AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You laugh now, but if he got those fingers in you—”
“No thanks,” I said, grimacing.
“Too good to fuck in bathrooms? Or is it the repulsed-by-men thing still?”
“I got a second chance. I finished my degree and got my RN license. I don’t want another man after what I went through. You can just have enough fun for the both of us, okay?”
“Fine. When you decide to live a little, let me know. I’ll find you a drummer or some free vodka at least.”
“Do not bring me a promo bottle of that elderflower crap, please.” I begged.
“I’d only do that if I hated you,” she said, “Talk to you later!”
I was sifting through my mail when I blurted out, “Shit!”
“What?” she asked, still on the line.
“It’s an envelope from Victim’s Services. A notification…” I skimmed it. “Eric’s getting paroled.”
“Shit. Are you okay?”
“I guess I am as long as he follows the rules and stays away from me,” I said grimly, my stomach revolting. I wanted to run and throw up, lock three doors behind me, or go hide in my closet. Just reading his name made a knot of dread materialize and twist in my gut.
I felt the hollow, hopeless fear march back into my body after I spent so many hours in group therapy and doing yoga to get past it. Terror is a cold, sick feeling, and already it threatened to run its finger down my throat.
“You know you can come live with me. I have tons of room. It’s a secured building. No fob, no approved ID with the doorman equals no entry. You can use the big steam shower,” she coaxed. I shook my head.
“You’re so sweet, and I love you for offering, but I really want to do this on my own. I don’t want to hide behind anyone. I got out alone. I put him in jail alone. I went back to school and I got my own place, and I’m proud of that. I feel like running away from my apartment and trying to hide from him is like—it’s like I’m the one who did something wrong. I’m the one with the shame.” I sighed.
“I don’t really understand that, but I’ll respect it. At any point, if you change your mind girlie, you know I got you.”
“Thanks,” I said, meaning it.
“At the risk of being a rerun from those therapy sessions you used to go to, I just want to know—you do realize that letting people who love you help you isn’t the same thing as being weak or hiding, right? Accepting help isn’t a coward’s way out.”
“I know, Kendall. And I know I need to work on being able to do that, to ask and reach out and stuff. Even the therapist said I was too independent. That it was kind of arrogant to think I can do everything on my own. But I feel like I have to prove to myself that he didn’t destroy me. That Eric,” I paused for a beat and took deep breaths after making myself say his name out loud, “doesn’t own me or control my actions like he once did.”
“Okay. I’ll let it go for now. As long as you promise me that the second this motherfucker bothers you, you’ll tell me and we’ll get you someplace safe.”
“Ok, fine, if the motherfucker knocks on my door, I’ll call you right after 911.”
“No, first you call 911, then you tase him and beat the shit out of him with a bat.”
“Do I need to write this down on a list?”
“No, you need to use the taser. You have it, right?”
“Of course, I do,” I said. Truthfully. Because I did have it, still in the box, in a drawer. I’m a nurse who is a healer, not someone who jolts people full of painful electricity or does harm. It felt wrong to me to carry it or even to hold it.
“Practice with it. You have to get used to the weight of it and learn to balance it with one hand and thrust forward. Read the package insert so you know the most sensitive places to zap someone. Obviously, the armpit or under the chin are good because they’re really tender, but the back of the arm is good too. The ass, surprisingly, isn’t that effective,” she said.
“You are terrifying,” I snorted. “I’m just wondering how many times you’ve seen me bend over and thought, should I zap her in the ass?”
“No, I’ve never wanted to tase you. Cross my heart. Rory, on the other hand, is a boy will never grow up. Swear to God, last time I went to Mom and Dad’s for brunch, he squirted whipped cream in my handbag. My Coach Pillow Tabby bag, which I realize is from last year, but I still love it for spring.” She huffed, and I could imagine her indignation when her goofy brother squirted aerosol dairy into her puffy, tiny pink purse.
