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emily
Cue the longest weekend of my life.
And not in a good way.
I leave the Palmer house early on Friday and have a few hours to kill before I can get into my motel room, so I head to the parking lot at the beach again and read until I can ‘go home’.
On Saturday morning, I skedaddle early and head to a laundromat to get my laundry done, which takes a few hours. Then I swing by Leighton’s to drop off a pair of her underwear that must have mistakenly made it into my things, though she’s not home so I use the spare key and tuck it into her dresser before shooting her a text.
Then I head to my final shift as a bartender at The Lighthouse.
I assumed when I told Soren about my nannying job that he’d let me duck out of the two-week notice period, but I’m kind of thankful he didn’t. The extra tips last weekend and what I’ll be getting tonight should make a really big difference when added on top of my salary.
Or it should have.
I’m walking out to my car at the end of my shift that night when the wind gets knocked out of me and I find myself face down on the loose gravel about ten feet from my car. Whoever knocked me over grabs my purse, gives me a swift kick in the stomach that has me curling into a ball and crying out in pain, then bolts.
I stay on the ground, shaken and crying, for at least a few minutes before I hear the creak of the back door opening, and then a “Shit,” before the sound of footfalls shifting through the gravel coming in my direction. I tilt my head, and when I spot Soren jogging toward me, I let out a sob of relief.
“Fucking hell, Emily. What happened?” he asks, crouching down next to me. “Call 911,” he calls to someone else before returning his eyes to mine. “Jesus. Are you alright?”
I nod, though the throb in my stomach is the hardest part to handle. Soren helps me get off the ground and we move over to the back exit, where I take a seat at the outdoor table we have for employee smoke breaks.
The next hour is exhausting.
An ambulance arrives and EMTs check me out, suggesting I go to the hospital, but I decline. The police take my statement and I give them all the information I can, which isn’t much.
The only good thing to come from any of this is the fact that my car keys were in my hand, and my slim wallet with my ID and one credit card was in my back pocket. So whoever stole my purse got away with my phone, my stack of cash tips for the night—over $300, which makes me want to cry—and the piddly shit that slowly piles up in purses: lip balm, phone charger, gum, a bunch of old hair ties, and hand sanitizer.
Thankfully, Soren knows how close I am with Leighton and gives her a call to tell her what happened. It isn’t much longer before she’s sprinting in my direction, just as the police wrap up with their questions.
“Emily! Oh my god, I can’t believe this.”
She wraps her arms around me and I soak it up, enjoying the comfort from a friend that I need so badly right now.
That’s when the dam opens and my own tears rush forth, the intensity of the past hour finally unleashing. The pain in my stomach and my head, my entire body feeling sore now that my adrenaline has worn off, the fear I felt at being forced onto the ground.
We were robbed one time when I was a kid. This guy my mom had recently broken up with showed up at our trailer, kicked in the door, and stole my mom’s purse and our TV. I only remember little pieces of it, but it was terrifying nonetheless. I felt so helpless, so frustratingly incapable of doing anything about it.
That same feeling is surging through me tonight. The helplessness. The silent wish that I could have done something different…anything different.
“So what’s the deal, Bug? You out here causing problems?”
My tear-stained face turns at the sound of the familiar male voice, both calming and reassuring, and my lips tilt up when I see August.
“We were together when Soren called me,” Leighton says. “But I probably would have called him anyway. He’s much better in a crisis than I am.”
I snort, wiping at my eyes. “Isn’t that the truth.”
“First thing’s first, are we heading to the hospital?” August asks, crouching down in front of me. “I saw an ambulance pull out of here, so I’m assuming you declined a ride, but we can take you.”
I shake my head. “No, I’m fine. They said the guy didn’t break anything but that I’ll probably be pretty bruised up tomorrow.”
August winces. “Alright. Well then let’s get you home. I’ll drive you, and Leighton can follow in your car.”
My eyes widen and I glance at my friend, who instantly knows what the problem is.
“You still won’t tell us what’s going on?” she asks, crossing her arms in irritation. “This is ridiculous. Whatever the situation is, after a night like tonight, I hope you realize how important it is that you’re staying somewhere safe.”
