Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
ROSE
The key shakes in my hand as I jam it into the ignition of my tiny red Corolla.
My vision blurs with tears, making the dashboard swim before me.
I’ve never been more grateful that I insisted on buying my own car.
I was close to selling my car since I worked from home, but now I’m glad that I didn’t.
My fingers fumble with the gearshift as I pull away from the curb, the house I once called home growing smaller in my rearview mirror.
I don’t look back. I can’t ever look back.
I press harder on the accelerator than necessary, the engine whining in protest as I speed down the quiet suburban street.
The tears come faster now, hot rivers streaking down my cheeks.
I swipe at them angrily with the back of my hand, but I can’t help the tears.
I tried to stay strong for years, but now I’m crying like a baby.
“Fuck you, Daniel,” I whisper to the empty car, my voice cracking. The mental image of him and his lover flashes across my mind. Daniel’s hands on her body, her legs wrapped around him, the way they laughed about me in their messages.
Almost a year. Almost a whole fucking year of lies while I begged him for a baby. And now I’m glad it didn’t happen. I can’t imagine what would happen if he were doing all this while I was pregnant.
A sob tears through me so violently that I have to pull over for a moment, my hands gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles turn white. The dashboard clock glows 1:43 a.m. in green digits.
Where am I supposed to go? What am I supposed to do now?
I rest my forehead against the steering wheel, allowing myself to cry until my tears run out.
I’d planned to call my family in the morning, maybe crash at their place for a few days while I figure my life out.
But right now, in the dark of night with my life in pieces around me, I can’t bear the thought of explaining to anyone what’s happened.
Can’t stomach the pity, the whispered “I told you so’s” from relatives who never thought Daniel was good enough for me.
Or worse, the ones who’ll blame me for not keeping my husband satisfied.
Wiping my tears with the sleeve of my sweater, I pull back onto the dark road.
The streets are almost empty at this hour, just the occasional car passing in the opposite direction. Taking random turns, I’m driving without any purpose. I don’t even know where I’m at anymore.
My mind keeps circling back to our fight and the look on his face when I told him I knew everything. He didn’t even care. He just looked annoyed at being caught and irritated at having to deal with my emotions.
Fresh tears sting my eyes, and I blink them away furiously. Even now, even after everything, his insults still hurt. Was that really how he saw me? Just some baby-obsessed woman who’d checked out of our marriage? The unfairness of it makes my blood boil.
I gave him everything, my best years and my dreams. I moved across the country for his job, away from my family and friends. I built my freelance career around his schedule. And all the while, he was building a life with someone else.
The gas gauge catches my eye, the needle hovering just above the quarter tank mark. My gas is nearly empty.
Another thing to worry about. I have no idea when I’ll be able to afford to fill it up again. My wallet contains exactly $63 in cash, one nearly maxed-out credit card, and a debit card linked to our joint account.
The realization that I’ve driven almost twenty minutes with no destination in mind finally sinks in.
I need to find somewhere to stay for the night, at least until I can make some calls in the morning.
A hotel is too expensive, and I can’t risk charging it to our joint account or my nearly maxed credit card.
I turn into a convenience store parking lot, pulling up to the far edge away from the fluorescent glare of the windows.
The lone employee inside doesn’t even look up from their phone as I sit there, engine idling, trying to come up with a plan.
My eyes feel gritty with exhaustion and dried tears, my head pounding from crying.
After buying a bottle of water, I drive another ten minutes until I find a small shopping plaza that’s completely dark, all the businesses closed for the night.
The parking lot is empty except for a couple of cars parked far apart—probably employees who leave their vehicles here overnight.
I pull into a spot between two light poles where it’s the darkest and turn the engine off.
The silence engulfs me immediately, broken only by the occasional passing car on the main road and the soft tick of my cooling engine.
I recline my seat as far as it will go, which isn’t far in my compact car. My neck already protests the awkward angle, but it’s better than nothing. I check that all the doors are locked, then wrap my arms around myself, suddenly aware of how cold it’s getting without the heater running.
I’ve never slept in my car before. It feels surreal, like this is not even real, and I’m living someone else’s life.
Just yesterday, I woke up in my bed, in my house, with a husband.
A husband who had just come home from fucking another woman, but I hadn’t known that then.
I’d made coffee and kissed his cheek and wondered why he seemed so distant.
I’d thought he’d finally open up, finally tell me what was wrong so we could fix it together.
What a fucking joke.
My body shivers, whether from cold or shock, I’m not sure. I reach into the backseat, fumbling until I find the emergency blanket I keep there
The thin foil blanket crackles as I unfold it over myself. It’s not comfortable, but it’s better than nothing. I curl my legs up as much as the confined space allows, trying to preserve body heat.
A car passes on the main road, its headlights sweeping across my face. For a moment, I’m terrified it might be Daniel, that he’s somehow tracked me down. But the car continues on, oblivious to my presence, oblivious to my pain.
I close my eyes, but sleep feels impossible. Every time I start to drift off, I see Daniel’s face and the words he said. I’ll never forget the text messages I saw between him and Katherine every time I close my eyes.
My stomach twists with nausea. I crack the window slightly, letting in a rush of cool night air that helps clear my head. The moon peeks through the scattered clouds, casting silver light across the empty parking lot.
How did I miss it? How did I not see what was happening right in front of me?
The late nights at work, the distant behavior, the way he’d pull away when I tried to touch him.
It all makes such perfect sense now, like puzzle pieces finally clicking into place.
