Luna #3
“Thank you, Dante. I’ll get you some pillows and blankets, and I believe I have a pair of pajama bottoms that would fit you,” I say, backing out of his hold on me.
I enter my bedroom closet, temporarily ignoring the mess in my room, and grab an extra blanket and a pillow.
I open my dresser and pull out my dad's plaid sleep pants. I ran my fingers over the tiny holes in the fabric. I remember Christmas morning one year when my dad burnt the turkey, and he got these holes in his pants from the ash that flew off the bird. I laugh to myself at the memory. It’s been so long since I’ve thought about them, and what I wouldn’t give to hear my dad’s voice right about now.
I return to the living room, handing the items to Dante, and he places them behind him on the couch. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I think I need to take a shower. I need to wash the icky feeling off. Are you okay with that?” I ask nervously, my adrenaline finally starting to wear off.
“Of course, Luna. This is your place. Do whatever you need. I’ll be here if you need me. I’ll make sure everything's locked up tight while you’re in there.”
I nod, taking a shaky breath, and go to the bathroom. I expect to see a disheveled mess, but everything is in its place instead. It looks untouched by the situation, which makes me angry.
I close the door and turn on the shower. The steam quickly fills the room as I slip out of my dress and into the shower. It’s not until I’m under the shower that I let the hot, angry tears flow.
I grab my washcloth, muffling my sobs as the gravity of the situation sinks in.
I have a fucking stalker.
I survived being trafficked. I survived being abused by my ex-boyfriend. And now—now I have a stalker. Perfect. Every moment I start to feel safe, life creeps back in to remind me that I wasn’t and will never be.
I swallow the anger down. I can’t lose it now. I’ve come too far.
My mind replays the night I left Greg. It was the middle of the night in the dead of winter.
I stood over his drugged body from the sleeping pills I slipped into his dinner that night.
He passed out in his chair in front of the TV, as he always did.
He was snoring, and the sound made my entire body tense.
I stood there, the knife gleaming in my hand from the glow of the TV, and the voice kept telling me to do it, to get it over with.
I wanted to kill him. I wanted to hurt him as he hurt me.
I wanted to watch him take his last breath.
The knife shook in my hand, and instead of driving it into his neck, I dropped it, choosing to flee instead.
The shower water turns icy, causing me to hiss and bringing me back to the present.
I shut off the water and stepped out of the shower.
“Maybe we could kill the stalker instead? The stalker is fair game, and brought this on themself. They couldn’t trace it back to you.
” I open my medicine cabinet, sloppily grab my sleeping pills, and shove two in my mouth.
I close it again, wiping the condensation off the mirror.
I stare at myself, black mascara running down my face.
I take a makeup wipe and start smearing it over my tear-stained face.
The voice isn’t real. It’s a manifestation of my mind that emerges during high-stress situations caused by my severe C-PTSD.
Sally says that it’s normal for people with severe trauma, and that I just need to remind myself that it’s not real.
“God, I’m so fucked up.” I grab my robe from the hook on the back of the door and tie the rope around my waist, cinching it closed.
I take a moment, breathing in and out, before I face Dante.
I feel so guilty about dragging him into this situation, regardless of what he says.
He doesn’t deserve to be thrown into my baggage headfirst.
I open the door after a few moments and find Binx curled up in Dante’s lap on the couch. I smile at the view of this scary-looking guy smitten with a tiny kitty. “He’s a lover,” I say, catching Dante’s attention.
“He and I have that in common.”
I try not to smile at his words, but fall short. I chew on my lip nervously. “Listen. Tonight was a lot, and I’m sure it's probably a lot for you. I understand if you want to change your mind and you want to leave.”
Dante moves Binx off his lap, meowing in protest, but that doesn’t stop Dante from crossing the room to me. “I’m not going anywhere, angel. You need me right now, and if I left my mother would rise from the grave and haunt me.”
“Your mom died?” I ask a bit too eagerly. Dante only nods. “Sorry. I only asked because both of my parents died when I was seventeen. Drunk Driver.”
“I’m very sorry to hear that. Do you know what happened?”
I nod, slumping into the couch, and Dante follows, sitting beside me.
“The police chief said it was a freak accident.
My parents were driving back home from a friend's house when a car on the opposite side of the interstate, traveling over a hundred miles per hour, hit an embankment, sending them over the guardrails and directly into my parents.
They died on impact. I was sleeping at a friend's house when it happened, and was woken up with cops at the door at 3 am, telling me I was parentless, and that CPS was there to take me away.”
Dante’s silent for a second before saying, “My dad was never in the picture. I knew who he was, but he was in and out of prison my entire childhood until he died in prison when I was a teen. My mom raised me until she was murdered when I was thirteen.”
I gasp. “Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry. What happened? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“Our neighbor murdered her. He never gave a reason. The evidence was lacking, but I knew he did it. He waited until I was at school, when I wasn’t there to protect her.” Dante clenches his fist, and I put my hand on his arm, rubbing my thumb on his forearm to let him know I get it.
“I’m so sorry. That must have been hard, never getting closure.”
“I grieved like any child, but it wasn’t all terrible.
My best friend Alex, from school, told his parents what happened, and they fostered me until they could adopt me.
Life had given me a second chance after the horrible hand I was dealt.
I owe everything I am today to Vin and Martha.
I wouldn’t be here without them.” I smile a sad smile.
This is supposed to be my second chance, but I guess the universe has other plans.
Dante notices my shift, capturing my chin, and tilting my face up to look at him.
“I promise I will ensure your apartment is top-notch safe before I leave tomorrow.”
I nod, but I know the truth. I will never be safe. Not while I’m running from my past. “If you want to shower, the hot water should be back by now. Towels are in the bathroom in the corner cabinet.”
Dante nods and heads to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Binx joins me on the couch, his loud purring filling the silence. I sit there, petting him until my eyes grow heavy, and the last thought on my mind is the knife gleaming in the glow of the TV.