns in a few minutes with a tee shirt and some black pajama bottoms. “Darren is calling the cops. We thought you could use something soft,” he says, flashing me a grin and I nod.
“Thank you. I’m lucky Darren’s my size.”
Andy’s grin widens. “Not exactly, he just thinks he is.” I hear the teasing note to his voice and feel a stab of jealousy. These guys have something real. Something comfortable. There is so much obvious love, acceptance, and warmth I wish I could find something like it.
Andy leaves me to change and I dress quickly. When I step into the living room I see Andy at the door talking to someone. Darren keeps tossing worried looks my direction and I shiver.
To my absolute horror Andy steps aside and Philip steps in.
Darren’s expression is filled with fear and shame and Andy’s eyes beg me for forgiveness. “He knows where Kim and Riley go to school,” He says in a tight tone and I get it. I’d protect my family too. As much as I’d like to think otherwise, I know we’re primarily concerned for those closest to us.
Philip wastes no time. With a swinging stride and a gut-twisting grin that’s so sickeningly certain of his victory, he moves toward me and grabs my arm just above the elbow. He drags me toward the door and I follow, needing to get out of the room.
Philip must feel confident that I’m giving up because his grip loosens just a tiny bit. As the guys close their door behind us I wrench away from his unkind grasp and race toward the emergency exit. Philip curses and I hear his charging footfalls thundering behind me.
I feel his fingers slip through my hair and will myself to run faster.
My breaths come in quick panting gasps. Every thud of my heart aches. Still, I race for freedom.
The door before me leads to the stairs and I blast through it and sprint down the steps. I swear I feel his breath on my neck and feel his hands inches from closing on me every step of the way.
And I realize I can’t escape him.
I should have jumped.
But I’m not giving up.
Not yet.
My lungs burn and my side begins to throb with stabbing pain, but I can’t stop now. Flight after flight flies by and I almost feel like I’ve gained a few seconds on him.
Maybe it’s because I’d rather fall headlong down the steps and break my neck rather than be caught and face whatever torment he has in mind for me.
Maybe it’s because I’m smaller than he is and less bulk and width means I’m more aerodynamic and use less energy to propel myself than he does.
Maybe it’s the abundan
t adrenaline flowing freely through my blood.
Maybe it’s because I know I can’t get free and I’m willing to do anything, risk anything, to at least make him work for it; I’ll go out fighting every second of the way.
I grab the lobby door and wrench it open as his fingers capture a handful of my hair. I let out a scream of sheer terror the same second his hand clamps on my mouth.
All that comes out is a muffled sound like a dying animal. He jerks me back and I feel him press tight to my body. I struggle, bite at his hand, and stomp on his toes. With a wide elbow I catch him in the ribs and he grunts.
“Enough, Ashes.” His snarl is savage and suddenly I’m sure I’m inches from death.
I stop struggling and tears begin flowing down my cheeks. As if he feels my surrender, he loosens his grip a tiny bit.
I stare at the door.
At freedom.
A few feet away, but the distance might as well be lightyears.
“Don’t scream, understand?” He says harshly and I nod my head, keeping totally still. When his hand leaves my mouth I begin to beg.
“Please don’t hurt me.” My whisper is broken and he spins me to face him. I look up into his eyes. He reaches out to touch my cheek and it takes every ounce of strength I have not to flinch. He stares me dead in the eyes and says,
“I won’t, as long as you don’t give me a reason. I love you, Ashes. I always have.” He leans in and presses his lips to mine. I respond eagerly and he pulls back, his eyes narrowing.
“You’re faking it.”
I shake my head in violent denial, terror crashing over me in nauseating waves. He grabs me again and I melt into him. With a soft curse, he turns me and holds me under the arms as my body sags. Is he planning to drag me somewhere? Somehow not knowing what‘s next makes it that much more terrifying. I can’t steel myself against the unknown.
“On your feet,” He grunts.
I oblige and straighten my spine quickly.
“Philip,” I whisper.
I feel him lower his head and place his lips on the back of my head. “Yes?” He says into my hair, inhaling my scent deeply.
I lean my head forward and smash it back as hard as I can. Something crunches and I bolt for the door while he’s blinded. When I glance back at him he’s clutching his nose as blood streams from between his fingers.
With a stab of satisfaction I race to the front desk. The receptionist looks up at me with a smile before her expression shifts to shock at my panic. I speak as quickly as I can. “I need he-”
Philip’s voice shouts over me, “Help! That woman attacked me!”
She stands up. “Oh, my god,” She exclaims, rushing around the counter to his side. “Your nose!” Her voice takes on a hysterical edge and I rush my words so much they slur together.
“No, he attacked me!” I silently beg her to believe me, but she eyes me up and down and as if I can see myself through her eyes I know what she sees. No obvious wounds. No obvious signs of an attack to me. Her glance at him is telling; she believes him. How could she not? He’s got a bloodied nose and I’m standing here looking just fine.
“I’ll call the cops,” she says but he grabs her arm. I can feel the charm rolling off him as he says,
“Don’t. I love her. I don’t want to report her.” He stares at her and she stares back, her lips parting as if she’s tripping over what to say. But she merely nods and glares at me on the way back to her seat. “I’ll get you an ambulance, hon.” She says in a honeyed tone that’s just for him.
“I’m okay, thanks,” he says, his eyes locked on me like he can imprison me with that stare. Deep within it is a silent threat I understand without words. He’s got a witness that believes him. If I give him a reason to, he’ll press charges. Then it’s his word and hers against mine.
