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9
BLAIR
It’s been a week since the confrontation at the coffee shop, and this is the morning I’m supposed to return to work. Brian is in the shower, waiting for me to join him, when I get the message.
The text from Tanner’s burner phone flickers to life on my phone screen, illuminating the dark room with a sinister glow. My heart lurches as I see the picture he sent—a close-up of his battered face.
Hope you’re happy. My dad is so fixated on fucking you that he did this to me. Have a nice life, Blair.
How did it come to this? Brian, the man I've fallen head over heels for, has struck his own flesh and blood. It's a betrayal that slices through me like a dagger, shredding everything that I thought I knew about him.
The shower is still running. He’s occupied. If I want to get out of here, this might be my only chance.
With trembling hands, I gather my things, tears stinging my eyes. How could I have been so blind? How could I have fallen for a man capable of such violence? The love I thought was pure and unbreakable now feels tainted, poisoned by the reality of Brian's actions. I can't stay here, not for a moment longer. I need to get away, far away from the man I thought I knew. I grab my purse, fingers fumbling for my phone to call a cab.
It’s still early, so when I get outside, the cab is already waiting for me on the curb, exhaust curling into the air. I give the driver the address to my old apartment, my voice steadier than I feel inside.
As the cab weaves through the city's labyrinth of streets, my mind is a whirlwind of confusion. Brian's face, once a source of safety and comfort, now haunts my thoughts. The man I love seems like an illusion, a mirage that vanished the moment I saw that horrifying image.
I knew he beat the crap out of the stalker, but the idea that he could hit his own child…
Maybe it wouldn’t bother me so much if my period wasn’t late.
“Wait,” I tell the driver and see him look at me in the rearview mirror. “Can we stop at the drugstore first?”
We pull up to a CVS, and I rush inside, my heart racing with anxiety. The shelves blur together as I grab a pregnancy test, my mind grappling with the possibility of another life being caught up in this mess. I'm only 19. The weight of the situation crashes down on me, and I feel an overwhelming sense of helplessness.
Back in the cab, clutching the small bag containing the test, my hands shake. Each passing moment intensifies the storm inside me. The cab ride, usually a mundane journey through the city, feels like a passage through purgatory. I'm stuck in a nightmare of my own making.
When I finally step into my old apartment, a strange mixture of relief and sadness washes over me. The familiar surroundings provide a momentary sense of comfort, but it's fleeting. As I close the door behind me, I realize I'm not just running from Brian, but I'm running from the life I thought we could have together.
Sitting on the edge of my old bed, I stare at the pregnancy test in my hands. I take a deep breath, trying to steady my trembling hands as I unwrap the test. Time stretches into eternity as I wait for the results, my mind echoing with the what-ifs and the could-have-been.
When the timer beeps, I force myself to look. I hold my breath, my eyes scanning the tiny window that holds the answer to a question I'm not sure I'm ready to face.
The small plastic stick on the bathroom counter bears two unmistakable lines and my heart plummets. Positive. The word echoes in my mind, drowning out all other thoughts. My fingers tremble as I place the test aside, unable to bear looking at it any longer. How did my life spiral into this mess? All I had to do was not take the copygirl job, not sleep with my boss…
I need to get away, if only for a moment, from the crushing reality of the positive test, the shattered trust, and my own conflicted emotions.
I leave the bathroom, needing distance from the test. Back on the futon, I pick up my phone, seeing that it’s buzzing with Brian's relentless calls. I guess he’s noticed that I left then. My mind races with thoughts of him—the affection we shared, the tenderness he once showed me. But now, those memories are tainted by the image of his son's bruised face and the knowledge of his violence.
The phone's incessant buzzing intensifies, a reminder of the storm awaiting me. My hands shake as I power it off, silencing Brian's desperate attempts to reach me. I'm not ready to face him yet, not until I can sort through my own feelings…and make my own plan.
A sob catches in my throat as I collapse onto the futon. The tears come unbidden, streaming down my cheeks like a river of despair. I'm torn between the longing for the man I thought I knew and the horror of his actions. How can I still want to be with him after what he did?
Deep inside, a part of me clings to the idea of being with Brian for the rest of my life. The room feels stifling, the walls closing in on me. I need air, space, a moment to breathe without the weight of Brian's actions pressing down on my chest.
I grapple with my emotions, the love I once felt warring with the reality of Brian's violence. I want to believe in the goodness I saw in him, the tenderness he showed me. But can I ever trust him again?
At least I still have this apartment. The room feels like a cocoon, a place where I can hide until I’m ready to face reality again.
That is, until my sanctuary shatters when the door bursts open, and Brian stands there, his face etched with worry and panic. "Blair, are you okay?" he breathes, his voice laced with desperation.
I look up, my eyes swollen from tears, and manage a weak nod. "Physically, I'm fine," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. Mentally and emotionally, though, I'm shattered.
"Why did you run?" he demands, his voice rising with frustration. "I've told you before, you're mine. You can't just run and hide whenever you're upset. It's unacceptable."
His possessiveness, once something that thrilled me on so many levels, feels soured now.
