Who Will Save Her?

9.

Soon after, Milly bursts through her apartment door, heading straight into the bathroom. At the sink, she opens a bag labeled:

— Bruisex (X-Large)

Removing her blouse, Milly examines the big red mark on her belly from the brute's fist, then reads aloud: "Do not use with pain cream. Apply Bruisex directly to the skin within one hour of injury."

Glancing at the time, she sighs in relief. Milly points her phone's camera at the Bruisex code, chooses a skin tone on-screen, sets down the phone, and reaches into the bag. The fabric blushes from gray to pale pink as she slides it out. Milly peels the sticky side and adheres the Bruisex to her abdomen. Caressing the fabric, it flexes with her muscles.

She smiles with pride at a glass cabinet, brightly lit, containing dozens of pieces of sparkling jewelry. Her tummy grumbles.

From her sparse fridge, Milly spills ingredients into a pot: "real 99% lean" ground turkey, salt, pepper, and chicken stock. Slicing a wrinkled carrot, she halts halfway, eyes losing focus, biting her lip.

Her difficult relationship with knives cuts deep beyond herself.

Milly resumes chopping. Uneven carrot slices plop in the pot on her stovetop. She presses one button:

— SOUP

In the living room, Milly's touch on her desk brings its screen to life. "Refresh encryption." Her voice commands it. "Replay video message from Charlie."

Dated three days prior, Charlie's karate uniform fashions a perfect "V" below his Adam's apple. "Hey, Milly. Hope you're OK, wherever you are." His tanned face looks forty. "So, something happened back here at the dojo." His calm demeanor says older. "Your ex came by and—"

"Pause." Patting her pocket, Milly looks around. "Cat, where'd you run off to?"

Resting on the bathroom sink, her phone lights up, chiming.

Footsteps coming closer, Milly peeks in through the bathroom doorway. "Cat, how long until Ambrosia opens?"

"Seventy-five minutes," her phone replies — a pleasant voice — not male, not female, not quite adult.

Milly slides off her slacks. Walking to the window by her desk, she peers out upon the city. "Perfect." She pulls the handle of the nearby door. It swings down into a narrow, unkempt bed. She lies, stuffing a flimsy pillow under her neck. "Cat, wake me in time."

"OK."

Snuggling her back against the wall, Milly's face relaxes. But as she sleeps, her fingers flex and release. Her feet work overtime.

On the box top of her jigsaw puzzle, Godzilla towers over Tokyo. But its thousand pieces lie a scrambled mess on Milly's table. In her kitchen, the stove reduces itself from boil to simmer.