Blessing in Disguise

Blessing in Disguise (3)

A booming laugh erupts from the man, and I hurriedly wipe the corner of my eyes for any tears.

Oh, God.

The shock from his change in demeanor plus the whole situation had gotten to me, and in turn, my body had reacted like this.

«Hey, hey,» the man eventually calms down and waves at me, traces of a chuckle still lingering on his lips. «Stop crying. I'm just joking around.»

He glances at the time on my phone. «Anyways, I should get going. It seems you don't have any food around.»

My phone and wallet are still in his hands as he turns and heads toward the door. His fingertips graze the kitchen counter as he goes, before flicking up into a lazy salute in my direction on his way out.

Just as abruptly as he came, he left.

I can only stare at the door as it closes behind him, my mind failing to register what had just happened.

The money. My mother's hard-earned money is gone, along with the money left on my credit card, my ID, and the coupons I had saved up for my next grocery shopping. I can't even call anyone since he took my phone.

If this had only affected me, I could have handled it quietly by myself. But I can't bear to disappoint my mother. She shouldn't have to feel that all her efforts went to waste.

I had finally convinced her I was ready to live by myself and I had practically forced her to let me leave her and the house. How can I ever explain this to her? I can barely keep up a tough facade by myself, I won't be able to keep this act up once she finds out.

A sudden feeling of helplessness showers over me, one that has been brewing in the pit of my stomach ever since leaving home.

I grit my teeth. Though I remember putting the medication on the nightstand next to my bed, the wave of emotions erases any logical thought of getting them. My legs feel wobbly, and my hand grabs onto the ledge of the kitchen counter for support. I can only cradle my head as I drop down and hug my knees, letting the tears I have been holding back run freely down my face.

My worries are correct. I am hopeless. Overestimating myself and foolishly believing that I can do this on my own. I haven't made any progress.

I must have looked so stupid to that man. Inviting him into my apartment even though we both knew he was only looking to take advantage of the situation.

The choked cries sounding from me feel foreign to my ears, but I can't control the grief racking through my body. My head hurts from all the self-destructive thoughts absorbing my mind.

It just won't stop.

God, I hate this side of me.

My eyes are still swollen as I make my way out of the police station, the hoodie of my jacket draped over my head in an attempt to hide my face.

There had been few people at the station on that Sunday night.

The woman in reception helped me file a police report for my stolen goods. She started talking me through the process of closing my credit card and reporting it as stolen, but one look at my puffy, tired face convinced her to help me do that too.