JESSA
I wake up at five in the morning. Although “wake up” isn’t exactly accurate, because it feels more like I never really slept at all.
I splash cold water on my face, trying to wash away the fatigue that clings to the new lines on my face. But my eyes are still puffy when I put on my sweats and head out for a run.
I try to run for at least half an hour. Four or five times a week, if I can manage. Today, I do triple that.
Every time I think about cooling down, it feels like Anton is closing in on me. Like I can sense him creeping up just out of sight, ready to snatch me up and swallow me whole.
I haven’t decided what I’m going to do about the phone. If I give it back to him, I lose my leverage and I’m completely at his mercy. It doesn’t help that, in every rare moment of silence, I hear his parting words to me from last night.
She knew that, if she didn’t do it at some point… I would have done it for her.
That’s as good as a confession, isn’t it? Even if Anton didn’t kill his wife, he pushed her into killing herself. She was desperate. Scared.
He was this woman’s nightmare—her final nightmare, by the sounds of it—and I’ve been mooning over him.
I let him fuck me against a yacht railing. And even after I saw him shoot a man in cold blood, I let him kiss me last night.
My stomach twists with guilt. The stitch in my side becomes unbearable as I bend over and grab my knees, trying to catch my breath.
“Oh God…”
I end up puking my guts out in the weeds on the edge of a playground. When I resurface, I notice two mothers staring at me with disgust as they usher their gawking children away.
Talk about hitting new lows.
When I’m done retching, I jog away as fast as I can, making a mental note to never come back to this neighborhood again. I’m so lost in thought when I approach my building that I don’t even notice Freya until she claps me on the back.
“Jesus!” I scream, twisting around and batting her hand away.
“Whoa!” She holds up her hands. “It’s just me.”
Closing my eyes, I run my hands over my face. “Shit, Freya. I’m so sorry. You startled me.”
“Clearly. You didn’t hear me calling?”
“I was… deep in thought.”
She nods, looking at me with concern. “Why don’t you come up to my place?” she suggests, holding up a brown paper bag. “I’ve got croissants.”
“I don’t think I could eat right now if my life depended on it.”
“Then you can watch me eat,” she insists. “Come on.”
I follow her up to her apartment and collapse onto one of her barstools the moment we get to the kitchen. Wordlessly, she pours me a glass of water and hands it to me.
“Thanks,” I mumble.
“Is there a reason you’re so jumpy today?” she asks, eyeing me curiously.
I shake my head. “Just… contemplating a few things.”
“Like?”
“Um, let’s call it life decisions.”
“Ah, life. Trust me. I’ve been there.” She pulls out the croissants and puts them on a plate. “Sure you don’t want one? They’re delicious.”