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I hadn’t gone more than a hundred feet when the hair on the back of my neck prickled. I was being watched. Turning, I glanced over my shoulder back the way I’d come. Nothing. Even as I looked and found no sign, the discomfort didn’t ease. Screw it, I’d use the bus. One credit was worth the peace of mind knowing no one was actually following me. The click of my heels on the sidewalk sped up as I hurried to the bus stop. Every few feet I looked back. The feeling never left. If anything, the faster I walked the worse the feeling got.
Once I was on the bus, I took a breath and relaxed, then chastised myself for being so paranoid. Outside, the city rushed past in a blur, my imagined peeping Tom with it. Concrete, asphalt, cars, and people. A movie played on fast forward, flashing past. No matter how hard I tried, I’d never feel like I was part of that movie. All I could hope for was to be an extra, standing in the shadows, wishing I was more important than I was.
Chapter 2
Even though the session hadn’t gone the way I’d wanted it to, by the time I got to the bus stop by my place I was actually feeling better. The bus ride had given me time to relax and refocus. I still had almost thirty minutes until I had to be at work. I got off at the stop and walked to work like I usually did. It would help me get back into my groove.
I wasn’t OCD. It wasn’t that I had to keep my patterns the same. It was that I tended to be more relaxed when things happened in a specific order and in the same way each day. My therapist had hit the nail on the head. It was about control and power.
As soon as I stepped off the bus, I turned and walked the hundred yards up to my apartment but stumbled to a stop when I spotted the parking spot in front.
Each unit came with its own spot, which was one of the major benefits of the unit. Of course that had been a moot point for me, I couldn’t afford a car. My spot usually sat empty.
Today, the car in my spot I recognized immediately. Carlos’s red Mustang, an older nineties model with immaculate paint and a stupid bumper sticker. Simon Says You Suck.
That bumper sticker alone should’ve been my first red flag. Hell, it should’ve been the only one I needed. Warning, this guy isn’t a keeper. Unfortunately, I’d been too hungry for companionship. Too desperate for someone to be with.
Carlos had been a colossal fucking mistake, one I was still paying for.
The breakup happened fast. I’d never even had the chance to get my apartment key back. Now he’d made himself at home. Good thing I’d had to change my appointment or I would’ve been home when he showed up.
Panicked, I turned and looked down the street. Workers moved around, still setting up for the Memorial Day festival that afternoon. I’d gotten lucky. Cops were in the process of blocking off the street my bus had taken a few moments before. Could I head straight to work? I didn’t have my uniform shirt or the right shoes. If I worked in these, I’d have bloody blisters by the end of my double shift.
Marie and Clint probably had an extra shirt they’d let me wear. They were the closest thing I had to family. They wouldn’t mind. What were some blisters compared to dealing with my ex?
Preferable, actually. The blisters couldn’t talk.
I made up my mind to go on ahead to work when the front door of my apartment opened. Carlos walked out with his arms open and a frown on his face.
“Where the fuck were you?” He threw his hands to his sides as he came toward me.
The raw spot inside my cheek bled again. The moment I’d seen him, I’d bitten down on it.
His tone was overbearing, as usual. The one thing Carlos had been consistent about during our relationship was the fact that he was an asshole. The best thing I could say about him was that he wasn’t overly violent. Which was kinda surprising given my history with people in general. He’d grab me hard and leave finger-shaped bruises on my arm, maybe slap me if I talked back, but nothing unbearable.
When I didn’t answer, he leaned toward me and glared. “Were you with another guy?”
The question was ridiculous. He knew I’d only had two or three boyfriends my whole life. He’d been my first in almost a year. I wasn’t the type to jump from guy to guy. Hell, the only reason I’d ever ended up with Carlos was that he basically wouldn’t take no for an answer. Yet another ignored red flag. I’d declined his offer of a date after he’d eaten at the diner. Instead of taking the hint, he kept showing up until I finally went out with him to get him to leave me alone. He was like the sun. Pulling things into its orbit whether they wanted to be there or not.
“I asked you a question, Dee.”
I gritted my teeth. “My name is Dahlia, not Dee. You know I don’t like nicknames.”
“Oh, good. You can speak. I said, where the hell were you?” Carlos ignored what I’d said.
“Can we go inside and talk about this?” I mumbled. People passing on the street were looking at the scene playing out. Embarrassment and shame washed over me.
Carlos ran his hands through his hair and shook his head in exasperation. “I can’t believe this shit. You were fucking someone else last night, weren’t you?” His face went red, and he leaned in, holding a shaking finger up to my face. “Who was it? That fat cook at the diner who always looks at your ass? That guy? What did you do? Did you let him fuck your ass? You never let me do anal, so you probably let him shove it in there to get back at me.”
Humiliation stained my cheeks as I looked at my watch again. It was the only thing I owned that had any real value. A diamond watch with infinity symbols on the band and face. Maria and Clint had given it to me as a high school graduation gift. Shit. I only had fifteen minutes to get to work, and it was at least a ten-minute walk to get there.
“Carlos, I have to get to work, and no, I wasn’t fucking someone else, not that it’s any of your business. I need to go.”
My little speech was supposed to sound controlled and confident, but it came out sounding whiny. If Carlos even registered what I’d said, he didn’t give a hint. All he did was turn and kick a rock on the sidewalk in anger. The pebble bounced and made a clicking sound as it hit the window of the bottom-floor apartment. My apartment. As my day was going to shit, I was honestly a little surprised it didn’t shatter the window.
Carlos jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and walked away. He turned and walked backward as he called out to me. “We aren’t done talking about this. You aren’t in charge. You don’t get to say when things are over. I do. You’ll understand soon.”
Once he rounded the corner, I collapsed and sat on the steps of the complex. It was early in the day, and I was already emotionally exhausted. All I wanted was to sit there and relax. Catch my breath, but the thought of that extra three-hundred dollars a month in rent sat above me like a storm cloud.
