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I scoff and shake my head. “God, you’re such a manipulative mindfuck—you were caught, Bryan! It’s over! Everybody can see through you.Isee through you. We both know this whole marriage was a sham. Neither of us have beenhappy. It’s done.”
I’ve never yelled back at him before, and it feels good.It feels so validating.
He wrinkles his nose and sneers. I don’t like it one bit. His eyes are dark and empty as he stalks toward me, and I step to the side. I refuse to let him back me up against a wall.Plan your exit. I retreat into the closet, which is attached to the laundry room, which is attached to the foyer hallway through a sliding pocket door.Just get to the front door.
“You fucking cunt... How dare you talk to me that way. You will show me respect.”
Cunt, that’s a new one. My hand casually moves to my back pocket as I take another step. Keys,check.
“You first.” I shouldn’t antagonize, but every memory of him making me feel small flashes in my thoughts, and I hate him for it.
My phone is in my purse, which I dropped next to the front door when I walked in. I have to get to my phone before he gets to me.Shit.
I take a deep breath and hush my voice, staying placid. “We both are not in a good place. You’re angry, and I’m going to stay at my parents’ house until you calm down.”
“I’m calm!” he shouts, and I flinch. “Oh, did I scare you?” His face is getting redder by the minute. “You don’t have anywhere to go. So if you want to smooth things over, stop walking away, and let’s talk like civilized adults.”
Inside the closet, I continue backing up, and as soon as my feet hit the laundry room, he lunges for me. I slam the pocket door, smashing his hand in the process. My eyes bulge.Fuck—now I’m in trouble.
I spin on my heel and run down the foyer hallway, snatching up my bag. Keys, phone, purse.Move.
Out of the corner of my eye, he comes barreling out of the laundry room.
Run.
Just as I grab the door handle, the clothes iron from the laundry room explodes against the wall next to me at eye level.He missed.I don’t scream. I don’t turn around.I don’t breathe.I run.
Past the elevator, I throw open the heavy metal door to the stairwell and pray I don’t trip in these stupid fucking heels, my feet moving as fast as they can, one after the other.
He’s on the stairs now. His strides are bigger than mine. This isn’t happening.
Go, go, go.
He’s coming for me, and if I don’t escape, he might kill me. I’m not sure if the iron he threw at me was to scare, maim, or worse... but it would have done the job if he was a few inches closer. I’m such an idiot for even coming back here.
Then his footsteps stop.My spine tingles. Why did he stop? Was I farther than I thought? Did he give up? His feet are no longer slapping the steps behind me. My hand keeps a loose grip on the handrail as I go. Swinging around each landing, I don’t stop to take a breath. My legs are shaking, but adrenaline keeps me focused.Stairs, landing, stairs, landing.Farther and farther, I descend the tower. How many more levels until I reach the underground parking? I can’t tell how much time has passed, and I’m unsure of what floor I’m passing.
Glancing up, I pass a giant seven, but my feet falter and I yelp, clutching the handrail and catching myself from falling and twisting an ankle. Holy fuck that was close.
Slow down! If you trip on these stairs, you’re a sitting duck. The goal is to make it out of here, remember?
“Okay, okay!” I say aloud to myself, then pause for a split second on the next landing to yank my heels off. The cold,damp concrete stairs fight against the sweat breaking across my skin. I shake off the cool relief and thank whatever higher power I didn’t kill myself trying to get away.
I pace myself, worried I’ll stumble again; it wouldn’t take more than one slight misstep. Too afraid to look up, my eyes remain trained on the stairs ahead of me. As safely as I can, I race to the bottom. Fate has given me a second chance. I fear it won’t be as kind the third time.
After what feels like forever, I hit the lower level, yank open the metal door, and freeze. The blood drains from my face when I see Bryan leaning against the security desk. How can I be so foolish? He took the fucking elevator down. He looks up and smooths his hair over and smiles. His likely mangled hand is stuffed in his pocket. The security guard behind him is unaware of the peril I’m in. I slip my shoes back on.
“There you are, honey. Why did you take the stairs?”
I stay closer to the wall as I near the garage. “Wanted to burn the extra calories,” I mumble.
Think, Jordan!If I tell them he was chasing me, he’ll convince them I’m crazy. Maybe he already has. A second security guard walks past me, and I grab his arm.
He swings around and stares at me. I clear my throat. “I, um, I need an escort to my car.”
“No, she doesn’t. She’s coming upstairs with me.”
Faking a smile, I wave him off. “Relax, babe. I’m just picking up groceries, I’ll be back soon.” My voice wavers but I remain smiling. “We need milk.”
