Page 22 of Nothing To Lose
It'sdark when I'm startled awake by a distant sound. It was probably just the slam of a car door or something like that, but it triggers a memory that won't let me go back to sleep. If I close my eyes again, I know I'll be back in that alley. Despite taking an extra pain killer before I laid down, in the hopes that I'd be able to sleep through my anxiety of Guy knowing where I live, my head aches, and I can't get comfortable.
My insanely high thread count sheets are doing nothing to soothe me, and there's a flashing light coming from my phone, letting me know I have notifications. It's been over forty-eight hours since I was in contact with anyone.Most of them are likely from my father following up on my ‘date’, but I really don't want to deal with it right now. I know if I don't call him back soon, he'll send someone to check up on me, if he doesn't show up on my doorstep himself.
The incessant blinking only increases my restlessness. I get up to turn the phone over or put it in a drawer, but I’m distracted by my foot hitting something soft. Isaac's hoodie. I pick it up and hold it close, breathing in the comforting scent of sawdust, soap, and clean sweat. I'm distracted enough that I let my eyes roam over the screen of my phone, and I nearly choke.
There are a few missed calls from my father's office, unsurprisingly. The text transcripts of the messages show he was calling to ask how the date went, then devolved into frustration about me being ungrateful—if I want him to continue paying for my phone, I should answer when he calls. He reminded me that tomorrow is the first Monday of the month, which means I’m expected to come to the all-hands meeting at the office even though I don’t technically work there. I’m going to have to tell him I’m sick so I can avoid going anywhere near that office, my father, or Guy for as long as possible. At least until my face heals.
There are a few texts from the study group chat I'm in. Sam checked in separately as well, wondering if we’re still on to play our favorite online RPG this weekend, and another wondering where I am. My stomach flips a little at a few messages from an unknown number.
What sets off the alarm bells in my head and the pit of my stomach are the multiple messages from Guy. They started Saturday morning and escalated through the weekend.
Guy M: We need to talk.
Guy M: I don't know about you, but I barely remember last night LOL
Guy M: We drank too much, and things might have gotten out of hand.
Guy M: Look, I forgive you for leading me on like that.
Guy M: We both said and did some things we shouldn't have.
Guy M: Don't be like this, Tyler.
Guy M: You need to get over yourself.
Guy M: I hope you don't think crying to daddy will accomplish anything.
Guy M: I don't think your dad would appreciate knowing how inappropriate you were last night. Or the dean, seeing as he's a family friend.
Guy M: Are you seriously going to keep ignoring me?
Guy M: Where are you?
Guy M: I'm not playing around anymore, Tyler. Just talk to me.
Guy M: WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU TYLER?!
Guy M: ANSWER THE DOOR!
Guy M: Ignore me for now, but we both know you can’t avoid me.
The last few texts were sent after midnight last night.
The noise complaint.
He was here.Was he banging on the door? Yelling? The texts sound like he was enraged. I don’t understand. I’ve never seen him like this. He’s always been pretentious and annoyingly stuck up, but never violent or loud in any way. I expected him to try to talk to me the next time we saw each other. I expected him to act like it was my fault, or give some kind of false apology and gaslight me into making something up to cover his ass.
I thought what happened Friday was because he had too much to drink, but if he’s still acting this unhinged, what will he do to keep me from talking?
Bile rises in my throat when I see the three little dots that indicate he's writing a new text pop up.
Guy M: I see you're finally reading my texts. Good. I'm coming over, and we're going to talk this out.
6
ISAAC
The noise of the saw is close to deafening, yet it’s still not loud enough to drown out my thoughts. I'm covered in sawdust, dripping with sweat, and practically dead on my feet from exhaustion, but nothing is enough to stop my mind from running circles around every moment from the last couple days.
