Page 135 of Every Broken Promise
Even though I was fully clothed, I still sat up with the covers all around my body as if the blankets were going to act like a shield.
“W-w-what are you doing in here, Ronnie?”
It surprised me that my voice didn’t waver more than it did. Even though I wanted to scream and rage, and to tell him to get the fuck out of my space, a part of me knew I needed to stay calm.
Call it women’s intuition.
Ronnie was calm, sitting on the couch diagonally from the bed. How long he had been there watching me like a creep, I couldn’t tell you, but what I could say was that the amber liquid in his hand was not just a crispy Coke.
He was still wearing yesterday’s clothes: a pair of pants with wrinkles in them and a shirt with a loose collar. His hair was messy, and his eyes were a tad bit bloodshot. Although Ronnie was facing me, I felt like he wasn’t seeing me.
“You look so peaceful when you sleep,” he said, ignoring my previous question.
My stomach was in knots, and I didn’t know which way to turn. My mind going a mile a minute, I couldn’t think properly. My heart was racing, and I was sure my blood pressure was through the roof. I didn’t know what was going to happen, but if my career and past have taught me anything, it is that I should keep a clear head.
“R-R-Ronnie…how did you get in here?”
He brought the drink to his lips and took a slow sip.
I was more unnerved by his nonchalant demeanor than anything else he could have done. Maybe if he were erratic and shouting, I could act appropriately, but his type of lunacy was something I couldn’t match—at least not yet.
Punch with your thumb out.
Look at the exits and try to find objects to use as weapons.
My phone! Where’s my phone?
It took a second for my brain to rewire and remind me that my phone was on the nightstand next to me where I left it after talking with Ty. I did my best not to turn and double-check it was there in fear Ronnie would take it away. I cursed myself for not leaving it charging, but I knew I had enough juice to get me out of a pickle.
“I had high hopes for this trip, Astrid.”
There it was again, that feeling thatIhad failed, that this wasmyfault.Icould have prevented this ifIhadn’t been a pushover and just said to give this opportunity to someone else.
My throat clogged up, and even though my nerves were fried, I tried to keep calm.
“It’s been g-g-great,” I let him know. “I’m thankful for the opportunity.”
The words tasted like ash on my tongue, but I forced myself to say them.
This gave me a reaction.
Ronnie chuckled.
“It originally was going to be Orianna. She’s anactualreporter. Has seniority over you, but then she fell in love and got married.”
There was a bite to Ronnie’s tone as he told me this. Three things passed through my head at that moment. First was the way he diminished my reporting abilities; now that he no longer needed to pretend, he went straight to attacking me, trying to make me feel even smaller—or grateful, even. The second was that I am pretty sure Orianna was his first choice, but she married into law enforcement. And the third thing was feeling like an idiot.
There were times to ignore the red flags, like when your car is making a funny noise and you tell yourself it just needs an oil change and it’s not that serious, but in this case, I was fucked.
“I’m sure her marital status doesn’t interfere with the brilliance of her work.”
The words got away from me before I could filter them. If there was ever a time to be docile, it was now, but bitterness at the situation got the best of me.
Once again, Ronnie ignored what I was saying.
“I was nice to you, Astrid, gave you opportunities. Some might say you were too young…fresh out of school to deserve the opportunities I gave you.”
My stomach sank even more with each word that came out of his mouth. If Ronnie wanted me to feel small and underserving of what I had achieved—or in his eyes everything I had not—he got it.
