Chapter 7
Maybe it’s a wrong number. Or meant for whoever used to have this number. Or a prank.
I try to reason myself out of my near-blind panic, but it’s not working. This type of mind game is exactly the type of thing Andrew loved doing. I am pretty positive that his favorite pastime was anything that would keep me flustered or off-kilter. He loved making sure that I knew he was the calm, rational one while I was “crazy.” Except I was never crazy. He just made me look crazy, feel crazy.
Hands shaking so badly I actually drop my phone at one point, I gather enough courage to send a response.
Who is this?
Almost immediately, three dots appear on the screen, indicating that the person on the other end is texting back. Time slows to a crawl, and nausea churns my stomach as I await their response. Although it couldn’t have been more than 30 seconds, it feels like minutes later when the words pop up on my screen, causing the tension to leave my body all at once.
It’s Jason. I called myself from your phone while you were in the bathroom to get your number. I didn’t get a chance to tell you before you left and never came back. Everything OK?
I slump back in my chair, so relieved that I swear I could kiss my stupid cell phone. Andrew hasn’t found me. I am still safe here. I mean, apart from my psycho boss, but that’s somehow easier to deal with. I take a few more deep breaths, trying to even out my breathing and slow my still-racing heart. I am not sure what to say back to Jason, though. I mean, I can’t exactly tell him that I have a doppelganger who apparently the whole town hates because she ruined everyone’s lives. I decide to stick as close to the truth as possible, without sounding like I am having delusions of grandeur.
Oh, there was just an issue with my background check. Everything is good now though!
Glad they got it figured out. When do you start on the unit?
Tomorrow. You?
Same! I’m glad I won’t be struggling alone. New jobs, amiright?
Totally. See you tomorrow?
Can’t wait ;)
I chuckle a bit to myself, and am once again grateful that I am somehow already finding friends here. My life might be a complete disaster, and my future may still be unclear, but at least for now I have someone other than work or my landlord that I can talk to. It feels nice. Really nice.
I force myself to get up off of my bed–or mattress, rather–tossing my phone down behind me, and head to the bathroom. At this moment, I want nothing more than to wash the remnants of this day off of my skin. I stop in front of the window, peeking through the blinds to see that the black SUV is still sitting out in the parking lot. I assume that Joseph is still sitting inside, but the windows are tinted too dark for me to actually see inside.
I continue into the bathroom, flipping on the lights and locking the door behind me, even though I live alone and I locked the front door. Can’t be too secure, right? Bracing myself, I turn and force myself to look in the mirror, assessing the damage to my neck. Ugly purple bruises are already peppering the delicate skin. I have had years of hiding bruises with clothing and makeup, and I am going to need all of my skills to cover these bruises if I am going to make it through the day tomorrow without anyone asking questions. But that’s tomorrow’s problem. Future Cambree can deal with that. For tonight, I just want to soak in the bath and forget that my life is a shitshow.
I turn on the faucet in my bathroom, waiting for the water to run hot before plugging the drain and allowing the tub to fill. Even the sound of the running water relaxes me. I have always loved water. The ocean, rivers, lakes, streams… hell, even a fountain. Something about it brings me so much peace, which honestly is a real accomplishment considering the life I have lived certainly could not be described as “peaceful.”
Stripping the rest of my clothing and tossing it to the floor, I step into the tub, then sink down into the hot water. Any remaining tension leaves my body and I relish the looseness of my muscles. As the water level rises, I sink lower into the bathtub, making sure that my poor, battered neck is submerged. I swear that soaking injuries in water helps them to heal quicker. Andrew used to tell me how stupid I am for thinking that, telling me that as a nurse I should know better. Maybe I should. Maybe it was just the placebo effect. Either way, I am almost positive that even just a few seconds in the water has taken the edge off of the ache in my neck. A long sigh escapes me, and I close my eyes, basking in this moment, soaking it up.
I stay in the bath until the water gets cold and my fingers are wrinkled, then I pull the plug and heave myself out of the tub, wrapping myself in the one towel that I own. I pad into my tiny kitchen, and microwave a styrofoam cup of noodles for dinner. I still have my leftovers from lunch today, but I will save those for tomorrow. Once they are out of the microwave and no longer the temperature of hot lava, I eat my noodles slowly and daydream about the fresh produce that I will buy with my first paycheck.
After my pitiful dinner, I climb into bed embarrassingly early, exhausted from the stress of the day. I sleep restlessly, dreaming of a man–his face switching between Andrew and Reed–wrapping his hands around my neck again, and again, and again.