I hopped out of the taxi and walk up the stoop to my small, crappy apartment in the south side of Chicago. I checked my phone one last time. The last text I got was from Zoe this morning at 8am which said: Hey I’m really, really worried about you. When you get this, please text me. I’ll be at the apartment, come home as fast as you can. Oh great, she’s here. I trudged up the steps to the third floor and opened it, it being not locked like usual. She was sitting on the worn couch, on her laptop. The noise of the door closing caused her to look up from the glowing screen. “OH MY GOD I’VE BEEN WORRIED SICK ABOUT YOU. WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN?!” She screamed, causing my head to pound. “Jesus calm down, I’m fine…” I said, walking to the kitchen. I didn’t need her piercing voice right now. What I needed was some tea and a Tylenol. “AND WHO’S CLOTHES ARE YOU WEARING?! THEY DON’T LOOK LIKE JACOBS!” She said, following me straight into the kitchen. “Just hold your shit, go sit back down, and when I have my tea and something for this terrible head ache.”
Her face was totally unforgettable when I told her that it was Fall Out Boy, her all-time favorite band, who retrieved me from the alley. At first, there was no way to convince her. Then, finally, when I showed her Patrick’s number and I told her the story at least like 6 times, she FINALLY believe me. “WHAT WAS PETE LIKE?! DID HE SMELL GOOD?! WAS HE NICE?! DID YOU TELL THEM ABOUT ME?!” “Whoa, Whoa, Whoa! You can ask him yourself. I think I’m gonna hang out with them again before Saturday….” Then her face got a terribly panicked look on her face. “TOMORROW?! LIKE BECAUSE THAT’S THE DAY BEFORE FRIDAY!!!” She was yelling. If she didn’t shut up, we we’re gonna get one angry knock on our door in a few minutes. I covered her mouth and said “Yes, now shut the fuck up…” I took a calming sip of my tea and waited for her to process all of this. “OH MY GOD WHAT AM I GONNA WEAR?!?!” She yelled once more. “Preferably clothes…” I said, rolling my eyes. “OH HUSH I’M GONNA GO LOOK FOR AN OUTFIT RIGHT NOW!!” She said, running into her room. I decided now was the time to text Patrick. I sent a simple hello and with that, a great big banging knock came at my door. Oh my god, please don’t be him. PLEASE DEAR GOD, DON’T BE HIM. The door opened and in he walked. Jacob, my abusive ex-boyfriend, came straight in. His face was absolutely red and I saw a glint of hatred in his eyes. “Thought you could just get rid of me, you little slut? Think again.” He said right before running over to me and back handing me in the face.
I yelped in pain as tears sprung from my eyes. I held my hot cheek in my hand looked up to the muscular figured towering over me. “Please…stop…” I mustered out before he smacked me once more, making my fragile body fall to the ground. “I’ll stop when I want to fucking stop.” He said and kicked me in the stomach. I gasped for air. “Zoe…help…” I breathed out. She didn’t come. She probably had her head phones in, listening to yet another Fall Out Boy song. I tried to crawl out of his reach or grab something to defend myself but he caught me by the hair and dragged me back. “And where the fuck do you think you’re going?” He said, kicking me in the stomach again. I was gonna vomit, I could feel it bubbling in my stomach. He bent down and punched me 3 or 4 times in the face. “This is what you get for leaving me yesterday, sweetie. Don’t do it again or I’ll kill your ass.” He grinned before kicking me in the face. The last thing I remembered was the deep chuckle of Jacobs and then everything fading black.
