One can never tell.
Better to be prepared than not.
Once I’m dressed and wash my face and brush my teeth, I lie down in bed and fall right to sleep. Tomorrow, I’ll think about sending the money back.
* * *
With each step I take, the darkness pulls me in. Engulfing me into the abyss like two strong arms grasping and holding me prisoner.
No matter how much I try to see, I can’t, and I know where I am. I’m stuck in this nightmare.
This isn’t real, the voice inside my head screams, but no matter how hard I tell myself to wake up from the hell, I can’t.
I find myself walking the familiar hallway toward the light in the distance.
Closer.
Closer.
I know what I’ll find. I know what I’ll hear. The hardwood floor beneath my feet squeaks as I make my way toward the light. Again, I’m standing in front of it, and again, the door is slightly ajar. I can’t see who is inside, but I can hear his voice. Clear as day.
And I know exactly what he’s going to say . . .
Desperately, I let out a strangled cry. Anything to push it away. I don’t want to hear.
Wake up!
With a jolt, I awake in my bed, shaking my head to push the nightmare away. Early morning sunshine streams in through the windows. I went to bed way too late for the bright light peeking in through my lids.
That’s one problem with staying in a living room—well, besides the nightmares, and I’m certain I’d be getting those even if I was sleeping on twenty mattresses, princess and the pea style—and that’s the fact there are no curtains.
I probably should spring for some and hang them myself, but seeing as it’s not my place, and money is tight, I don’t want to impose. Sure, I have cash saved up for an emergency, but I’m certain no one considers sleeping an emergency.
Lifting my hand, I rub the sleep from my eyes, and then I stretch my arms above me.
Once every bit of the nightmare has left my body, I stand and pad into the bathroom to do my morning business.
A few minutes later, I’m making coffee, and decide that once it’s done, I’ll head over to the post office. As I wait for it to brew, I open the cabinet and look for an envelope. Lucky for me, not only do I find envelopes but also stamps. I grab a piece of paper and fold it in half, and then pull out a fifty from my tips and tuck it into the paper for safety.
I don’t leave a note. I’m sure he’ll know exactly who it’s from. I address and stamp it and then wait for my coffee to finish.
When it is, I grab a to-go cup, pour the hot liquid in it, and head out the door, money and drink in hand.
Today is colder than yesterday. Strands of my hair that have escaped my hat whip against my face as I walk. It’s not far to the mailbox, but far enough that even the short distance is too long in this weather. I probably could have left it with the mail in the building, but I don’t like the idea that it could be stamped from Maggie’s address as the pickup spot. I can’t take the chance that someone could track me. Not that I think anyone would consider looking for me at Maggie’s place, but you can never be too careful.
That’s what I tell myself as I’m freezing my ass off on my trek to the post office.
With eyes watering and hair flying, I make it to my location and drop the envelope in the bin, then I set off to go back home.
Chapter Nine
Jaxson
The weekend is finally over, and the workweek is in full swing, which also means I’m back in my office, unfortunately. When I told my siblings I wanted to do this, I didn’t really think this through. I’m tired after a long weekend and want nothing more than to hang in my apartment and work from my couch.
But I guess there is one thing I want more. Respect. Which is why at the ungodly hour of five a.m., I’m waking up and not going to bed.
Because let’s be honest, in my former life—a month ago before the gauntlet was dropped—I’d be strolling into my apartment right now, girl for the night in tow, as opposed to throwing on sweats to hit the gym, then showering and going to work like an adult.
My arm raises, and my fingers scrub at my eyes, willing them to open. Adulting sucks.
Once I can finally see, I get up from my bed, head to the bathroom, and do all the shit I need to start my day. Then I hit my gym. I live in a sick building in Tribeca. And not just an apartment. I own the whole building and downstairs is the gym. Upstairs is where I live. With exposed brick and metal beams, it’s perfect for me.