Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 74348 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74348 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
"Oh, you know, Shane. Just your average, everyday street harassment," the first woman declared to the man in question. "We got it handled."
"Sure you do, Bex, but you won't mind me making sure everything is alright."
"I don't want any problems." Thomas insisted. The words were a choked, raspy noise as he once again waved out my coffee. Like he expected me to walk over there and take it. "I just wanted to give Annie coffee."
"Well, Annie doesn't want your coffee," the still unnamed redhead declared.
"And in case this ain't clear," Bex pitched in. "She don't want your pasty-ass pencil dick either."
There was a snicker from Shane, and that seemed to be the final straw.
The coffee got thrown on the ground.
And he turned and ran off.
"Oh, a pushy motherfucker and a litterer too," Bex declared, moving forward to fetch the coffee cup, tossing it in the nearby bin. "The Earth is melting, you asshole!" she added to his retreating form.
My body had no idea how to react.
The fear was there, undiluted, raw.
But there was also this intense, all-consuming urge to laugh my butt off at the whole interaction.
"Guess I shouldn't have doubted ya, huh, Bex?"
"Go on back to your gym and grunt at the machines. We bitches are keeping the streets safe, don't you worry."
"You good?" Shane asked after smiling at Bex, nodding his head at me.
"I, ah, yeah. I'm okay," I assured him, watching as he gave me a small smile before shuffling off. In the same direction as Thomas. Which I didn't think was a coincidence at all.
It was then that the laugh broke out. Awkward, choppy, drawing the attention of the women. "That was amazing," I told them, shaking my head. "I want to be like you guys when I grow up. Thank you so much. Bex. And..." I trailed off, looking over at the redhead.
"Nora."
"Nora. Thank you so much. I don't like admitting that I need to be saved. But..."
"He had no chin. Did he really think he had a chance with you?" Bex asked, giving an exaggerated eye roll. "And no need to thank us. Bitches gotta have one another's backs. That's how we don't end up on true crime shows."
"That's Bex's worst fear," Nora informed me. "Being one of those headlines."
"If I am going to be in a headline, it is going to be saying I chopped the balls off some rapist, not because I went missing, never to be seen again. So, you need a ride home?" she asked, motioning over toward a car that predated all of us.
"Actually, if you guys could just walk me about a block that way," I suggested, motioning where I had come from. "I mean, if you don't mind. He... seemed rather persistent."
He didn't just seem persistent.
He was.
But I didn't need to get into the whole ugly history of that with them. They had lives to get back to.
"No problem," Nora insisted, linking her arm through mine again, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
"We could use the exercise," Bex agreed. "And don't worry. If he didn't take the hint, and Shane didn't scare him off, I have pepper spray in my purse."
With that, the two women walked me right back to the front of my apartment building, gave me smiles, and went back to their - hopefully - amazing lives.
And me? I rushed upstairs as fast as my legs could carry me, throwing open my apartment door, running into my bedroom, grabbing my suitcase, throwing a few scattered things back into it, then going back into my living room.
Not mine.
It was never mine.
Nothing and nowhere ever was.
Because he always found me.
Always.
And then I had to leave.
Before it got ugly.
Before I couldn't get away.
I paused in the living room, eyes scanning around for anything I needed.
I bent to shove my guitar back into its case, shuffling some music in haphazardly.
As I stood, my phone popped out of my pocket, dropping down to the floor.
It was right then that the heart-ripping sensation came back, stronger, almost taking me down on my knees.
I had to leave it.
I always had to.
In case there was some way to be tracked by it.
I couldn't leave clues.
Normally, there was nothing to leave. Because I never knew where I might end up anyway. I got in my car and drove. Ended up somewhere. Started over.
The only difference here was, by leaving the phone, I was leaving something - someone - that had become incredibly important to me behind.
And I couldn't bring him with me.
I wouldn't be able to text him, to fall asleep to his goodnight text, to wake up to his good morning ones. I wouldn't be able to vent when he asked me how my day was and I said fine and he replied No, really.
What was worse, I would also leave behind all the potential I was starting to think maybe wasn't as one-sided as I had claimed it was.