Page 136 of Trailer Trash

Clark lingers in my eyes, but to my surprise, he seems sad, not upset.

“I’m concerned, Harlow,” he says finally. He picks up another paper. “This is Killian’s phone bill. I keep an eye on it. He’s texting someone who is a very bad influence on him.”

“You track his phone records?” I reply in disbelief.

He sighs and nods slowly. “To be honest, I didn’t think Killian would last this long. I figured he would be gone by now, living in squalor on someone’s couch and using drugs. You have been good for him.”

“Oh.” I smile meekly, then shudder as I recall what just happened. I touch my neck, but blood doesn’t wet my fingertips.

Clark leans forward, his elbows on the desk.

“It is clear my son is in love with you.”

My heart trips over itself, and my face flushes, hot and clammy. I cover my mouth. He said he was obsessed. Maybe that’s how he loves. If a rapist can love. Or feel. Or be anything but a monster.

Why am I not telling Clark what happened?

He continues, as if the bomb he just dropped is trivial.

“And that’s what makes this so hard for me.” His face is sullen and his tone grim. “Killian is spiraling. I see the signs.” He holds the phone bill up once more. “These texts are bad, he’s been journaling, too. Last time he started filling notebooks, it was the beginning of the end.”

He pauses, as if the next part is physically painful for him to say aloud.

“My son... he becomes very dangerous when he spirals. He’s been in fights. He’s been arrested several times. He’s been in standoffs with the police. I’ve spent a lot of money on lawyers keeping him out of prison. The point is, I worry if I don’t intervene now, he will end up hurting you.”

Just then—

I draw in a sharp breath as warmth leaks into my underwear.

Killian’s release just slipped from my body.

“Oh my God,” I whisper, too soft for Clark to hear.

I glance up, my chin trembling as I squeak out, “You think he’ll hurt me?”

“Yes. I could see you two have gotten closer, but I’m reassigning you back to the hospital.”

The words slam into me like a truck.

“Really?” I say, astounded.

“It brings me no pleasure. Christine is mad at me. She thinks you leaving Killian will make things worse. She wants to deny he isn’t doing well. Hell, I do too. However, I’ve been in denial long enough. He was anxious today. Paranoid. Twitching. Frida called ten-minutes ago saying he’s using again. I can’t let an innocent girl become collateral damage.” He tosses the phone bill like it disgusts him.

I sit there, speechless.

“I’ll keep your pay as is. Keep the car. Sell it. Whatever. But I need you to stay away from my son, Miss Anderson. Do you understand?”

Hell yeah. Killian needs to be arrested. I need a therapist and a rape kit. I need...

It isn’t until a tear falls from my cheek and onto my lap that I realize I’m crying.

I’m really leaving Killian.

I’ll never see him again.

I shake my head. “I don’t know...”

I can’t believe I just said that!