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He doesn't try to stop me, and that's all the confirmation I need. I turn on my heel, feeling lighter than I have in years.
***
The following day, as I walk my usual route to Starbucks for my morning shift, the city wakes up around me. The sun peeks between the high rises. It’s a beautiful, glorious morning. My mind drifts to him—Mr. Mystery Man, whose name I don’t know and perhaps want to know, just a little.
He’s different, I think, recalling the intensity of his gaze and the firmness of his touch. He knew exactly what he was doing, guiding me with an expert hand while still making me feel... cared for. Attentive at one moment, fiercely dominant the next. He was a contradiction wrapped in a tailored suit.
He’s also an enigma. A part of me itches to peel away the layers, to uncover the man behind the blindfold with his commanding presence. But I squash that curiosity flat. Nameslead to stories, and stories lead to connections. Connections are something I can't afford, not when my world is finally tipping toward giving me hope.
He gave me an escape, not a cage. I won't forget that. So I focus on the fresh start ahead, the bills that will be paid, and the brother who'll see his sister standing a little taller.
"Robin!" a coworker calls out, snapping me back to reality as I reach Starbucks's sliding doors. I flash a smile, ready to face the day. And tonight, I will finally be free.
***
Later that night, the money weighs heavy in my pocket as I stand outside Uncle Craig's bedroom door. My hand hovers before knocking, the thumping of my heart loud against the silence of the hallway.
Every time I have to speak to the man, I get anxious. The door swings open, his face all sharp angles and suspicion.
"Got your cash," I say, mustering a confidence that already feels like it's fraying at the edges. His eyes narrow, but I hold out the envelope stuffed with bills.
"Good girl." He snatches the envelope and counts the money with greedy fingers. "How’d you get it?”
“Asked for a loan from a friend at work,” I lie, not wanting him to have something to hold over me. I don’t tell him about the extra five grand I have stashed away.
“Smart,” he says. “You’ll have to pay this friend back someday, you know?”
“I know.”
“Hate to burst your bubble,” he winks. “But there's more. You also owe rent for Adam now. Same cost as yours."
I blink, and my voice cracks, "Rent? But he's just a kid."
"Living under my roof, eating my food. Nothing's free, Robin," Uncle Craig snarls. “You’re an adult. You take care of your brother. Why the hell should I?”
He’s your nephew, you pathetic excuse of a man, I scream in my head.
"Fine," I spit out, anger heating my blood. "I'll figure it out."
For now, I have the money stashed away to cover this month’s rent for Adam. But I need to make sure my uncle never finds the stash and just apply for another job to cover my lost earnings from McDonald’s. Not only would I then be able to pay Adam’s rent, but I’d also be able to save up enough for us to get out of here.
Someday, when I have enough money to cover it all—the utilities, the furniture, the school supplies—I’ll take Adam and move the hell out of here.
That night, I can't sleep, thinking of what freedom would one day feel like. The room feels too small, the air too thick. Adam's soft breathing is the only sound in the darkness. I roll over, restless, when it finally hits me—a lightning bolt of panic that sears through my veins.
No condom. Not a single thought for protection in the heat of the moment.
I sit up, heart pounding out an SOS. My head spins with the what-ifs, each more terrifying than the last. What if I'm... No. I can't even think of it, not when every part of my life hangs by a thread, and that thread's fraying fast.
Panic claws at my throat, and I throw off the covers, pacing the tiny space between our beds. This can't be happening. Not now. Not with everything else crumbling around me.
"Robin?" Adam's small voice pierces the dark. "You okay?"
"Yeah, buddy," I lie, forcing a calm I don't feel. "Just a bad dream."
He murmurs something sleep-laden and rolls over. But for me, sleep evades me all night, leaving me alone with the gnawing fear of what one reckless night might cost.
***
