Waking up to the sound of glass violently shattering is not how I thought my day would start.
I’m standing outside, waiting for the cops to show up, when a pair of headlights crest the hill in front of my townhouse, cutting through the dark morning. My hands tremble, and despite the cool temperature, I know it has everything to do with the adrenaline racing in my veins.
The car slows, my pulse spiking as it seems about to stop completely. But then, as quickly as it appeared, it picks up again and turns onto the main road. Just a passerby, probably on their way to work.
Tapping the screen of my phone, I check the time.Again. Where the hell are the cops? They should’ve been here by now. I called911over ten minutes ago.
Ten very long minutes ago.
Feels like an eternity.
When I realized the source of what jolted me awake, I ran outside—a stupid move on my part. By the time I reached my car, whoever had decided to take a beating to it was long gone.
Glancing around, my eyes search for something out of place. Someone who might be watching me. But there’s nothing—no one.
I walk up to my car, inspecting the damage.
Every window is gone, reduced to shards scattered everywhere, sparkling like glitter over the asphalt. The doors are dented and the hood is caved in, as if someone took a bat to it.
A breeze sweeps past me, causing goosebumps to prickle my skin. It’s eerily quiet, only adding to the knot of anxiety in my chest. Every sound—branches creaking, leaves rustling—feels amplified. The desire to jump out of my skin is incessant. My car is a wreck, and now my nerves are too.
Wrapping my arms tightly around myself, I try to stop the overwhelming feeling of violation from consuming me. It’s just a car. No one was hurt, but that doesn’t stop the creeping sense of vulnerability. My sense of security is as broken as the glass surrounding me.
I stare at my phone, my thumb hovering over Dominic’s contact.
It’s a bad idea.
He’s probably asleep.
But I need someone to be here now.
And for reasons I’m too overwhelmed to question, he’s the only person I want to call.
I press the call button before I lose the nerve.
The phone rings three times before a groggy voice answers, “Ellie?” His tone carries a hint of disbelief, as if he never expected to hear from me, let alone at this hour. I don’t respond immediately—words are hard to find when my brain feelsscrambled.
He clears his throat. “What’s wrong?” His voice turns serious, a stark contrast to hisgrogginess a moment ago.
Hearing his instant concern creates a burning ache through my chest.
“Sorry for waking you up,” I crack.
I was aiming for an air of detachment, maybe even professionalism. Instead, his voice is all it takes for tears to blur my vision. I blink them back, causing a painful pressure to build.
“What’s going on? Talk to me.”
Either he detected my veiled panic, or he’s smart enough to know I’d never call him unless I absolutely had to.
“My car…someone smashed in the windows. I?—”
“What?!” The sound of rustling blankets and his sharp intake of breath fills the line. “Are you okay? Where are you?”
“I’m fine. I’m home, waiting for the police, but they’re taking forever. I just…I didn’t know who else to call.”
“I’m on my way,” he declares, already sounding fully awake. “Stay put. Lock your door if you’re not already inside.”
“I’m outside,” I admit, weakly.