I wasn’t paranoid, needy, or overly sensitive.
I was right. There was something wrong.
Tomorrow, I’ll have to start rebuilding my life from scratch. Find a place to live, hire a divorce lawyer, figure out how to untangle five years of marriage. The task seems impossible, mountainous.
But tonight, there’s nothing I can do but wait for the morning. I pull the blanket tighter around my shoulders, trying to find a comfortable position in the driver’s seat. My eyelids grow heavier despite the discomfort, exhaustion finally winning out over adrenaline and heartbreak.
As I drift toward sleep, a strange sense of peace washes over me. For some reason, I feel free. The marriage never felt right to me from the beginning. I feel free from the mechanical love we had.
A deafening bang jolts me awake.
My eyes fly open to darkness and confusion, heart instantly racing as another crash rattles my tiny car.
I blink rapidly, disoriented, the emergency blanket tangled around my legs.
Two dark figures hover outside my passenger window, silhouetted against the distant glow of a street lamp.
Another bang—they’re hitting my window with something heavy.
I suddenly realize that I’m under attack.
“Hey!” I scream. “Stop!”
They pound on the car windows harder. My heart races as I quickly wake up out of my sleep.
They’re wearing black ski masks with crude eye holes that make them look like robbers from all the movies I’ve ever watched. One of them is holding a hammer, bringing it down against the passenger window with massive force.
My hand fumbles desperately for the keys still dangling from the ignition.
I need to start the car and get out of here.
My fingers close around the key ring, but they’re trembling so violently that I can’t get a proper grip.
The keys slip from my grasp, falling somewhere into the darkness between the seats.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I whimper, my hands scrabbling blindly for the keys as another thunderous blow hits the window.
The glass cracks further, making me jump in my chair.
My breath comes in shallow gasps, my chest tight with terror. I find the keys wedged between the seat and center console, but when I try to jam them into the ignition, my shaking hands betray me again.
The key scrapes uselessly against the metal around the keyhole.
“Please,” I whisper. “Please, please, please.”
The next blow is different—a sickening crash followed by the tinkling sound of breaking glass. The passenger window gives way, and cold night air rushes in along with the reaching arm of one of the masked men.
His hand fumbles for the door lock as I shriek in ultimate terror.
The key finally slides into the ignition just as I hear the distinctive click of my door unlocking. I turn the key frantically, the engine grinding but not catching. Panic clogs my throat as the passenger door is yanked open and one of the men starts climbing in, his bulk taking up the entire seat.
“Get out of the fucking car, bitch,” he growls, his voice muffled by the mask but unmistakably threatening.
The engine finally roars to life, but before I can shift into drive, the man lunges across the center console. His gloved hand closes around my throat, making my vision blur at the edges, the harder he squeezes. With his other hand, he reaches past me and pushes open my door.
The second man appears at my open door, his masked face inches from mine. “Out,” he demands, grabbing my arm and yanking hard.
I cling to the steering wheel with both hands, my knuckles white with effort. “No! This is my car! Get out!”
The man inside the car pries my fingers from the wheel one by one while his partner pulls me from the other side. I kick and thrash, landing a solid hit to someone’s shin that earns me a vicious slap across the face. The blow stuns me just long enough for them to drag me halfway out of the car.
“Let me go!” I shriek, my nails clawing at anything I can reach. I’m trying to grab the dashboard, the door frame, or the arm of the man pulling me. “Help! Somebody help me!”
But there’s no one to help me. The parking lot is deserted, the nearest businesses closed and dark.
The man behind me gives a brutal shove. I stumble forward, then fall hard, my shoulder hitting the pavement first with a sickening pop that sends white-hot agony shooting through my entire body.
I scream again, but this time from pain rather than fear.
Something is terribly wrong with my shoulder, and it feels like it’s been ripped from its socket, like bones are grinding against each other in ways they shouldn’t.
The impact jars my head too, my temple bouncing off the rough asphalt with enough force to make stars explode behind my eyes.
I lie there, stunned and broken, as one of the men jumps into the driver’s seat of my car.
The engine revs loudly, tires squealing as they back out of the parking space. The second man runs around to the passenger side, climbing in just before the car lurches forward.
My car disappears into the night with a final roar of the engine.
I try to push myself up with my good arm, but dizziness washes over me in waves. My shoulder throbs with such intensity that I can hardly think through the pain. Each breath I take sends a fresh pulse of agony radiating outward from the joint.
“Fuck,” I whisper, tears streaming down my face. “Oh god, oh god.”
I’m alone in an empty parking lot in the middle of the night with a dislocated shoulder and possibly a concussion. My car is gone. My phone was in it as well as my wallet. Everything I had left in the world just drove away with those men.
The asphalt is cold and rough against my cheek. I should get up, should find help, but the pain keeps me pinned in place. My heart pounds so hard I can feel it in my fingertips, in my temples, in the hollow of my throat.
My breath comes in ragged sobs.
“I’ll be fine,” I tell myself, the words escaping between hitched breaths.
But I know it’s a lie. Nothing about this situation is fine.
I’m injured and alone, without transportation, without a way to call for help.
On top of discovering my husband’s affair and leaving my home, I’ve now been violently carjacked.
It feels like the universe is determined to strip everything from me in a single night.
“Rose?”
Am I imagining voices right now? This is impossible. But then I hear footsteps approaching rapidly, and with enormous effort, I turn my head to look up.
Caspian the robot stands above me, his perfect features etched with concern in the dim light.