“I don’t care if I get shot. Or run down. Or if he hunts me like a dog. I don’t care if he breaks every bone in my body when he finds me. I’m leaving this f*****g hellhole tonight.”
She was pacing now. Half dressed. The tank top clung to her t**s like second skin, no bra beneath, her n*****s hardened. The denim of her jeans scratched between her thighs, too rough on her still-throbbing p***y, but she didn’t slow. Let it burn. Let it hurt.
“I should’ve left the first night,” she spat, yanking open the drawer and shoving her things into a bag. “The second he put his filthy f*****g fingers on me. The second he whispered ‘good girl’ while choking me with the same hands he used to murder people.”
Her hands shook as she stuffed in the little money she had. Her phone. Her ID. Nothing else.
“N
