AllFreeNovel
Share Us
What was I supposed to do now?
Sleep would have been the obvious answer. But there was no way in hell I could sleep now. Or possibly ever again.
I needed to… talk to the police. To Detective Vaughn. Try to give him more details. Anything that might be helpful. Since I was the only living victim of this deranged man.
To do that, though, I needed to… get cleaned up.
Home popped into my head, a place I’d always thought of as my own little sanctuary. Now, it felt like nothing but a crime scene.
Would the press be there now? Doing broadcasts from outside my house? Speculating about me and what I’d endured?
Oh, God.
Would the news reach New York State? Would my family be watching it, reading about it?
I had to call them.
I would call them.
Then I needed to figure out how to get some clothes. Then shower. And get to the precinct.
Feeling more focused, I walked to the window, pushing open the blinds, trying to orient myself.
There was a pharmacy that was close enough to walk to.
I’d look crazy doing so in my oversized clothes andsocks, not shoes, but it would be a means to an end. It wasn’t like it was a box store or anything, but most chain pharmacies had a clothing aisle. Leggings, socks, packs of tees. Nothing fancy. But clean. New. Not worn by God-knew-who before me.
They’d also have some sort of footwear. Even if it was just those throw-away shoes you could keep rolled up in your purse for a night out when your heels started to hurt you.
I could probably get a charger there too.
Toiletries.
A notebook and pen to start writing down things as I remembered them.
Some makeup to try to hide some of my bruises.
Decision made, I went to check my purse, finding all my cards right where I left them, then grabbing my phone, and doing the task I was dreading the most.
Calling my family.
It was early, but my father worked construction, and was always up before the sun.
“What’s wrong?” he answered on the second ring, knowing there was no good reason to be getting a call from me so early on in the day.
“I’m okay,” I started.
“Oh, Jesus. Were you in an accident?” he asked.
“I’m okay, but someone broke into my house last night,” I told him.
“You were robbed?”
“Dad, listen, please,” I begged, stomach flip-flopping. “A man broke in last night and tried to… hurt me,” I said, choking on the words, unable to say what it really was to my father.
Attemptedrapeandmurder.
“What? Oh, Jesus,” he said, and I could hear his lumbering footsteps as he moved through the house, going to wake up my mom, and repeating what I’d just told him before the connection got a little fuzzier as he put me on speaker. “Your mom is here with us.”
