The apartment doesn’t feel like mine anymore.
I raise my head from my knees and take in my surroundings.
The torn letters are scattered across the floor like ghosts, fragments of my handwriting staring back at me in looping ink.
My pulse pounds in my ears. I ache everywhere, my head a little foggy, but my body moves before my brain catches up, the adrenaline pushing me to move.
Standing, I move as fast as I can and go to our bedroom, grabbing my half-packed suitcase.
My hands are shaking so badly that I can barely holdonto anything. My vision tunnels, my breathing is shallow and rapid, and my head hurts so fucking bad, but I can’t stop. If I stay here, I’m as good as dead.
I whisper to myself,move, Layla, move. I know you’re hurting, baby, but we have to leave NOW.
Yanking open my nightstand, I stuff my wallet into my tote. I find my phone charger and a small velvet pouch holding my grandmother’s ring. My hands hover over it for a second before I tuck it into my pocket.
I slip my feet into my sneakers without untying them. The soles crunch over glass as I make my way to the front door and grab my car keys off the counter.
Turning back to look at the apartment I earned on my own, I feel a sense of loss, but I shake my head. This is going to be a new beginning, and if I stay here, I know I won’t make it out alive.
My reflection appears in the mirror—puffy eyes, red cheeks, mascara smudged halfway down my face, faint bruises beginning to form around my neck and eye.
I look hollowed out.
Still, I turn the handle. Still, I go.
The hallway outside feels endless as my footsteps echo loudly, dragging whatever I can carry to get the fuck out of here.
The elevator chimes, and I flinch.
By the time I reach the parking garage, the tears I’ve been holding back start to fall.
My car sits beneath the dim yellow lights, dust settling on the hood because I haven’t driven anywhere important in months. My hands shake so badly that I drop my keys once, twice, before I finally manage to unlock the door.
The stench of my old perfume and air freshener hits meas I slide into the driver’s seat and shut the door, sealing myself in with the sound of my heartbeat.
I fucking break.
The sobs burst out of me before I can control them. My whole body trembles as my breath comes in quick, uneven gasps, blurring my vision.
It’s everything all at once—fear, guilt, grief, exhaustion. The years of pretending, the months of tiptoeing around his temper, and the ache of losing Reed again and again in silence.
My fingers dig into the steering wheel as another sob escapes, and I fold forward until my forehead presses against it.
The horn blares, and I choke out something between a laugh and a scream.
As my tears finally start to slow, I lift my head, wiping my face with the sleeve of my hoodie.
My reflection in the rearview mirror looks like a stranger, but I made it out.
I take out my phone, my fingers shaking as I open my airline app.
The confirmation for tomorrow’s flight stares at me.
LAX to Nashville, 6:00 A.M.
Tomorrow feels too far away.
I whisper to myself. “I can’t stay here another night.”
