Page 31 of Halfway to Hell
Walking into the bathroom,Sunday stared at the tub. She reached in, turned on the water, and stood back up, watching the basin slowly fill. The steady hum of rushing water filled the small space, but her mind was louder, churning with thoughts she couldn’t stop.
Alone in the room, her heart began to race. Her breaths came quicker, shallower. A cold sweat beaded at her temples. When her knees gave a warning tremble, she grabbed the toilet seat and sank down onto it.
Tears spilled down her cheeks, silent and steady, dripping from her chin to her lap. Tomorrow was the end of the road. Texas would drop her off in Montreal. And from what he'd said earlier… Monday wouldn’t be there.
Her hands trembled as a scream clawed its way up her throat. She shoved a fist into her mouth, biting down hard to keep it inside. The pressure, the panic, it all threatened to spill over.
Sliding to the floor, she curled in on herself. Cold tile against her skin. The thunder of her heartbeat in her ears.
She didn’t know if she could do it. Didn’t know if she could bealone. What if something happened? Who would she call? Who would come?
No one. Not this time. No one was coming to save her again.
A single sob broke free. Then another. And another—until Sunday’s head dropped against the edge of the tub, her whole body shaking uncontrollably.
One trembling hand slipped into the rising water. The warmth wrapped around her fingers like a promise—soft, quiet, inviting.
Through blurred vision, she blinked up at the faucet and reached over, twisting the handle until the flow stopped. Silence pressed in, heavy and thick.
Forcing herself upright, she shoved to her feet. Her movements were slow, deliberate. She undressed in silence, folding each piece of clothing with care as if holding onto some last thread of control.
She placed the neat pile on the floor. Then she closed the door and stepped into the tub.
Lowering herself into the water, Sunday gripped the cold porcelain edges of the tub. Her fingers curled tight, knuckles white against the stark white rim.
The warmth enveloped her, but it couldn’t reach the chill rooted deep in her bones. With her decision made, she leaned back slowly. Her breath hitched, then slipped beneath the surface.
Texas walked into the restaurant, still turning over the conversation he’d had with Sunday. Something about her unsettled him.
She’d beentoocalm. Her voice had been flat, her words short and mechanical—complacent, even. Like she’d already made up her mind.
He’d seen women in bad situations handle things in all kinds of ways. Some stayed strong until they were safely relocated—then crumbled. Others struggled through every mile, every moment.
But Sunday was different. And that difference gnawed at him. He couldn’t get a read on her.
Eros waved from a back booth as Texas crossed the room, but something tugged at the back of his mind. A quiet, persistent unease.
“Don’t forget your key,”she’d said.“Just in case I fall asleep.”It hadn’t registered at the time, but now… it didn’t sit right.
Sunday hadn’t been able to sleep alone. Not once. Not without him nearby. The silence terrified her. Sleep never came easy.
He slowed, turning toward the window. Outside the parking lot shimmered beneath the early evening haze. Still, still, still.“I might not be able to get to the door.”Her words echoed again, sharp this time, cutting through the fog in his brain.
His stomach dropped. Something was wrong. Texas took off. He shoved through the restaurant door and bolted across the parking lot, the air burning in his lungs.
She wouldn’t,he told himself.She wouldn’t.
His hands shook as he fumbled with the room key. It went in backward, then upside down. He cursed under his breath, heart pounding, finally forcing it into the lock.
The door swung open into silence. The kind of silence that screamed. He rushed across the room but skidded to a halt when he saw the bathroom door closed. His chest tightened.
No.
He didn’t knock. Didn’t call her name. Just threw the door open. And there she was.
Sunday submerged in the water, her eyes closed. One hand dangled over the edge of the tub. The other rested motionless on her stomach.
For a second—just one—his brain refused to register what he was seeing. Then instinct kicked in. He moved. Rushing forward he reached into the water, grabbed her under the arms and hauled her out. Texas grabbed her by the shoulders and yanked her upright.
