Tortured Sinner by Tessa James

Claire - 3

Being in someone else’s house, especially when they aren’t home, and for the first time, is strange.

I tiptoe around, careful not to bump into or disturb anything. It’s like walking through a minefield of bookshelves and house plants.

My mother’s place reminds me of one of those staged model homes that no one actually lives in. It feels…off. Back at my dad’s, our place was definitely lived in. There were coffee cup rings on the counter and dirty dishes in the sink. Clean laundry would sit in baskets until one of us finally decided to put it away. Empty pizza boxes would be waiting to get recycled, and there were always blankets on the couch waiting for someone to curl up under.

Here though, there's none of that homey stuff. Sure, it’s nice—clean, even. But houses aren’t supposed to make you feel unwelcome, and this one definitely gives off those vibes.

I open the door to my bedroom and take in the contents. A bed covered in dark-gray linen is tucked in the corner, and a basic white desk is situated on the opposing wall. A wide, six-drawer dresser is along the wall with the closet door. It’s not a big space, but it’s enough for what I need. It’ll get me by until I can get the hell out of here.

She did have the decency to leave me a note, briefly covering the essentials. My room was down the hall, the second door on the right. A spare bathroom was first. Towels are in the closet at the far end. There was an envelope of cash for groceries and a list of some takeout options. A mention about almost everyone in the building being pretty nice and that there’s a lady named Martha in 237 who seems friendly if I need anything.

She must have been referring to the jerk guy with the almost.

Nothing of a warm welcome. Only a “see you soon” scribbled at the end.

This woman feels more and more like a roommate by the minute. My Uber driver Greta hit the nail on the head with that one.

My stomach growls, so I abandon my confines in search of something to eat. I could easily order from one of the places suggested, but I need a bit of fresh air. I had attempted to leave not too long ago, but my plan was halted when my sights landed on that asshole who ran into me earlier.

Seeing him, it was like my brain fogged up and my body went into autopilot, sending me back through the front door.

His gaze had locked onto mine, and for a second, we had a stare-off.

Part of me thought he was going to say something. Apologize, maybe. Tell me that his grandma was dying, and he had to rush out and that was why he knocked me down and didn’t bother saying a thing. Anything to justify his jerk behavior. But he didn’t, he just stood there, like a complete dumbass, frozen in place.

He had his opportunity, and he chose to not use it. Or well, maybe his lack of apology was him using it. He’s shown his true colors twice now, and I need to make sure I’m paying attention.

I grab my phone off the nightstand beside my bed and swipe a couple of the twenties off the counter on my way out. With my hand on the doorknob, I inhale deeply and do my best to prepare myself for whatever comes next.

The warm air hits me immediately, reminding me that I still must look like a fool with long sleeves. It’s dark enough that any of the marks would probably go unnoticed, but if I happen to walk into a well-lit place, the bruises Griffin left on my arms would be visible.

Today is Friday, so I have until Monday for them to fade, otherwise, I'll be attending my initial day of college looking like a total drug user. I’ll be nervous enough without my attire making me sweat bullets. The campus isn't too far from here, but even with the short walk, I'm bound to get overheated. Smelling of body odor wouldn't be a good first impression either.

When I made the decision to take my mom up on her offer of housing, Dad and I did a little recon on the area around her place. A five-minute walk to school meant I wouldn't need to rely on transportation, and that alone was a huge plus. Restaurants and coffee shops are a dime a dozen out here, so finding food shouldn't be a big deal either. Within walking distance, there are museums, a park, and plenty to keep me occupied while I'm stuck living here.

If everything wasn’t right at my fingertips, I might have been more resistant to saying yes to this major change in life.

“You can do this,” I tell myself. I poke my head out of my new home and hesitantly scan my surroundings.

The hallway is empty. Not a person in sight.

I seize the moment and leave, closing the door tightly behind me to ensure it latches all the way. The sun has fully set, and the night sky is illuminated not by stars but by electricity glowing from buildings and streetlights.

I make a beeline for the stairs and then straight to the gate to get out of the complex. Noticing a creeping sensation on my back, like someone watching me, I glance over my shoulder on my way out. That same guy is standing outside his unit, his hand on the door handle and his gaze glued to me.

He's changed his clothes. His shirt is a bit looser, and his jeans are darker. He's wearing a baseball cap pulled down, like he's trying to obscure his eyes. He looks like he's up to no good, and if I'm being honest with myself, it's kind of hot.

I shake my head to rid the thought and continue forward, refusing to waste another moment on him.

I go out onto the sidewalk, where I blend in with the passing crowd. No one seems to notice me, and for that I’m grateful. I don’t want to make idle small talk or fake pleasantries. Maybe another time. Right now, I just want to get something to eat.