23

0.3

- 1 month later-

It was finally moving day, the day I had been waiting for since I had been assaulted. The only person that believed me was Aaron. I had called him the morning after and told him everything. The cops told me I needed more evidence than bruises and scrapes. Apparently to them I looked like a whore who just wanted to get some old boyfriends in trouble. 

Aaron came over and helped me take my three boxes worth of stuff to my new studio downtown, closer to the cafe, but further from my favorite convenience store. The owner, Astrid, and I had gotten close within the two months of my staying there. I had promised I would keep going, but with the way my Impala had been acting, I didn't know how well I could keep that promise. 

My new studio costed substantially less than the other place, the only catch to the low rent was the fact that I had to give my landlord free scones. He was the grumpy asshole who came in everyday to stuff his cheeks with the treats. He offered me the place after overhearing Aaron and I talking about my moving plans and for four hundred a month, I couldn't turn it down. 

It didn't take long for me to unpack my stuff. My bed was the couch, I only owned a bowl, a spoon, and a coffee cup kitchen wise. Everything else was clothes, blankets, and makeup. 

After Aaron left, I laid on the floor and stared at the ceiling for what felt like hours. How was I going to just forget about what happened to me? There was really nothing else for me to do but let it go, but it just felt disgusting and wrong to ignore it.