As much as I’d like to think I’d be believed, I’m not naive enough to be sure I’d win out against his charm and his loyal witness. I glance back at the receptionist who’s glaring me down while talking quietly into the phone.
“The EMTs will be here in a minute,” she says and his attention snaps to her. I know he wants to protest, but isn’t sure how to without raising suspicion.
“I don’t need them,” he says, flashing a winning grin around the hand he’s using to pinch his nose closed with.
She shakes her head. “Your nose is crooked; I think it’s broken. Plus it’s policy. I could get fired.”
“I’m not going to sue,” he says, turning on the charm full force, but thankfully she’s set on the matter. She shakes her head in a gentle yet negative manner, like she’s sorry but determined.
“Sorry, it’s out of my hands. I still think you should press charges,” she says, curling her lip at me like I’m something she’ll have to scrape off her pretty shoes.
I turn and walk to the elevator, my mind racing. I glance over my shoulder and see Philip’s still watching me. I shiver and hit the button, counting my lucky stars that she’s not letting him out of medical help.
But what do I do now? If I call the cops he’ll press charges and there’s evidence and a witness that’ll back him up. What will back me up? Andy and Darren can’t without risking their kids. I wouldn’t expect them to. But who else is there?
Just me.
I’m in this alone.
My eyes sting and I struggle to contain the absolute despair filling me. In the elevator I find myself in a daze and my heart feels like it’s rattling in my chest without much productivity. The world tilts on an axis and spins slowly.
My stomach twists and saliva floods my mouth. The elevator door opens and I rush to my apartment in time to throw up in the kitchen sink. The door slams behind me and I stare down at the pale green bile and white froth, trembling and unsure what to do next.
A calm descends on me like thick fog and I straighten up. I lock my front door. I breeze past my shattered bedroom door while glazing over it. I have to see this as someone else’s life. Not mine. It’s not me who’s in danger. It’s this nameless, emotionless husk of a persona takes control and holds tightly.
Through the bedroom I walk toward the bathroom again, blind to the remnants of the wood hanging crazily on hinges and wooden splinters scattered on the floor.
Quickly, I brush my teeth while staring blankly at myself in the mirror. Within minutes I’ve got a bag packed and my phone in hand.
I find Parker’s number and text, hardly aware of my actions.
We need to talk.
Minutes later, he calls. “What is it?” He sounds considerably warmer than he did last time we spoke.
“I need a favor.” I need a safe place to hide from a nightmare. A place no one would ever think to look for me. Or for anyone, really. A place someone can fade from sight, thought, and mind. A place that’s as dangerous as it is safe.
Parker eyes me over the steaming hole in the lid of the paper cup of terrible coffee. “You’re crazy, you know that, right?”
He’s right. “It’s actually perfectly logical.” I sip my bitter coffee, scrutinizing every overt reaction that flashes across his face and the more minute thoughts ticking behind his eyes. His eyebrows rise, but I’m far more interested in the way I can see his mind going; how he can use the situation for personal gain.
“That’s the problem. What you’re asking me - in a tone that’s more like you’re relaying a shopping list - makes perfect sense if you strip away all but the logic.” He studies me and I know he’s worried I’ve lost it.
Maybe I have.
Then again, I’ve never felt more sure of anything in my life.
He starts to speak, but his words come in bursts, like he’s not sure how to tell me what he’s trying to say. “Are you sure you’re... okay? I mean, Andrea-”
“Don’t talk about her.” My sharp words stop him instantly. He nods his head and drinks his coffee before staring at the paper cup like it’s a magical messenger with all the answers written in ink that only he can see.
“Loo
k, you’d really be helping me out and it’s a chance for me to raise awareness and potentially get you more funding.” Might as well go for the balls. At the word ‘funding’ his whole attitude perks right up as I expected.
Personal gain is a powerful draw.
With anyone.
Want to win an argument?
Figure out what the other person craves more than anything and you’ve got the golden ticket.
“I think I can clear it.” He still sounds hesitant.
Well, I can’t have him unsure. “Besides,” I say, knowing I can seal the deal, “If I’m seeing Bannish an hour a day I bet I can crack him.” The very real possibility of a confession is a lure that I know Parker’s pride can’t deny.
Parker is putty in my hands at the potential promise of an ago boost and money.
“You’ve got a deal. Give me a week to clear paperwork.” He seems satisfied, but I shake my head at him.
“Today.”
He gapes at me and I almost smile at catching him so off guard. “Today? That’s insane! What’s your hurry?” He suddenly seems suspicious.
That just won’t do. The last thing I need to for him to not trust me, especially with the magnitude of the favor I’m asking for.
So I opt for a safe response. “The sooner I finish my thesis the sooner I can party.” I give him a coy smile that he can interpret as an invitation.
I don’t do this flippantly. There’s some blazing shame igniting my veins at manipulating him like this, but it’s to save my life and I can’t very well tell him the truth without risking a whole different kind of death - the death of my dreams, plans, and career.
Besides, if I’m being entirely honest, I’m oddly drawn to Bannish. My sister found shelter from the storms of life with him. There’s something magnetic about him that seems to seduce troubled ladies. And troubled is a light term for the hell I’m facing.
But good will come of all this; I’ll hear the truth from Bannish himself. I have zero doubts that I’ll wring the truth out of him. He’ll admit that he betrayed Andrea and he’s not the savior she thought he was. He’s the demon in sheep’s clothing I knew him to be even in the beginning.
