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“But you’re not. You haven’t touched anything other than alcohol in what, six years?”
“Yea, but it doesn’t matter. People hear ‘drugs’ and that’s it. No context, no second chances. He’d look at me differently. And I… don’t think I could handle that.”
It would destroy me to see that light dim in his eyes when he looks at me. That glimmer he had yesterday… like I was something special to him.
“It’s too new. If I dump all this on him now, he’ll just assume I’m a mess. Especially when he already knows I got so drunk last week that I couldn’t remember getting home. I don’t want him to judge me based on a past I’ve worked so hard to get away from.”
If I was being really honest with myself, I was ignoring the voice in the back of my mind that told me I had nothing to worry about. The voice that was telling me to tell him everything, to let him know every part of me, every flaw, every crack, and trust that he’ll still look at me the same.
But I have no idea how he feels about me - if he sees me as something serious at all, or if this is just a casual fling or an easy hook-up to him, and he’s not actually interested in anything more.
But if there’s even the slightest chance, I can’t risk losing it.
Angela chews her toast slowly, staring at me. “If you’re sure.”
I nod. “I am.”
For now.
After breakfast, Angela has to go as she volunteers with the Saturday morning toddler group at her church, and I’m left on my own.
The thought of going back to the flat feels suffocating, every wall bearing the memory of his shadow, his threats echoing in my head.
I need to move, to clear my head, to breathe air that doesn’t taste of fear.
Thankful that I had worn leggings and trainers to breakfast, with Marcus’s hoodie still wrapped around me for warmth, I put in my earbuds and head in the direction of the park. My playlist shuffleson, Dua Lipa’s Training Season filling my ears, and I instantly smile. It’s the song that was playing when I first had the courage to kiss Marcus at Sapphire. The lyrics hit different now, after everything that’s happened.
The beat matches my accelerating heartbeat as I break into a jog, trying to outrun the memory of hands that once felt safe becoming something else entirely.
Cold wind rushes against my face, sharp and bracing, helping to strip away the fear and tension of the last twenty-four hours away with it.
This is where I find my peace, my centre. Where life makes sense again.
After about twenty minutes, my veins humming with endorphins and my mind feeling clearer, I come off the circular running trail and keep a steady jog as I make my way back home.
Two streets down, I notice a black car with tinted windows drive past. I can’t see who’s in it, but something about the way it slows as it passes me makes me feel uneasy.
The car stops at a red light at the junction ahead and I take a sharp right turn through an alleyway that leads to a different street.
I let out a big breath, pushing the thought from my mind.
It’s nothing. It’s fine. Plenty of black cars in the world.
Except two streets further down, the same car passes by me again, and this time, I’m sure I catch a glimpse of blonde hair sticking out from underneath a dark hood on the driver’s side.
My heart jumps into my throat, the pounding in my ears drowning out the music. I’m being followed.
It’s a one-way street so I turn around and sprint back in the other direction, running home as fast as my legs will carry me. Every musclein my body is throbbing as my building comes into view and my chest is on fire as my lungs try to gather as much air as they can.
No sign of the car.
I fly through the door and race up the stairs to the fourth floor faster than I’ve ever taken them in my life.
If I’m being followed, I’m not safe. I’ll lock the door and stay inside. That’s it. I’ll just stay in today, won’t open the door, and I’ll leave it be. If anyone shows up at my door, I’ll call the police. I’ll hide, and I’ll call the police.
Bolting the door behind me, I quickly tap Angela’s name in my phone, praying for her to pick up.
Fuck.Voicemail.