Chapter 9
Kelly
Itossed and turned all night, maybe got forty minutes of actual sleep before my alarm went off. At that point, I would’ve welcomed someone breaking in and shoving a pillow over my face. At least then I’d have gotten some rest.
I can’t stop replaying Alexei’s visit last night. There’s just something about him that I can’t shake. I want to hug him again. Wish he’d hugged me back. Felt needy as hell when he didn’t.
I don’t think he’s ever let himself get close to anyone. I doubt he even has friends outside his family. The way he petted and held Clover so carefully, as if he was afraid of breaking her, plays in my head. Nonstop.
I wonder what this is between us. There’s no explanation for why we keep gravitating toward each other. It terrifies me. I can’t shake the feeling that we’re two people who’d given up on connection and stumbled into each other in the worst possible way.
I exhale and rub my temples. Loneliness does things to a person. Makes you desperate. I’ve been isolated for so long that maybe I’m just grasping at any sign of human connection, building castles out of nothing.
The rational part of my brain knows I should stay far away from him.
But the part that’s been aching for months keeps circling back to last night.
Every look, every pause, every moment he actually shared something real about himself.
I want it to mean something so badly it hurts.
He probably doesn’t think about me at all, and here I am spiraling over every word he said.
I wish he didn’t have to leave so abruptly.
His phone’s always going off, pulling him away mid-conversation.
Whatever he does clearly doesn’t allow for downtime.
I try not to think too hard about what kind of work demands that level of constant availability.
He’s admitted to killing people. I can connect the dots even if I don’t want to.
“Kelly!”
The grating, nasal shriek of Gary’s voice cuts across the clinic like nails on glass and makes my left eye twitch. I brace myself for whatever fresh hell he’s about to dump on me.
“Yes?” I say, trying not to sound like I want to rip my own face off.
I will not lose my cool today; I absolutely will not.
He stomps over with that awkward, stretched-out height and gray caterpillar eyebrows that have never met a pair of tweezers.
He could spend five minutes in front of a mirror and still look like an angry baked potato, but that’s not even the problem since his personality is what makes him truly ugly.
“Have you taken care of the inventory?” he barks. “And the new tool shipment? And Mrs. Chen’s Chihuahua appointment at two?”
I clench my jaw. I am a licensed veterinarian. Not a delivery boy, not a receptionist, not his personal intern who jumps at every demand.
“Yes, Gary,” I mutter, trying not to grind my teeth. “Inventory’s done, tools are unpacked, and Mrs. Chen’s appointment is in twenty minutes.”
He snorts. “People these days have no respect for time, no concept of accountability. I don’t know what’s happened to the world.”
Here we go with another rant.
“She’s not even late yet.”
He glares at me. “She will be. They always are. This is why society is crumbling, because people think rules don’t apply to them. We should put a sign out front that says five minutes late, appointment canceled, still get charged.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose while he keeps ranting about something that has absolutely nothing to do with dogs or tools or reality in general.
Camilla appears behind him. She makes a small circling motion next to her ear and points straight at Gary’s back.
I clamp my mouth shut to keep from laughing.
She mouths good luck and disappears before he can turn around.
Gary’s still ranting when I slip away. I need to check on the animals in recovery and grab coffee before Mrs. Chen gets here.
Twenty minutes later, I’m washing my hands at the sink in the break room when Camilla pokes her head in. “Mrs. Chen and Dolly are ready in room five.”
“Thanks,” I say, drying my hands.
I step into the exam room and find an elderly woman in her eighties with soft gray curls tucked under a wool hat and pearl earrings that catch the overhead light. She’s got a little Chihuahua sitting on the metal table, watching me with suspicious dark eyes.
“Is this Dolly?” I let the dog sniff my outstretched hand cautiously.
“Yes, dear, sorry we’re a bit behind. There was construction on every corner, and the taxi driver was grumbling the whole time. I don’t even know what they’re trying to fix anymore because the roads are all cracked anyway.”
I smile. “No worries. I’m Kelly.”
“Oh, I know, sweetie. Camilla told me about you.”
I give Dolly another gentle scratch behind the ear before starting the exam. I don’t like Chihuahuas much. They’re tiny, but they bite like little demons. One nearly took my finger off last year. Dolly seems calm enough, just watching me with those dark eyes.
“The chart said she’s ten with a heart murmur, been managing it with medication. Any changes in her activities lately?”
The woman hums. “She’s a little slower getting around, but she still bosses me around just fine.”
I check Dolly’s ears and eyes. Listen to her heartbeat with my stethoscope, then feel under her belly for any masses or tender spots. Her legs move fine when I check her joints. Her breathing sounds stable. For a ten-year-old Chihuahua with heart problems, she’s doing pretty damn well.
The visit goes quickly. I wave them off, then head back to the cramped office to stare at the mountain of paperwork waiting on my desk. I groan into the scattered papers.
Can this day please be over already?
I put on my helmet and push my bike down the alley beside the clinic. The rain’s light, more mist than downpour. The wind cuts straight through my jacket and hits my face like tiny needles.
I sigh and swing my leg over the seat and take off. Every muscle in my body aches. I just want to get home, curl up in bed, and forget this day ever existed.
I take the usual route, cutting through side streets to avoid the worst traffic. My brain won’t shut up. It keeps circling back to him, his face. I must’ve sat in the break room for twenty minutes staring into my coffee, completely checked out.
I spot my building in the distance and let out a breath of relief. It’s getting dark fast. I shift lanes slightly, staying off the sidewalk so I don’t accidentally plow through some poor dog walker. My legs and back hurt, and I just want to be home and safe.
A sound hits behind me, engine noise getting closer.
