I picked law school so I wouldn't be constantly cast as the disposable victim. I wanted to be the hero in my own story, convicting the bad guy and giving a sense of closure to the wronged. I was tired of being the victim.
I'd worn gloves and jeans as protection against all the broken glass. With trash bag in hand, I filled it with pieces of furniture, books and personal items that were beyond repair. Over a dozen bags later I found myself staring at a box with precious little left of my life. A few pictures, my jewelry (most of it cheap stuff I'd gotten at various farmers markets), and on top of it all the now-unframed and slightly scratched portrait of me with my parents. I couldn't tell if the creep or the police had taken anything else, and I didn't know if they'd found anything that could help catch the guy who did this, but at least I still had a few things that mattered to me.
Growing up in foster care, I'd learned fast to live light, keeping only what I could carry in a box or suitcase from one family to the next. As I left my apartment that day, I felt like that fifteen-year-old girl with long brown pigtails, wearing a hand-me-down dress too big for my small frame, carrying a box to my new temporary home.
I'd been luckier than most. I'd never been beaten or raped—horror stories I heard from other girls I'd lived with. A few parents were even kind and good, but none were permanent. None replaced the parents I'd lost that night.
And so I eventually stopped crying myself to sleep at night. Stopped dreaming of them coming back to save me. Stopped believing anyone would save me. I learned I had to save myself. That I could only depend on one person, and that was me.
I was still that fifteen-year-old in so many ways.
As I locked up the apartment and picked up the box from the stoop, I heard the scuffle of feet behind me and turned in time to notice someone in a black hoodie disappear behind the building. My heart pounded in my chest, and I checked around to see if anyone else had seen him, but I was alone.
The hair on the back of my neck stood on end, a shiver ran down my spine. I carried the box to Bridgette's car, and couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching me, but each time I turned around to check—nothing.
It took another thirty minutes to take all of the trash bags to the dumpster and check in with the property management office. I didn't know the protocol for this kind of thing. I had to move out, but I would lose my entire deposit with the shape the apartment was in.
The bells over the door rang as I stepped into the warm office and kicked the snow off my feet. When Martha noticed me, she came out, a sympathetic smile on her heart-shaped face. "The police were here. I'm so sorry."
"Thanks. I have to move. I feel awful with the state of the apartment."
She waved away my concern. "You've been an excellent tenant and the police explained everything. We're not going to penalize you. But, your car was towed after being parked too long in a guest spot. I couldn't stop it, I'm sorry."
"I couldn't afford to fix it anyway, don't worry. Thanks for trying."
She handed me an envelope. "This might help. I couldn't get you the entire security deposit back, but I got you half."
It was more than I expected and I choked on tears as I hugged her. "Thank you. It does."
My vision clouded from the mix of emotions pouring through me as I stared at the envelope on the way to my car. I didn't see him until I'd nearly run into him.
He caught me by the shoulders. "Catelyn, you okay?"
I looked up into Ash's handsome face, his dimple subdued under his concerned frown. He smelled like leather and peppermint today and looked yummier than he had any right to. "I'm fine."
"I didn't realize you lived here," he said.
"I don't. Well, not anymore. I just moved out."
"Oh. Do you have a moving truck?" He glanced around.
"No. It's complicated. What are you doing here, anyway? Are you stalking me?" I asked the question in jest, but then remembered my feeling of being watched and took a step back. How well did I really know this guy? I'd run into him so randomly so many times. Who's to say he wasn't some weirdo who liked to follow girls around scaring them?
"I thought we covered this stalking business. I had some errands in this neighborhood. When I saw you come out of the office looking upset, being the knight in shining armor type, I came to see if I could help." He put on a charming smile that I'm sure melted girls everywhere, but I forced myself to stay frozen. If I melted I might never reform into something resembling myself again.
"I'm fine, but thank you for your concern. I really should be going." I walked toward the car, willing myself not to look back.
He reached for my arm and I turned, enjoying the feel of his hand more than I should. "We could be friends," he said, a sad look on his face.
I hesitated, not knowing what to say.
He took that as a sign and continued. "I'm not a bad guy, I swear it. Just give me a chance."
"What if I'm the bad one?" I asked, leaving him speechless as I got into the car and drove off.
Chapter Sixteen
Shopping Spree and Creeps