Page 27 of Deeply Examined

He gives me a reassuring smile. “It’s okay. Brad’s gone.”

I let Dr. West into my apartment. The room is dark. It’s midnight now. With a click, I turn on the small lamp on my end table. It lights with a soft, golden glow. Cautious, my nerves still jangling, I return to him.

“What happened?”

Dr. West doesn’t answer. He pushes past me and heads to my bedroom. Once there, he opens the top drawer in my dresser and pulls out stacks of my underwear, bras, and socks, flinging them onto the bed.

“Get your suitcase,” he tells me. “Pack as much as you can.”

“Wh—what?”

“Start packing. Bring what we can carry. I’ll send for the rest later.”

I stare, mortified at my lingerie in his hands. He’s looking at me with impatience, waiting for me to follow his instructions.

“What are you talking about?” I sputter. “What happened?” I hurry after him. Taking my panties from him, I shove them back into the drawer.

Immediately, he gets them out again and adds them to the growing pile on the bed. “You’re leaving this hellhole.”

“I can’t leave. I don’t have anywhere to go. My parents are gone, my family’s too far away, and my friends—” My voice breaks. “They have their own lives.” I snatch the underwear from the bed. My movements frantic, I cram it into the drawer, not caring that it’s a wrinkled jumble now.

I’m frightened, angry, and overwhelmed. It crashes into me like a tidal wave, how close I came to disaster with Brad. My shoulders hitch with a sob. Embarrassed, I bury my face in my hands to hide my tears. Strong hands grip my arms and pull me forward until I stumble into Dr. West’s arms. He cushions my head on his chest and rocks slightly, making soothing noises as I cry big, shuddering sobs.

“You can’t stay here.” His breath is warm against my hair. “There’s nothing stopping Brad from coming back tomorrow or the day after that. You’re not safe.”

“I don’t have anywhere to go,” I repeat in a whisper, my voice breaking.

“Yes, you do,” he says, his voice firm. “With me.”

I stiffen, pulling back just enough to look up at him. “I can’t,” I say, shaking my head. “I barely know you.”

“You know me better than you think,” he counters. His gaze is steady, unwavering. “At least come for one night—or two. Just until we figure something else out. I won’t let anything happen to you. You’ll be safe with me. I promise.”

I search his face for any sign of hesitation, any hint that this is a mistake, but all I see is certainty.

And yet, I pause. “I don’t know…”

“It’s late,” he says gently but firmly. “You’re exhausted, and you’ve been through hell. Let me take care of you, just for now.”

I exhale shakily, the weight of his words sinking in. He’s right. I can’t stay here. Not after what happened. But going with him feels terrifying in a completely different way.

“Okay,” I murmur, the word barely audible.

“Good,” he says, stepping back. He resumes his methodical packing.

My shoulders slump in defeat. I fetch my dusty suitcase from under the bed. It belonged to my parents. They loved to travel, mostly road trips around the United States since we didn’t have a lot of money. We’d pack up the car and go, sometimes without a clear destination. Just roamed around, wherever the wind took us.

We had a tradition of getting a sticker from every place we visited. At the end of the trip, we’d slap the stickers onto the suitcase until its sides were covered in them. I run my finger over an image of a colorful beach, the sun setting into the ocean like a flame about to be extinguished. I haven’t gone anywhere since they died. Too busy and too poor. It’s ironic that this is the first time I’ve left home in years. Not to travel the world but to run away. To escape.

We work together in silence. Dr. West hands me items, which I neatly fold and pack. Soon, the suitcase and another bag bulge with my things. He takes one in each hand and asks, “Are you ready?”

No, I think.I’m not.

I swallow hard, forcing air into my lungs and reach for a strength I’m not sure I have. “Yes,” I whisper at last, my voice steadier than I feel.

And with that, I follow him out the door.

Chapter eight

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