Page 84 of Hunger

Frannie’s face blazes before me.

I know he’d never do it. Idle threats are his default mode of communication. But the rancor in his tone and the fear that maybe this time, he’s telling the truth, always stops me from doing what I should… just as it stops the other women he’s hurt.

Hoping I can make it sound like he’s won some victory over me, I utter, “Look you’ve already ruined my time here. Just please tell the assholes you have texting me to leave me alone.”

“Just the one, wildflower,” he replies. “Or is one not enough for you?”

Something twists in my stomach.

He’s lying…

There are two separate private numbers…

“This call will end in sixty seconds.”

The dull announcement from the prison system’s phone service has me waiting for whatever version of goodbye he’ll give me this time.

At the sound of voices outside the door, I take him off speakerphone, bringing the phone to my ear and speaking in more muted tones.

“Leave me alone. That’s all I want. I had nothing to do with you being in that place.”

“I can’t, Indie… I still want you. I still want you to feel me inside you.”

“Stop…”

“Touch a man over there and I’ll have someone visiting you within twenty-four hours.”

“Leave me alone. Please.”

“I like it when you beg, Indie. I remember the last time you did. Remember? Mmm, that was good. Beg me to stop, Indie. Beg me.”

As the call clicks off and the dial tone replaces the ragged edges of his harsh voice, my head drops and what feels like a never-ending waterfall of tears plummets silently onto the screen of the phone that I hold on my lap.

From behind the door, I hear raucous laughter and the clinks of drinks, all plunged into shadow by the incessant black backdrop of fear—fear that he’s watching, fear that someone he had follow me is, fear that one day he’ll want to take everyone down with him.

Stupid, Indie…

So fucking stupid…

I shouldn’t have picked up.

I just couldn’t take the fear anymore…

I've probably just given him a high, recharged his batteries for the fun he intends to have.

I bet you I’m not the only one of his exes he’s called today. From what I gather, he enjoys tormenting the last three of us, although apparently his calls to them have waned over the last year even before he was in jail, another reason why they don’t want to go to the authorities.

It's also what makes me so afraid; that he’ll never let go; that five years from now, whether he’s in prison or not, he’ll be making the same calls, tainting the taste of everything with his special brand of poison, and I’ll still be unable to tell anyone for fear that I ruin their day too.

Sometimes it doesn’t feel like this is my life. How did I go from this free-spirited creature who used to howl at the moon and whip the air into a storm to someone holding back, afraid, unable to fully be at peace? Even during my yoga class, my mind drifts to what he may be plotting to the point that yoga and meditation are starting to become triggering…

I grab a tissue from a box on the table and wipe the tears from my eyes, deciding to wait a few minutes before leaving the room to find a washroom in some hidden part of the hotel. If I bump into anyone, I’ll tell them the wedding made me emotional.

As I slowly lift my head, wondering if there’s a mirror here that I can check my reflection in, I jump back in my chair, my palm nailing my chest at the sight of a man standing not twenty feet away, filling the doorway of an adjacent room in which we put the cases of champagne yesterday after they’d all been labeled.

God…

A droplet of saltwater trickles into the gap between my lips and I wipe my face quickly as he takes a step towards me.

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