Page 181 of Unexpected Heroine

I don’t know the answer, but I hope we haven’t reached that point yet.

Maybe it’s still enough.

I take out my phone and call Detective Patterson.

“It’s me. I have someone to turn over to you.”

Chapter 33

Day 278

LETTIE

Lettie’s Life Crisis Log: Day 278.

The apartment is quiet. Too quiet. The bed has grown more uncomfortable, night by night. Not only because of the snoreless, frozen-toed female I share it with. It is believed by some that my tears have congealed in the cotton fibers of the mattress and rusted the metal coils, thus ruining the spring-like qualities it once had. Food sources are dwindling. At this rate, we’ll run out of sustenance by the weekend. Then what? I suppose I’ll eventually succumb to starvation. As long as irritation doesn’t end me sooner.

Stella and I have had approximately 4,222 arguments in the last 278 days. All because she keeps badmouthing my ex-boyfriend, and I keep stopping her.

Okay, fine. You caught me fibbing. It hasn’t been 278 days. It only feels like that. In truth, it’s probably been about four days.

However, my estimated argument count still stands.

Despite not telling Stella and Freya, my decision to move into the shelter has been made. Assuming I don’t hate it when we have our little tour tomorrow, I’m taking their first available room.

I’ll be exiting the boyfriend-bashing train post-haste.

As soon as I’m free from the man-hate over Tomer’s actions, I can focus on the hate I should be processing at the men who thought it would be cool to hold me captive for a few days. That’s where I need to put my ire.

The misdirection of energy in this apartment has me in a tizzy. You’d think they’d be more concerned with the more grievous situation. They aren’t bitching about anything other than Tomer. No one even talks about the other thing.

And sure, I wanted to forget it. I even told Stella that’s partly why we invited her to come down here. I needed a distraction. Turns out, ignoring it somehow feels... wrong.

Those horrible things happened to me. I don’t want to hide from them or pretend they didn’t. That’s avoidance; it isn’t healing.

When they aren’t spitting venom on Tomer’s name, Stella and Freya do their best to cheer me up. They’re practically tripping over each other to dote on me.

They need a hobby that doesn’t involve Lettie Holt.

I need them out of my immediate space. Not like... far away because I’m still a chicken shit. Somewhere around fifteen feet would be nice.

When I was a teenager back in Climax, I did a fair amount of babysitting. It was one of the few times I was allowed to leave the house and have some independence. Plus, I always loved kids, so it was a perfect hobby.

There was one family I babysat for that had an infant about four months old.

Oftentimes, I took the baby for walks in her fancy stroller. When I did, everybody would flock to the baby. They all wanted to hold and feed her. Everyone would take turns trying to make the little angel laugh or coo. Hell, some of them wanted to sniff her.

That’s me now. I’m the baby.

Incapable of feeding herself. Dressing herself. Remembering to get something to drink or to use the restroom.

I’m a big, fat, squishy baby. Please don’t sniff me.

Stella and Freya are all too eager to coo over me.

And I hate it.

It was so much better when Tomer coddled me. Perhaps because it felt like he was caring for me rather than smothering me.

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