I just got free. And now I have to live like prey again.
"I'll file for a protective order tomorrow morning," Marsha said, though something heavy settled into her expression. "First thing. Emergency hearing if I can get one."
"Will it work?" The question came out smaller than I intended.
Marsha hesitated. That pause told me everything.
"It might," she said carefully. "But Liv—protective orders are only as good as the people willing to enforce them. And your father—" She stopped. Started again. "He's never respected boundaries before."
He won't start now.
The unspoken truth hung between us like smoke.
Dread pooled in my stomach, cold and heavy. I forced myself to breathe through it—slow, measured breaths that didn't quite reach deep enough to calm the trembling working its way up from my core.
Be strong. You've survived worse. You can do this.
But my hands shook when I shoved them into my pockets. My jaw ached from clenching too hard. The numbness I'd wrapped around myself started cracking at the edges, letting fear leak through in thin, vicious streams.
"You're not alone in this." Marsha stepped closer, voice gentler now. "I know it feels like you are, but you're not. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."
I wanted to believe her. Wanted to let those words settle into the hollow spaces inside me and fill them with something warm and solid.
But belief felt dangerous. Hope felt worse.
"Thank you." I managed to meet her eyes. "For coming. For telling me."
"Of course, sweetheart." Marsha pulled me into another hug—tighter this time, fierce and protective. "We'll figure this out."
I clung to her for one second too long. Let myself be fourteen again, terrified and broken, held together only by this woman's stubborn refusal to let me disappear.
Then I let go.
Marsha squeezed my shoulder once more before heading toward the door. She paused on the threshold, looking back with worry etched into every line of her face.
"Lock this behind me. And remember—if anything feels wrong, you call me."
"I will."
The door clicked shut.
I turned the deadbolt. Then the chain. Then checked both again even though my hands had done it right the first time.
The apartment felt smaller suddenly. Walls pressing closer. Shadows deepening in corners that had seemed safe five minutes ago.
My legs gave out.
I slid down with my back pressed against the door, knees pulled to my chest, breathing too fast and too shallow.
I thought I'd finally escaped him.
The truth crashed over me in waves—relentless, suffocating, impossible to outrun.
Monsters didn't stay gone. They circled back.
And if my father was out, it was only a matter of time before he found me.
Chapter 8
