A'S

before. The throbbing in my lower body was particularly sharp, and as I shifted under the sheets, the

ith each breath, his dark hair still slightly damp from the shower he must've taken before falling asleep. He looked pe

nst mine. I had been so numb last night, emotionally deadened by everything that had happened with Nathan. But now, in the pale morning

ke him. My legs wobbled beneath me, sore and weak, as I bent down to pick up the gown I had discarded on the floor last night. I pulled it over

tten about the money. For a moment, I stood there, staring at it, my mind racing. Six thousand dollars. It wasn't just a number

hed as I opened it, my heart pounding in my chest. I didn't want to look inside, didn't want to confirm what I already suspe

ed to throw it on the bed and walk away, but the other part-the part that was broken, the part that wanted to escape everything-was already calculati

lmost six in the morning, the sky outside just starting to lighten, the day not fully broke

hated myself for it, but I knew I was taking it. I had alre

ke an hour as I waited, terrified that he might wake up and come after me. But the elevator doors finally slid open with a sof

with anyone who might be around. I felt disgusting, like everyone who saw me would know exactly what I'd done. I wa

nic gripping me for a moment. She might have seen me coming in last night, or

if anyone asks about me, just tell them I had

e a curious look but no

cool, the city not fully awake yet, but I didn't stop. I didn't look back. I needed to get out of here, away from every

e. He didn't love me. And after last night, I didn't even recognize the person I had become. I was no lon

ghtly as I headed for the airport. I needed to leave, to disappear, to g

. I parked the car in the long-term lot and made my way inside, buying a ticket for the first avai

the engines lulling me into a strange, detached calm. I stared out the window, l

ed in my chest again, but this time with a mix of anxiety and relief. I was here. A new city. A ne

elt different. Lighter, maybe. Like I could breathe again. I made my way thro

looked at me through the rearview mirror

o go. "Anywhere but here," I said, my voice

ou're in LA, so you're alrea

nt somewhere fun or lively. I wanted somewhere quiet, somewhere I coul

estions. "Got it," he said, starting t

k in the seat, the weight of the envelope still he