PROLOGUE
TWO
Mindy
It takes everything in me to keep from rolling my eyes at my date, Clark, as he makes a huge production of moving his napkin before he stands and says, “I’ll be right back. The restroom is calling me.”
Instead, I sip the mocktail that the waitress brought me and wonder if I can send Jolie a 911 message so she calls and gets me out of this mess. This date has become a disastrous failure. I met Clark at a local coffee shop where I sometimes go to work so I have a change of scenery. He pestered me endlessly for months, asking for ‘just one date’ and after repeated talks with Jolie, I finally gave in and accepted. He seems harmless; works as a finance officer for a local company, but he’s reallynotmy type. Still, I’m here and I decide I’ll make the best of the situation, even if I prefer to be home binge-watching one of my shows.
Heat rolls through me, as though I’m having a hot flash and I can feel the sweat beading on my forehead.Strange, I’m far too young for those, I think, as I grab my napkin and lightly blotthe moisture that’s pebbled on my flesh away. As the dizzying sensation grows worse, it dawns on me that maybe Clark isn’t the gentleman he’s portrayed himself as being all those times I saw him at the coffee shop. I reach for my phone but can’t make my fingers work right to text Jolie.
Dammit, I need her right now.My mind whirls as I try to go through all the possibilities of what’s happening with me. Food poisoning? No, my stomach doesn’t feel like it’s about to revolt even though there’s a slight bit of nausea. Could he have drugged me?
Years ago, when Jolie and I were talking about going out on dates and how unsafe it sometimes is for women, we came up with a few things we would do whenever we started dating someone new. We wouldn’t drink alcohol at all so we could stay in control of all our faculties, and we’d drive ourselves to wherever we were going so we could leave if things didn’t feel right.
Clark didn’t give off any of the normal creepazoid vibes though, so maybe I’m wrong and itisfood poisoning. Setting my drink aside, I go to stand only to feel as though the ground is moving and shifting beneath my feet. The only time I’ve ever been this dizzy was when I was about ten and had double ear infections, which gave me vertigo. I didn't like it then and I’m definitely not a fan of it now as I reach to get my purse.
“Oh, honey, you must’ve drank too much. Again.” Clark’s voice, which I was kind of on the fence about, sounds almost smarmy right now and if I could make my arms work properly, I’d grab my stun gun and zap his ass. “Here, let’s get you home.”
As he helps me out to my car, situating me in the passenger seat after he rustles through my purse and gets my key fob out, I mumble, “What’s wrong with me?”
At this point, my whole body feels like it’s incapable of working at all. I want Jolie, I want my big brother, Brock. Idon’twant Clark, who is now looming over me, a sneer on his face as he says, “You thought you were too good for me, bitch, but tonight, you’re gonna pay.”
Darkness descends as he starts my car after making sure we’re both buckled. My last thought is,Jolie, help me!
“Mindy, hon, come on, you gotta help me here,” a deep voice says.
I struggle to wake up, my mind and body feeling as though I’ve been swimming in molasses. “Why?” I ask. I’m so groggy but I don’t remember drinking, so I don’t understand how that’s possible.
“Because I can’t take you to the hospital naked,” the voice replies.
Thathas my eyes popping open, gritty and swollen as I look up to see my neighbor, Cruz something or other, staring down at me. “There you are,” he murmurs. “Okay, I tossed a blanket over you and I’m going to help you stand, alright? I need you to put some clothes on, but you can’t shower or brush your teeth, sweetheart.”
Why can’t I take a shower? Or do something to rid this horrible taste in my mouth? I don’t understand but as he helps me standup on shaky legs, I see the evidence of what looks like a party in my living room. Only… I don’t remember anything after Clark got me into my car.
“What happened?” I ask as he guides me toward my bedroom. “Please, Cruz, you have to tell me.”
I watch him take several deep breaths and brace myself. “I came home from work and saw all your lights on and heard loud music coming from your place.” He takes another deep breath. “Mindy, I know that’s not typically your style. Your house is usually quiet when I get home, just the outside light on, which I appreciate by the way since I always forget to turn mine on.” I don’t say anything as he shakes his head before he continues, “When I got to the porch, your door opened, there was some guy standing there. He looked over his shoulder and said something like, ‘Now the party can really start, Mindy!’ or some shit but when I saw you sprawled out on the floor, I knew something wasn’t right. Told him I was about to fuck his world up if he didn’t get out of your house immediately.”
“Did… did you hit him?” I question, hoping that Clark’s sporting the biggest black eye the world has ever seen.
He rubs his hand across his neck and shakes his head. “No, I didn’t, but it wasn’t because I didn’t want to, that’s for damn sure. Something you probably don’t know is I’m out on parole and I didn’t want him to try and get me for assault. It only takes one instance to be reported that’d have me back inside doing the entirety of my sentence.”
My mind whirls; parole means he was in prison for something, right? I mean, he’s always been nice when I’ve seen him, he cuts my grass, and makes sure the walkway is clear afterward, so I don’t slip on the clippings. Of course, there are those who goto prison who aren’t guilty. I’ve watched the shows and listened to the podcasts. If everyone was guilty, they wouldn’t have the Innocence Project, right? Pushing those thoughts away for another time, I say, “Thank you for getting him out of my house.”
Because after what undoubtedly happened, my safe place, my sanctuary, will never feel like my home again, not that I tell Cruz that part. He interrupts my inner monologue and says, “I’ll tell you what else I know once you come back out dressed. Remember, no shower and don’t brush your teeth or hair.”
“Why?” I persist, feeling increasingly yucky, as though I need to tear my skin from my body.
“Because the hospital is going to need to do a forensic exam on you, Mindy,” he murmurs, swiping at the tear that falls down my cheek. “I’m trying to make sure you preserve as much of whatever DNA that fucker left behind so they can nail his ass to the wall.”
“Oh.” My voice is small as I close the bedroom door then walk to my dresser. Clean clothes are neatly stacked on top since I just did laundry, so I grab a sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants, as well as clean underwear, then put it all on. I forego the bra because looking down, I see that my breasts are covered with bite marks, bruises, and burns. While the fabric against my skin is soft, it still hurts as the material grazes against my torso. Slipping on a pair of flip flops, I grab a hair clip and toss the disaster that’s currently my hair up into an extremely messy bun, then head back into the living room.
I notice that Cruz has a large clear bag with my clothes from last night inside of it. “What’s that for?” I question.
“Again, trying to preserve stuff. In case you’re wondering, my sister is a SANE nurse at the hospital she works at, and I called her to ask what I should do since you were passed out. She said to preserve everything I could, like your clothes and whatnot, make sure you didn’t shower, brush your hair, or your teeth, and collect anything else I thought could be important.”
It finally hits me that despite all my precautions. My rules for dating a new person. My safety plans I have in place with Jolie.
