Page 44 of Marrying My Ex's Brother
No one is supposed to know I’m here.
My heart begins to beat faster. I sit up slowly, pulling the blanket to my chest even though I’m alone. The black dress from last night hangs over the bathroom door, stiff in places where the blood didn’t wash out completely. My shoes are gone. My money is tucked under the mattress. The chair is still wedged under the handle.
Another knock.
“Open the door.”
My whole body goes cold.
My father.
I don’t breathe. I don’t blink. For one ridiculous second, I think if I stay completely still, he might go away.
“Anya,” he says.
I climb out of bed, legs weak beneath me. I pull on my coat over the underwear I slept in, then move toward the door as quietly as possible.
“How did you find me?” I ask.
“Open the door.”
“No.”
His pause is short. “Don’t make this uglier than it already is.”
A laugh almost escapes me.
As if I’m the one who ruined everything.
I look around the room, searching for something I can use, but there’s nothing. A cracked lamp. A glass ashtray. A chair under the door. My old life trained me for dinner tables and smiling through insults. It didn’t train me for this.
“Go away,” I say.
“Open the door, Anya.”
“Why? So you can drag me back?”
No answer. That tells me enough.
My fingers tremble as I remove the chair from under the handle. I don’t know why I do it. Maybe because some childish part of me still believes he won’t hurt me if he sees my face.
I unlock the door, but only enough to pull it open a few inches.
He stands in the hallway in a dark overcoat, freshly shaved, hair combed neatly back. He looks too polished for this place. Too clean against the stained carpet and peeling wallpaper.
His eyes travel over me. My messy hair. My bare legs. The coat clutched around my body. Something passes across his face, but it’s gone too quickly to be concern.
I try to close the door, but he moves faster. His palm hits the wood and pushes it open hard enough that I stumble backward.
“Stop,” I snap.
He steps inside and shuts the door behind him.
Suddenly the room feels half its size.
I back away from him, panic rising in my throat. “Get out.”
“Lower your voice.”
