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Then it would be a miracle if she’s eaten a solid meal in the past two years since she met that piece of trash. “Is there food in the kitchen? I could fix you something.”
“I’m not hungry.” She curls up at the opposite end of the couch, her knees pulled up to her chest. “I had to talk to somebody, and you’re the only person I have.”
The truth of that statement hits me right in the chest, softening me. It’s not that I’m mad at her or annoyed or anything like that. It’s just that two solid years of deep concern, combined with the twenty that came before them, have left me frustrated. I love her, she’s the other half of me, which is why I hate seeing her fall apart. It’s what makes me a little short-tempered, a little sharp.
Which is why I scoot closer to her, reaching out and placing a hand on her knee. “You know I’m always here for you. I’m sorry if I sound judgmental. But it’s been two months, Dee. I was worried sick. Where have you been? You’ve always managed to at least send me a text.”
“I know.” She runs the side of her hand under her nose, then brushes the heel of the other hand under her eyes. “I was at his place. I guess I’ve been too ashamed to reach out. Because I know what you think, and I know you’re right. Deep down inside, I always knew.”
I wish I could say that makes me feel good. “So this is it? You’re not going back to him?”
“I couldn’t, not ever.” She barks out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “Not after what he did this time.” When she lifts her arms to pull her hair up, using the scrunchy from her wrist, her baggy sleeves fall back to reveal a series of bruises running along both forearms. I grit my teeth at the sight of them.
Considering what I know he’s already done, I shudder to think that it could’ve gotten worse.
“He stole my money. Everything I had set aside from back when I was escorting.”
My jaw drops. “How much money are we talking about?”
“There was over a hundred-fifty thousand in a savings account. It’s empty now. He’s the only living person who could’ve withdrawn that money.”
“That motherfucker.” Tears spring to my eyes, hot and bitter. I would kill him right now if he was in front of me, consequences be damned. “How did he get access?”
“I honestly don’t know. He must’ve done it over time, taking a chunk here and there, or else the bank would’ve alerted me.” She sighs, trembling, looking down at the hands she’s tucked inside her sleeves. “I’ve always known he liked to gamble, especially sports betting. I guess he ran out of his own money, and all of his credit cards got shut down. He doesn’t know I knew about that, but I went through the trash in his home office one day and found all the notices.”
He truly is the biggest loser I’ve ever met. That’s saying something, considering the people our parents used to hang around with. “So he decided to use your money, instead.”
“That was my security. I always told myself I had that to fall back on. And it’s what I’ve used to pay the fees here.” She starts shaking, her voice cracking. “What am I supposed to do now? I don’t have any money. I don’t have a job. How am I supposed to live?”
I slide over to her, wrapping her up in a hug and stroking her hair. Hair that needs to be washed. She really has stopped taking care of herself. “You’re going to be just fine. We’re going to get through this together, you and me.”
“I’ve put you through so much already.”
“You know that doesn’t matter.”
“But it does. You keep having to clean up for me.” She sits up a little, and I reach for the tissue box and place it next to her so she can stop using her hands. “All these years. You never thought about yourself. Only about me. I can’t ask you to do that again.”
“Well, I’m not about to leave you hanging. That’s one thing I would never do.” Meanwhile, my thoughts are racing. I guess I could have her stay with me for as long as she needs to—the apartment isn’t big, but there’s a comfortable couch. We could take turns on it, with the other one taking my twin bed. I’m sure she could find a job somewhere, doing something. Once she starts taking care of herself again, eating and exercising the way she needs to, she’ll look and feel a lot healthier. A lot more confident.
Until then, I have a little bit of money in the bank. Enough to cover extra food, at least. Maybe she could sell some of her things before she loses the apartment.
All of that can wait for now. I pull her to her feet, which doesn’t take much effort with her being so thin. “Go take a hot shower. I’ll run down the street and grab something to eat. You need to at least try. What about Chinese? I remember loving the food at the place on the corner.”
The flicker of light behind her eyes gives me hope. “I haven’t had that in so long.”
“Then that’s what we’re eating for dinner. Now go. Clean yourself up. Wash him off you.” Even if there’s no way to wash off a bruise. But that will fade in time, just like I hope the thought of Greg fades.
It won’t fade for me, though. I will never stop hating him. I will never stop wanting him dead for everything he’s done to her. It wasn’t enough to break her spirit, to cut her off from everyone who cares about her. It wasn’t enough to close her off from the rest of the world and rough her up whenever he felt like it.
This time, he stole her future. Any hope of freedom, any chance of getting away from him for good.
I wait until she’s in the bathroom with the shower running before I head out. I only take cash from my wallet, leaving everything else behind in favor of having both hands free to carry the bags. I should stop at the convenience store across the street from the restaurant and pick her up a few essentials, too, while I’m waiting for the food.
I barely make it halfway down the street when a sleek, black Lexus pulls up beside me. “Excuse me, miss? I’m a little lost. Can you help me?”
Right. Like I’ve never watched an episode of Dateline. I pretend I can’t hear him, intent on crossing the street once I reach the corner.
“Miss Jones? Did you not hear me?”
