Trust My Love

No.

No.

“No.”

Don’t look at her face.

"Please, Mira?”

“I told you last time,” I said, placing a dripping plate into the dishwasher.

“I know,” my roommate finished, her whiny pleading tone simultaneously annoying and endearing. Even though my back was to her, I could see her eyes rolling.

Violet had just broken up with her boyfriend of three months. From the moment she met Ben, I knew they wouldn’t last. He was really sweet. Brought flowers when he picked her up at our apartment for their first date. Always brought her home at a reasonable hour like he promised. Attentive to her every need.

“Just for a couple of hours. I’m getting cabin fever from being cooped up in here.”

The sound of her footsteps retreating to her bedroom filled my ears.

“Fine,” I responded, even though it was clear that I was going to say yes. It felt automatic at this point.

As she got dressed in her skimpiest outfit, I cleared the remaining dishes from the sink. One more plate, two cups, and two forks.

I finished by running a wet rag over the countertops until they sparkled.

***

“CanIhave one more?” The bartender obliged, passing down another shot. Usually, Violet had a couple of drinks before slinking away to find the special person who would entertain her for that night.

Tonight, though, she did not seem as enthusiastic. Maybe it was the fact that this time he had broken up with her. I don’t understand. That’s what she had said yesterday, tears and snot running down her face. I shouldn’t have told him about Caleb.

“Can I get you anything else?” I looked up at the bartender, a young twenty-something guy with floppy hair and tattoos running down his forearms.

“Just water,” I said, pushing away my glass of melted ice orange wedges. “Two glasses.”

I pushed away the empty shot glass and assessed the clump of strawberry blonde hair resting on the bar counter.

“Hey,” I said, gently nudging her. She groaned once. “Drink this.”

With another groan she lifted her head, blinking a few times as she looked at the glass in front of her. “Violet,” I repeated, irritation seeping into my tone.

She finally gave in, drinking the water slowly, like I was forcing her to drink celery juice.

I turned away for a second to pay the tab. When I turned around, around, Violet had flung herself off the bar stool and was stumbling into the sea of people on the dance floor covered in ever-changing colors. A headache was forming, and the flashing lights and blasting music were not helping.

“Thank you,” I said, grabbing my card.

When I looked into the crowd I assessed the situation in front of me. The good news was that I could see her. The bad news was that she was gripping onto the shirt of a tall man whose hands were trailing up and down her figure. His eyes assessed her with the same ferocity of his hands.

“Hey,” I said loudly. The man retreated his wandering hand like he had been burned.

“Fuck.” His blue eyes snapped to mine, fury blazing in them. I had always been told I had a strong grip. Iron hands as my dad always says.

Violet stumbled again and I pulled her towards me.

“I think you were interrupting,” the man said.

I tilted my chin up to meet his gaze. “She is drunk.”

There was a staring match and he looked away first.

“Come on,” I said softly, trying to get her to lift her head off of my shoulder.

“Mhmmm...”

Our apartment was only a few blocks away. We reached the crosswalk and I noticed two large men eyeing her up and down and then glancing at each other.

My heart thumped in my ears, blocking out everything else.

I moved quickly when the pedestrian signal flashed. Ahead of us was a steep street with no lights.

I turned around and saw one of the men following us once we were about halfway up the street. He had a hood drawn over his head and one hand in his pocket.

Run. Now.

“Stop!” I yelled and shrieked the word again.

“What the fuck.” Violet said. “Oh my god!” The car approaching stopped with a jolt, but did not honk as we crossed the one way street.

When I looked across, the man was flailing his arms erratically, yelling nonsense.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Violet said, her eyes looking slightly more alert as she tried to stand on her own.

“Come on,” I said, eyeing the man retreating back into a dark alley.

***

“Hi Tim,” I said, my voice surprisingly steady as we made our way to the elevator.

“Have a good night?” The elderly man smiled politely at us as he walked back to the front desk with a cup of water.

“The best,” I said, laughing softly. Goosebumps erupted on my skin from the air-conditioning.

As the elevator doors closed, I let out a shaky breath in the silence.

“I’m hungry.” Violet lifted her head from my shoulder, eyes refusing to completely open.

The apartment was dark and immaculately clean as I left it. Violet threw her purse on the kitchen island and moved to her bedroom.

I opened the fridge and pulled out some leftover Chinese from a couple nights ago.

“I wanted a quesadilla,” Violet pouted as she still grabbed the steaming bowl from my hands.

She had changed into an oversized t-shirt and had swiped some of her makeup off her face, but still had streaks of mascara running down her face.

I waited. Waited until she finished eating. Waited until I cleaned her bowl and spoon. Waited until I ran the dishwasher and double checked that all the doors and windows were locked.

The soft click of the bathroom door behind me was when I broke down.

First, regret washed over me. I should have never agreed to go. Then anger at the man who was trying to take advantage of a drunk woman and the other guy who... I didn’t know. Was going to rob us? Rape us and than leave us for dead in some alley?

As I undressed the filth off my body, I made eye contact with the crying woman in the mirror in front of me as the shower heated up.

I stared between my legs as blood swirled down the drain, realizing that the churning in my lower stomach was because I had started my period.