12. Late Again
Chapter twelve
Late Again
Astoria
Memories of all that Julian did to me slowly trickled into clarity through nightmares. I kept waking up, screaming, thinking he was back and using my body for his pleasure again. The last time he did that to me wasn't the first. I looked it up. It’s possible to drug someone into a semi-paralyzed state but keep them aware of what’s happening.
Sick bastard.
It became difficult to stay in the present and deal with life. At work, I kept myself busy, but once I got home… I was a terrified mess. How I could get a wink of sleep was a mystery, especially in the home he invaded to rape me repeatedly. Eventually, I had no choice but to move in with Mindy, but after two weeks, I couldn’t handle continuing to disturb her life. I felt I was standing in her way, even though she never indicated such a thing. I wanted to give her and Fernando privacy, so I returned to the house I’d been living in.
At the hint of any noise, I'd scream. I avoided going home for as many hours as possible, considered going to a shelter but decided against it. It was a rough few days while I searched for affordable homes on my work computer. Since he’d done something to my phone and laptop, I didn’t want to risk searching there. Knowing I was at least trying to find a way out of this mess helped me come to terms with things.
For the first time in my life, I was glad barely owned anything. The day I moved, I only took my clothes and what little make-up and hair products I had. With all that in Mindy’s trunk, we drove off. Two blocks away, I asked her to stop and I threw away my phone at the gas station.
It’s been two months since I last saw Julian, and one month since I moved. It’s like a second chance at life. The college vibe around my new place cheers me up. Even Mindy tells me I’m looking, sounding, and behaving more like myself again. Hopefully, killing Jeremy made Julian realize how off the rails he was or maybe he’s too busy hiding from the police to think of me. A part of me doubts it, but it's the only way I can move on with my life.
Today, I have that second appointment with Dr. Michaelson, so I rush through everything at work to leave early. This time, I want to be as professional as possible with him. I don’t want him to feel uncomfortable with me, thinking I’m seeking special attention, by arriving late. So I finish three accounts in half the usual time and at five-thirty, I pack.
“Astoria?” my boss calls.
Fuck. “Yes?”
“Could you come in here for a minute?”
Two minutes later, I walk in and close the door behind me. He doesn’t even allow me to move from the door before raising his voice to ask, “What is the meaning of this?”
“Those are the accounts you wanted me to check again for mistakes. There were two, but I fixed them.”
“No. No, you didn’t.”
“Sir, the first account had a transfer unaccounted for three months ago and then again this month. This account is not even registering half of the expenses, so I adjusted it to the right amount.”
“Show me.”
A sigh escapes me and I walk to his side of the desk to show him on his computer screen. We go over every detail of both accounts. By the time we’re done, it’s six o’clock.
I run out of his office, then the building, and right onto the last bus that could get me there on time. While standing in what feels like a moving can of sardines, I roll my eyes and sigh, frustrated with myself, because I should have just taken the day off so I wouldn’t miss this appointment. I’m stuck in traffic when it starts raining. Great. I’m going to arrive late again.