Page 25 of Deeply Examined

I put it to my ear and whisper, “Hey, I can’t talk right now.”

Before I hang up, Dr. West interjects, “Listen, if this is about last time, I can explain.”

“No, no. It’s not that,” I whisper, ignoring the creak of wood from my living room. If I don’t hurry, Brad’s going to break down the door.

“What then? Why are you whispering?” he demands. I don’t have to see his face to know he’s scowling.

“Jessica!” Brad bellows so loudly I hear it through the bathroom door.

“What’s that racket?” asks Dr. West. “What’s going on?”

“It’s my neighbor, Brad,” I admit as I peek around the door frame and peer down the hallway. “He’s drunk and trying to get into my place.”

“What!?” Dr. West exclaims.

“I think I need to call the police, but I don’t really want to,” I babble. “What if it causes a big scene, and the school finds out? If they think I’m involved in something unsavory, they might fire me.” Saying it out loud pierces through the denial that was keeping me calm. I’m in trouble, and the reality of it brings a choked sob up my throat. Tears prick the corners of my eyes.

“I’m going to kill you, you stuck-up bitch!” screams Brad, so loudly that even Dr. West must hear it.

In an eerily calm voice, Dr. West says, “Jessica, I want you to go into your bathroom and lock the door. Stay in there, no matter what you hear, until I call you.” There’s rustling sounds, and I can tell he’s on the move. “What apartment does Brad live in? What number?”

“A13. It’s downstairs,” I reply, sniffling. Tears leak from my eyes and race down my cheeks. “I’m scared.”

“I know you are, but don’t worry. I’m on my way. Everything’s going to be just fine.”

I heave a shuddering sob. “Hurry, please.”

“I will. Be my brave girl now and lock the door. Okay?”

I do as he asks and shut myself in the bathroom. After I hang up, I crawl into the cold porcelain bathtub and pull the shower curtain closed. The flimsy fabric wouldn’t stop Brad for a second, but it hides me, gives me a false sense of security.

Brad continues to rant and rave outside. He sounds unhinged, like he’s lost his mind.

Terror claws the pit of my stomach. My imagination supplies every horrific scenario that might happen if Brad reaches me. Throat tight, I bury my face in my crossed arms and cry.

Adam

I floor the gas, the needle climbing past one hundred, but I barely notice. Jessica’s whispered, terror-stricken voice plays on a loop in my mind, each word slicing through me like a blade. Fifteen minutes. That’s all that separates her apartment from my condo, but it feels like an eternity—a torturous stretch of time where anything could happen to her.

A dark, all-consuming need grips me to protect her, shield her, and destroy anyone who dares to harm her. No one will touch her. Not while I’m breathing.

God knows, I’ve been there—cornered, broken, betrayed. I know the hollow ache of fear, the scars it leaves. I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure she never feels that pain.

Knuckles white, I clench the steering wheel and fly through the last red light, narrowly avoiding a honking truck. My wheels squeal on the pavement as I slide into a parking space in Jessica’s lot.

Brad’s hollering penetrates my car before I even have a chance to step out of it. Rage colors my vision red when I see him angrily hammering on her door with both fists. I check for security cameras as I walk up. Of course, there aren’t any. In my neighborhood, if something like this happened, the perpetrator would be filmed from five different angles and the police would arrive within minutes.

Not here, though. This asshole has been making a ruckus for over twenty minutes and not a single person has stuck their head out to see what’s going on. No one’s offered to help. There’s fear here. People cowering behind closed doors, just glad it’s not happening to them.

I hate it.

Hate that this is where she lives.

The lack of cameras is in my favor now. No one to watch how I’m going to deal with this guy.

A grim smile touches my lips.

Brad’s so focused on reaching Jessica that he doesn’t hear me come up behind him. I grab him by the back of his collar and haul him away, like an errant schoolboy about to be taken to the principal’s office. He sputters, swiping behind him with ineffectual punches that I dodge easily.

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