Page 163 of Wrench

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the past twelve hours overflowed my body; horrifying images of guns pressed to my spine

and telling Isaac not to speak to me again.

Spitting out a mouthful of water and tears, I asked myself out loud, ¡°What did you

expect?¡±

I had no idea.

I just really liked him.

I thought we had a connection.

¡°Stupid,¡± I said. Why was I even surprised? I asked for this.

Isaac was nicknamed after an incident where he nearly murdered a man with a

wrench. He was a part of a motorcycle club. I was literally threatened to stay away from

him. It took all the flags to be reddened by blood before I realized just how dangerous he

really was.

If he was so dangerous, why did I hurt so much? Shouldn¡¯t I be relieved to have this

menace off my shoulders? Why did I want to run back to the Tavern and tell him that¡­

that I never knew anyone could make me feel as free as me made me? That for the first

time I felt appreciated for simply being myself¡­

Would that ever come again?

¡°It doesn¡¯t matter,¡± I thought out loud. It didn¡¯t matter if I was taken or alone, being

with Isaac wasn¡¯t an option. I¡¯d wind up murdered by those atrocious men. All their eyes

followed me, distrustfully. They hadn¡¯t even met me before and they threatened me, I¡¯d

never feel safe with Isaac knowing they resented me so much. It would never work out.

Turning off the shower, I threw on a scratchy bathrobe that was originally white, but

now yellowed by cigarette smoke. Lying in bed, I glanced at the red alarm clock digits

taunting me with ¡°7:09 AM¡±. I knew it¡¯d be one of those days where I slept until supper

time.

Letting my eyes flutter shut, I let myself take comfort in imaginations of Isaac¡¯s big,

warm arms hugging me under the stars.

Ring. Ring. Ri¡ª

Half asleep, I silenced my phone.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

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