AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Does he know about Micah?”
“Yeah. Bits of it,” I say, not wanting to tell Fran that even she doesn’t know the full story of what happened with him.
After weeks of helping me through the stalking and threats, and him and his deranged family knocking on the door of my basement suite in the middle of the night like a scene out of some horror movie, not to mention pushing me into walls, choking me, hitting me… and… other things, I couldn’t face telling her about the rest.
My friends already went through so much trying to keep me safe, letting me stay with them, helping me find ways to help me stop shaking with panic when his threats to kill me came through, getting me to finally go to the police, not that that was in the slightest bit useful seeing as he was careful to convey the threats verbally, but never leave them in a message.
Even now, months later, I still feel guilty about them being dragged into it all, putting themselves at risk in the process, even though I know they did it because they love me and would do anything to protect me, just as I would them.
I don't want to tell them I’m still getting weird calls and unnerving messages.
Hello.
I mean, that’s not strange, right?
Not unless you spent months being stalked and threatened and followed… and hurt.
Only then can you fully understand how one stupid innocuous word from a number you don’t know can leave you pacing for hours.
I should have pushed harder with the police, but they barely seemed to take it seriously. Apparently, unless I’m actually assaulted, the state of Maryland doesn’t really give a shit how deranged my ex gets.
And I’m not the only victim. He’s done this to several of his exes, only two of whom have ever gone to the police to make a complaint, only to withdraw it out of fear for themselves and their families.
It sounds easy, right? You’re being bothered, so call the police…
But when the man harassing you comes from one of the richest and most powerful families in the city, with connections to judges, lawyers, politicians, police and God knows who else, nothing is ever that simple…
And the sad reality is that he’s now in jail not for what he did to me, or to his exes who have all been through the same shit with him, but for beating up a guy in a bar—one as well-connected as him.
And this time, no amount of strings his family pulled could get him out on bail while awaiting trial for the assault in light of the fact that the victim ended up with his eye socket smashed in, a broken nose, a hematoma on his brain, and his vision permanently impaired.
Someone from the DA’s office told me they’ll accept a plea deal of no less than five years for the assault. They know about me and the other women, but unless we cooperate, and ignore the threats he made against our families, there’s little they can do, and I got the distinct impression that they had no intention of getting into that quagmire.
The only solace is that things have been quiet since he was arrested and detained without the option of bail seeing as this is his third violent offense, a fact I had no idea about when I met him.
Or at least, it was quiet until these weird messages started to come in a few weeks ago, as well as the anonymous calls that I didn’t answer, leading to long almost-silent voicemails.
I can’t shake the feeling that Micah has got someone from his family to mess with my head again, a fact that makes me feel… contaminated. Like I can’t take a full breath, like the air is filled with smoke.
I think that’s why when Kohl asked me out a couple of months ago, I finally said yes after his third attempt. I was so desperate to erase the touch of Micah from my body, so desperate to trust someone again.
And while Kohl is kind and smart and lovely, I’m just not ready to be with a man in any kind of serious way.
And for a reason which I don’t understand, I don’t feel safer when Kohl’s around, nor comforted, and his touch doesn't cleanse me of the feel of Micah like I prayed it would. Instead, it triggers me. It’s not his fault at all, but I don’t feel pleasure with him. I can’t even get aroused, and I have to hide that fact so as not to hurt him.
I guess that’s why I’m so perplexed at how the perfect stranger next door sporting the permanently disagreeable scowl could have reignited my libido after months of me assuming it was permanently rendered dormant.
“I told him I could only handle something really casual,” I say.
“And you think he wants more?” asks Fran, taking the kettle over to the sink to fill it up.
“Yeah. He gets kind of annoyed if I don’t text him back. He wants to know if I talked to other men. It’s not his fault. He just wants… a normal fucking relationship, but I just can’t give him that now. Not even close.”
“You have to tell him.”
“Yeah, I will.”
I text him back:
