Macto

5; How to Escape the World

"Who was that guy talking to you outside your physics class today?" His tone was oddly calm, laced with an underlying bitterness. Josh had always been the jealous type.

I rolled my eyes as if he was standing in the room with me.

"Nobody. Absolutely nobody." I kept my voice at a hushed whisper, terrified that "he" and the random strangers in my home would acknowledge my presence.

My shitty flip phone was clung to my face as I was huddled in the corner of my microscopic bedroom, with the door locked and the lights switched off. It was the only item I had allowed myself to buy with the saved up money.

Every time he would have "small get togethers" like this one, it did not end well for me. There were certain incidences that had left a permanent scar in my soul, when certain men would..

"Did you even hear what I said? Brita!" My boyfriend's voice cut me off on the other side of the line.

"No, I'm sorry josh. I'm just a bit distracted,"

His scoff was evident and I could practically hear him fuming.

"Why? Are you thinking about another guy? Was it the one from physics? I swear to god Brita I will not hesitate..."

My time came to put his tirade to bed, so I simply told him what I always did when he was like this.

"No, no. I'm sorry you feel like that, but that is not the truth. I am not thinking about anyone else," the exhaustion in my words was evident.

Deep down, in the logical part of my mind, I knew that it was not my job to be apologizing. I knew that he was the one acting with accusation and blame, and that I was the victim. He had no justification to claim that I was thinking about someone else when there was absolutely no evidence. Unfortunately, I did not have the will to listen to that side anymore, so I did what was easiest.

"That better be the case, Brita. I will see you tomorrow." The phone call came to an abrupt end, just in time to hear the shattering of a wine glass and a high pitched squeal.

He was lucky that there were only six apartments on this floor, or someone would have already called for the noise.

I chucked my electronic device onto the twin bed and crept across my room, silently praying that the creaks from beneath my feet would go unnoticed by the visitors.

Once I was safety emerged in the bathroom, I scrubbed my face.

I had never been one to wear makeup, washing my face had just become a necessary habit.

In the blink of an eye, I was tangled beneath the sheets, staring at the blackness around me. My mind wandered to her, as it always did. Where was she? Was she safe? There were too many possibilities.

Faint mutters and the sound of drinks clinking against the counter could be detected, indicating that the "party" was dying down.

Honestly, the people who showed up in my home on nights like these always remained a mystery. Curiosity would occasionally build up, but I would quickly remember that the less I knew about his life and his actions, the better off I was. My heart began to pound with furiousness as I forced myself to remember that single time. The single time one of the "visitors" had found his way into my room.

The stench of his breath was an equal and haunting mixture of liquor and smoke, something I could never erase. As soon as my door had clicked open, I remember screaming at myself internally for not locking it. His raspy voice played over and over again like a broken record as he leaned over me in the bed. Screams filled my throat, but there was no oxygen. I was too afraid. Too horrified. The strangers hand had made its way down my body, and chills had shot up, along with the nausea..