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Password declined. No. No way. Tears well in my eyes.That’smymoney.
“Don’t cry. Not yet. Get back to Cam’s, then you can lose your shit.”
Camden’s phone rings and rings, eventually going to voicemail. He'll be on the ice all morning. I can’t wait here. It’s not safe. I have no idea what Bryan has up his sleeve, maybe he’s close, waiting to find me alone on this bench. Okay. How do I get back without money? I grab my wallet and check for cash. None, so much for using paper money to get a ride. I’ve got coins... four dollars and thirty-seven cents worth. Forgetting to clean out my wallet is about to pay off—literally.
Buses take cash, don’t they?I google how to ride the bus in Minneapolis. Holy hell. This map looks like someone shat out rainbow spaghetti. The lines blur together. Thankfully, there’s a route planner, so I type in Camden’s address. I memorized it. Okay, 540 to 6. 6 to 46C. That will get me to the library, which is the closest I can get for the money in my wallet. After that, I’ll still have to walk five-point-three miles to his house, but I’ll do it. I’ll take every goddamn step, because fuck Bryan Davenport.
He thinks I’ll give up. That I’ll come crawling home because I’ve got my back against the wall. Never. I’ll do it for the sheer pleasure of pissing him off.
“I just need to get back to Cam’s. I can do this. I can do this,” I whisper to myself.
I can’t believe I’m psyching myself up over a bus ride.I push all the other shit out of my mind and focus on solving my first problem: transportation. My eyes check the time. If I don’t hurry, I’ll miss the next bus.
I turn off my phone and hustle to the nearest stop. I’m not giving Bryan the satisfaction of watching my location bounce from bus station to bus station or giving away where I’m staying.
As I arrive, a bus pulls up, right on time, number 540. I almost jump for joy, that’smybus—and it’s here! Exactly like the internet said it would be. I’m annoyed at my privilege, millions of people do this every day, but right now I don’t care. It’s the first thing that’s gone right for me today, and I’m taking my wins where I can get them.
The driver opens the door and two people get on before me, all of them have these yellow cards. Uh oh, do I need a special card?
“Do you take coins?”
The driver nods.
I grab a handful of quarters and feed them into the slot, someone behind me sighs loudly, irritated I’m holding up the line. I find a seat near the window and pay attention to the number of stops and my location so I know where I need to get off.
Two more buses later, I’m standing at the library. The bus departs, leaving me in a cloud of exhaust fumes. I find my bearings and remember the map I made in my head.
Now, I have to walk.
In heels.
Over five miles.
I’m not turning my phone back on to try and call Cam. I’m too paranoid. Instead, I let my mind wander. Unfortunately, it’s stuck on one channel, replaying the morning I’ve had. I’mexhausted.
Even though I don’t deserve it, shame clings to me like a gross film on my skin. As if everyone around me can see what a failure I am.
The dam of emotion behind my eyes weakens with each step. This isn’t a nightmare I’ll wake from. This is happening—I let this happen.The tears build in my eyes until they roll down my cheeks.
“You can cry until you reach the next stop sign. Then you’re done.”
14
By the time I hit the halfway mark, my feet throb and the flesh is raw at my achilles.How am I only halfway?There were sidewalks in the beginning of my trek, but those ended a while ago, so I’ve been walking along the shoulder. I look like a hitchhiker. If someone stopped, I’d probably take the ride. It’s tempting to turn my phone back on, but with each step closer to Camden’s house, the more dangerous that becomes. I can’t continue in these heels, they hurt too much. When I peel them off, my feet are swollen and bleeding.
“Shit.” I stuff the shoes in my purse, and the cold ground feels soothing. The only way to get home is one damn foot in front of the other. Eventually, my feet will go numb and it won’t hurt anymore.Keep moving.
As soon as I take the first step, the gravel on the road is hell. Something about that step flips a switch in my brain, and almost instantly my sadness turns into rage. It’s as if every dig, every infraction, everyJordanafrom Bryan’s lips are tossed in the pile of shame filling my thoughts. I let it buildand build until I finally douse the heap in gasoline and strike a match to watch the whole thing go up in a blazing inferno.
He pushed too hard. He took too much. He went too far.
I snap.Now it’s my turn. The night he hurt me, all I wanted was to be free of him, but being free isn’t enough anymore—he needs to know what this feels like, this hopelessness. I want him to hurt. I want him tofear me.
Being a villain sounds like more fun than being a victim.
I imagine his smug smile, thinking he’s got me under his thumb. Doesn’t he know an animal is most dangerous when cornered? I welcome the dark thoughts in my mind. Camden’s right, I don’t need to play nice anymore. I will start by making good on that hefty donation to the police department... Bryan may have started this war, but I will finish it.
The numbness kicks in, and my feet don’t hurt as much. I come up with a list of things he values most: money, reputation, comfort, and power.I’m taking them all.
