As I finish soaking in the bath, I step out, dry myself, and worry about my stepfather’s reaction when he finds out that I’ve quit my job or, worse, finds out I have a man trying to pursue me for himself. I wouldn’t be surprised if my stepfather would kill me for it. I can’t let him find out.
I quickly dress and tiptoe downstairs, cautiously scanning for any signs of my stepfather. A wave of relief washes over me; he must be at the pub. That's where he often goes when he's not here.
Despite the pain coursing through my body, I set to work washing the dishes and preparing meals, which I carefully place in the fridge. It's a desperate bid to prevent a beating tonight. I'm unsure if my body can endure another assault like last night's. I return to my room, collapse on the bed, and hug myself to sleep.
My eyes flutter open the following day, and I carefully assess my body. The swelling I had yesterday has gone down a little. As I rise from the bed and begin dressing, I wince from the pain.
In the bathroom, I reach for three more pain tablets and wash them down. I tackle my long, matted brown hair, brushing and smoothing it out with care. I can’t go outside like this. Not even the hood of my jumper could hide all these marks. I stare at the bruising around my neck. It’s faded slightly since yesterday, but it’s still obvious. Determinedly, I apply makeup, skillfully concealing as many bruises as possible.
My stepfather would expect me to be at work today at the diner, but I can't go back there, not after what happened the other night. I will have to go into town and apply for a new job there. Unfortunately, it’s at least a forty-five-minute walk from here to get there.
Bracing myself, I hurry down the stairs, spotting some leftovers in the fridge, which I hastily devour. With a deep breath, I step outside into the warm embrace of the sun and the gentle caress of the breeze. My journey towards the city commences, but I can't help but ponder shortcuts to evade the diner, though most routes would only lengthen my journey to the city.
A couple of cars drive casually past me. The hum of their engines dissipates as they drive further away. My guard is up as the black Mercedes stealthily sneaks up behind me. I have no desire to be followed or stalked, and my patience wears thin. With determination, I decide to confront whoever lurks in the car. Stepping boldly in front of the sleek vehicle, I force it to halt, then stride towards the side window, waiting for a response.
The window glides down, revealing a man with dark, enigmatic eyes and raven hair. A hint of age lines his face, perhaps in his late forties, and an ugly scar marks one side of his head where half of his ear used to be. The car contains a few more occupants, including the unseen driver and two young men in the backseat, both appearing to be around twenty years old.
I fix a stern gaze on the older man who initiated the window's descent. ‘Why are you always following me?’ I demand, my voice firm.
He offers a sinister smirk, but his tone carries a disarming charm as he replies, 'Forgive my forwardness, young lady. It was never my intention to make you feel pursued. I am Zenith,' he introduces himself with a nod.
I stare at his extended hand and then back at his face, suspicion evident in my eyes. 'Look, Zenith, I've had a really terrible week, and I need to get into town to find a new job. I'd appreciate it if you'd instruct your driver to stop slowing down whenever you see me. It’s creepy and weird, and I don’t like it,’ I assert, my frustration clear.
Zenith raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. 'What happened with your job at the diner?' He inquires, seeking answers.
I respond curtly, ‘That is none of your business, which many people around here don’t seem to do.’ Turning on my heel, I walk away, eager to distance myself from the man.
'Wait, take this,' Zenith urges, extending a business card toward me. Reluctantly, I accept it, studying the words Zenith Creations, CEO, along with a contact number. Confusion clouds my features as I look back at Zenith, who offers a smile.
'If you find yourself in need of employment, give me a call,' he offers.
Pushing the card back towards him, I reply, 'Thanks, but I think I'll manage.'
Zenith insists, 'Keep it, just in case. I'll see you around, Astrid,' he says with a wink, and the window rolls up.
An indignant 'Hey!' escapes my lips as the car drives away, leaving me standing there, watching it recede into the distance. 'How did you know my name?' I shout after the vehicle, but it's too late. The vehicle is long gone.
My gaze shifts toward the diner looming ahead, and unease washes over me. I would rather avoid walking past it, but it's the quickest route into the city. My eyes narrow as I notice an unusual number of cars parked outside. There are at least three times as many as usual. Concern pricks at my conscience, knowing that Jim must be working tirelessly, catering to the needs of an unexpectedly large number of customers.
Drawing deep breaths, I muster my strength, and my pace quickens. I move as fast as my battered body can bear, although jogging is out of the question given my injuries.
As I walk past the diner, my heart sinks as I recognize a few of the same men standing around outside who were at that ominous meeting. Panic wells up inside me, and I instinctively pull my hood tighter around my face, hoping they won't recognize me. However, their gazes bore into me intensely as I hurry by, and I catch a subtle nod between them before they enter the diner.
Dread courses through me. If they're here, that must mean Ryker is inside, too. A sharp stab of pain shoots through my side, and I can't help but whimper, but I force myself to increase my pace. They've likely gone into the diner to inform Ryker I'm out here.
Further up the road, I can't resist the urge to glance back. My heart flutters with relief as I see no one behind me. I turn back to continue my trek into the city, determined to put as much distance between me and that diner as possible. But my relief falters as Ryker stands before me, blocking my path.
Fury and frustration surge within me. I need to make it clear that I want nothing to do with him. Unfazed, Ryker stands there, his presence an insurmountable obstacle. I step around him, trying to dismiss him as if he doesn't exist, but I can't escape the feeling that he's not about to let me go so easily.