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* * *
I nodoff at some point during the drive home but jerk awake as we drive over the speedbumps to my apartment. Working down the scream lodged in my throat, I breathe deep and evenly through my nose. My grip on my seat loosens as Grant pulls to a stop in front of my building. I push open the door and jump down without a word.
“Thanks again, dollface,” Grant calls after me.
Tired of his dramatic mood changes, I flip him the middle finger and slam the door shut behind me. Without looking back, I head up the stairs to my apartment. For as much coffee that I’d downed over dinner, I’m exhausted. Maybe it was the long night I pulled the night before. Either way, I’m ready to collapse. The thought of falling into bed the moment I walk inside is the only thing giving me enough energy to pick up my feet.
I make it to my door and move to unlock it. As my key comes toward the doorknob, I freeze.
The door is cracked open. What? I could’ve sworn I shut it this morning as Grant and I left. The lock doesn’t lookbrokenso maybe it just didn’t latch when I shut it. The probable scenario doesn’t calm me down as I push open the door and step inside. I flick on the lights and gasp.
My apartment has been trashed.
The couch cushions have been ripped apart and the frame sticks out at strange angles. The console table is in pieces, my potted plants and pictures are shattered, soil and glass littering the floor. There are gouges in the carpet, cabinet doors missing in the kitchen, and my food that was in the refrigerator is thrown on the walls. My television lays face down on the ground and on top of it is…
I gag and look away. Whopoopson things?
My heart drops right out of my chest. Wh-what? My mind reels as I try to piece everything together. But the longer I look at the mess, the more I’m baffled. And the more scared I get. I can hear the pounding of my heart in my head. Is the room spinning? I reach out and brace my hand against the wall to steady myself.
W-who would do this? And why?
Immediately, my thoughts go to Trip and Jason. Could this be some type of punishment for breaking some rule? Were they upset that I was with Grant? No, that can’t be right. Those three are completely in sync with one another. So, had Grant called them and told them to do this for some reason?
None of that feels right. They’re assholes for sure, but this? This doesn’t feel like them. Their punishments come in the form of orgasms, or lack thereof. They’ve never outright destroyed anything before. But if it wasn’t them, who would do this?
And could they still be here?
My knee-jerk reaction is to call out and see if anyone answers. Thank goodness I have better sense than that. As quickly and as quietly as I can, I back up, out of the apartment and shut the door. With a shaking hand, I pull out my phone and call the police.
* * *
“Alright,Miss Wilson, your place has been thoroughly checked and there is no one inside,” Officer Fieldward assures me. The middle aged man with sun-kissed skin and graying brown hair sticking out from beneath his hat pulls me off to the side as his partner steps out of my apartment.
“We’ll file your report and make sure it’s in the system. I think you’ll be ok staying here, but if it’s possible, I suggest calling and staying with a friend.”
A friend? Immediately, I think of Pianna. She would be the one I normally ran to if something got bad. But she’s not around and a trip across the state just isn’t in the cards for me right now. I work in the morning. I could call Jonathan and Brenda. I’m sure they’d let me stay with them. But then they’d fret, and, like a mother hen, they both would hover, and it would be stifling. I definitely don’t want that. I could call Megan, but she’ll want to talk my ear off about this, and I don’t want to do anything other than sleep.
What about the guys?
It goes to show how tired I am that I am even considering calling them. Would they even pick up? And if they did, would they let me crash at their place? No, probably not. I’m not their friend. I’m just their plaything. They wouldn’t care about this, and even if they did let me come over, I would be at their mercy. I’d owe them something. My heart, already bottomed out, heaves a heavy sigh of despair.
“I’ll probably just grab a few things and go to a hotel for the night,” I mutter with a frown.
The officer nods in understanding, “That might be a good idea. We’ll interview your neighbors in the morning and see if anyone saw or heard anything.”
“Thanks for your help.” I run my hand over my hair as my attention lands on my open door. “W-would you mind just waiting out here while I grab a bag?”
“Not at all, ma’am.” Officer Fieldward gives me a small smile and steps aside. “Take all the time you need.”
I mumble my thanks again and slip inside. My bedroom wasn’t spared in the break in. My comforter has been brought into the bathroom and shoved into my toilet, the mattress is torn to shreds, and my clothes are scattered about. With tears in my eyes, I quickly grab an overnight bag from my closet and grab a handful of items. I grab some toiletries and throw them into my bag as well.
When I’m done, I step out of my apartment with my bag in tow.
“Are you sure you have everything you need?” Officer Fieldward asks, concerned.
“Yeah, I’m going to sit in my car and call around to see who has a room. Thanks so much for your help.” I wipe a tear off my cheek.
“Hopefully, with your neighbors’ help, we’ll catch who did this,” he says. “Are you sure it wasn’t an angry boyfriend or a jilted lover? This seems to be an act of passion since nothing looks like it was taken, and you haven’t noticed anything missing.”