Then something slams into my back tire. The handlebars rip out of my hands. I hit face-first into the asphalt. My helmet slams sideways. My cheek scrapes across the rough street. Pain shoots through every part of my body. My breath locks up like my lungs forgot how to work.
I just groan and roll onto my back, trying to breathe. It feels like there’s a knife lodged in my chest. I don’t even know if I’m moving or if the street is spinning around me.
“What do you think, Mendez? You think we hit him hard enough?”
I know that voice. I’d recognize it even if I were dying. Don’t even have to guess who’s standing over me.
Two men in uniform stand above me with matching smirks.
Mendez shrugs like he’s considering the question seriously. “Nah, could’ve gone a little faster. Might’ve gotten more airtime that way.”
I want to cry. My whole body feels like it’s been torn apart and stapled together wrong. My wrists ache, my ribs feel crushed. I don’t know if it’s blood or rain or both. I won’t cry, not in front of him.
David. My ex.
Six months since I tried to file the restraining order after he snapped my arm like a goddamn twig.
That was just the last time. There were so many other times before that, so many bruises I covered with long sleeves, so many excuses I made for why I couldn’t go out or why I was walking funny or why I jumped when people moved too fast around me.
I sat in the ER and lied through my teeth while the nurses asked me over and over again if it was just a fall or something else. Because what was I supposed to say?
That I’d been letting someone hurt me for two years? That I’d convinced myself it was love when he said he was sorry afterward? That I believed him when he said it was my fault for making him angry?
I thought filing the restraining order would make it stop. Instead, I learned exactly how powerless I really was.
The paperwork got lost, then misfiled, then lost again. Suddenly, nobody could find my statements. The photos of my injuries mysteriously disappeared from the system.
It’s been months of him making sure I knew he was untouchable. Following me just because he could. Showing up at places he knew I’d be because who was I going to call?
The police? His friends? His colleagues who’d already made it clear they thought I was just some hysterical ex trying to ruin a good man’s career?
The system isn’t broken. It’s working exactly the way it’s supposed to; just not for people like me.
He spits next to my face. “Been a long time, Kelly. You been good?”
My throat burns, and my whole chest feels caved in. Every breath hurts, and every second stretches like torture.
A woman’s voice cuts through the haze, her boots clicking on the sidewalk. “Jesus, is he okay? What happened?”
David straightens up and switches on that professional tone. “We’re handling it, ma’am. Saw him fall off his bike, pulled over to check on him.”
She hesitates. Doubt flickers in her eyes, but then she nods and hurries away.
I glance at their squad car with the lights off. My bike lies crumpled on the ground next to it.
David crouches next to me, smirking. “You’ve got a bit of blood here.” He gestures near my chin with mock concern. “What do you think, Mendez? Should we help him up?”
“Or charge him,” Mendez chimes in. “No working lights on his bike, and it’s dark. We could’ve hit him worse. Not really our fault he’s riding unsafe.”
“Please stop, David.” My voice barely makes it past my lips.
He leans in closer with fake confusion plastered across his face. “Stop what? We’re just doing our jobs here. I mean, you could’ve seriously hurt someone riding in the dark with no light. Kinda reckless, don’t you think?”
He pauses, then snaps his fingers like he just remembered something important. “Speaking of reckless, those parking tickets you’ve been ignoring. That’s not very responsible, Kelly.”
Mendez snorts. “Bet he’s still sleeping in that shoebox apartment, can’t afford a damn bulb for his bike.”
All of a sudden, their hands are on me, one gripping each elbow as they haul me upright. They drag me up to the sidewalk, and pain shoots through my arms straight to my ribs. I almost black out right there. The street tilts sideways. They tighten their grip like they’re trying to prove a point.
David’s fingers dig into my elbow, pressing exactly where the break was.
Mendez walks over to my bike, lifts it with one hand, then hurls it down at my feet.
The front wheel twists wrong, and the light is crushed beyond repair, just like everything else they touch.
Mendez climbs into the cruiser. Leaving me alone with the devil in uniform.
David grabs my arm too hard. Pain shoots down my entire arm, making me gasp and nearly double over.
“You know, Kelly,” he says, voice dropping low and intimate. “You really need to get your shit together. This is getting pathetic. Who knows what I might have to do next time? Maybe get a doctor to take a look at you because you’ve clearly been neglecting your health.”
He taps two fingers against his temple mockingly. “Mental health’s important, you know, and you haven’t been right since your mommy died. Maybe we should give you a ride to the loonie bin, let the real professionals take a look at what’s wrong with you.”
My stomach turns violently. I just stare at him and those cold blue eyes that used to look at me with something I thought was love.
He lets go of my arm, and I immediately yank it back, cradling it against my chest protectively.
“Y-you need to leave me alone,” I stutter, my voice completely wrecked. “I’ll r-report you again.”
He laughs like I just told the funniest joke he’s ever heard. “Yeah? That worked out real well the first time, didn’t it? You lying about me breaking your arm? Everyone knows you probably did it yourself because you needed the attention. Poor little Kelly, all alone after Mommy croaked.”
My bottom lip trembles. I bite down on it hard, shaking my head.
I try to step past him. I don’t want to be near him; I can’t handle this right now.
I just want to go home. Just want this nightmare to stop.
My bike isn’t even worth picking up; it’s destroyed and beyond any hope of repair. Just like me.
He doesn’t follow me. Instead, he laughs while I limp away from him.
I used to think I was stronger than this. That I could survive anything. Now I know survival isn’t the same as living. I’m still breathing, still moving forward. But all the pieces that used to fit together are scattered behind me, and I don’t know how to put them together anymore.