I can’t stop crying.
I feel so stupid.
So goddamn foolish.
My palm roughly wipes at my neck, the tears trickling all the way down past my cheeks, before I pull my largest duffel bag out of the closet.
He told me. He freaking told me that he wasn’t a good man. And like an idiot, I believed everything out of his mouth, except for that.
Brushing away more tears, I start with the essentials by emptying the contents of my underwear drawer into the duffel.
He told me he’d lie and cheat to keep me safe. He said it, just like that, but I didn’t put it together. Not really. Because, to me, being with another woman doesn’t keep me safe. It breaks my heart.
I take a second to press my fist against my chest, like it might lessen the ache inside my ribs.
It doesn’t.
My eyes won’t cooperate, the tears keep coming, but I keep packing.
I can’t stay here.
I don’t want to go. But I can’t stay.
Life is hard enough without constantly looking over your shoulder.
I should know. I did it for years. Hell, I still break into a sweat when I see someone that looks like Arthur. The thought of him showing up on my doorstep is no less terrifying today than it was ten years ago.
I don’t really believe that Nero would kill me. Not himself. But if he decides I’m a loose end… Or if one of his enemies saw me tonight… It won’t matter to them that Nero doesn’t care about me. They’ll just kill me themselves when they find out I’m worthless.
No. I won’t just sit around and wait.
At least this time I’m an actual adult and I have a little more money saved. Not a lot––hardly anything really––but it’s enough to buy a bus ticket out of the state and stay in a cheap rent-by-the-week hotel for a month while I find another job and start collecting a paycheck.
My hands pause in the act of opening my pajama drawer. Maybe I can see the Grand Canyon after all. Arizona is about as far away as you can get from Minnesota without going to a coast. Plus, coasts are expensive; some small town in the southwest, with a diner that needs help, would be as perfect as my version of perfect can get.
With any luck, I’ll never see Nero or Arthur again in my life.
My lips tremble, and I press them together.
I keep telling myself that not seeing Nero is what I want. And that the thought of never seeing him again doesn’t make me feel like I’m going to die.
I pull the drawer open and start plucking out my pajamas. I buried the silk pair at the bottom of the drawer––the ones I was wearing the night Nero took my virginity––and as I pull the layers above away, I wonder if I should throw them in the garbage. Seeing them will only cause me pain.
But when I get to the bottom of the drawer, I don’t find the shorts and top. Instead, I find two crisp hundred-dollar bills.
The sobs come in earnest now.
This feels dirty.
Feels like he’s paying me off, like I’m some sort of prostitute, and nothing more.
It only takes thinking the word, before snippets of the night start to melt together.
The ultra-short dresses. The security guard’s comment “most women are here as a plus one”. The noticeable age difference, and attractiveness difference, of so many couples.
Could they be…?
But then there was Nero. He was perfectly matched by that woman. Both stunning. Both extremely well dressed. Poised. Fit.
I take a step back, until I can feel the bed behind me, and slump down to sit on the mattress. The sore spot on my butt––where I hit it on those stone steps––makes itself known. But it’s nothing compared to the pain I feel on the inside.
Feeling more defeated than I have in a long time, I lay on the bed and curl up on my side.
I’m still in this ridiculous dress, the one I felt so proud of only hours ago. But now it feels as fake as Nero’s promises.
I clasp my hands together in front of my mouth, the sequins around the neckline and sleeves scratching against my skin, but I don’t have the energy to take it off.
Instead, I let my eyes slide closed.
I made sure the doors were locked when I got home. I even dragged the couch across the living room, positioning it against the front door. But I’m not really that worried about Nero coming to me tonight, it’s his birthday and he’s celebrating.
No, it won’t be tonight, but it’ll be soon. Which is why I’ll leave before morning.
I just need to rest my eyes for a few minutes.
