Run To Me

The bathroom door clicks shut louder than I expected. Or maybe everything just feels louder right now. I twist the lock with shaking hands, pressing my forehead against the cool wood for a second, like it might hold me together if I stay still long enough. The house is quiet on the other side, but not for long. A door slams somewhere down the hall, sharp enough to make me flinch. My breath catches, body going still like it always does - waiting, listening, bracing for what comes next. Footsteps heavy and fast go through the house, then the front door slams. Silence, real silence this time, fills the small apartment. He’s gone, but I don’t move right away; I’ve learned better than that. Sometimes he leaves and comes right back. Sometimes it's a test that I fail altogether. So I stand there staring at the door, counting my breaths. One… Two… Three… The silence never breaks. I let go of the door, my hands still shaking, and I turn towards the mirror. I almost don’t look. I’ve gotten good at ignoring my reflection, never looking straight on, so I don’t have to see what's looking back. But this time I knew I had to. So I looked, and I really wish I hadn’t. There’s a mark across my face, darkening and blooming under my skin in a way that just feels wrong. Too visible, too real. My breath catches once more, sharp and shallow like the air just won't stay in my lungs. He’s never… My fingers hover near it but don’t touch. I don’t want to feel it, convinced that if I didn’t, it wouldn’t be real. But it is, it’s there, and suddenly the room feels too small. I grip the edge of the sink, knuckles going pale, eyes locked on the girl in the mirror like she might disappear if I blink. She looks wrong… Not just the mark. The hair wasn’t mine. Long, brown, and falling in perfect waves down my back. I reach up without thinking, fingers catching in it and tugging. A wig, I remind myself. Of course it is. I let out something that almost sounded like a laugh, but it breaks halfway through. This person isn’t me. My eyes start to blur from the colored contacts, stinging. Even my own eyes don’t look like mine anymore. For a terrifying second, I don’t recognise myself at all. That's when it hits. Not all at once like a loud boom, just… Clearity… Taking my body wasn’t enough. He had to change it, shape it. Turn it into what HE wanted. Whatever memory he was still chasing… My stomach twists, fear rising fast and sharp with a thought. It’s a thought I’ve had before, I shake my head trying to make it disappear, but it doesn’t. My eyes flick towards the door, half expecting it to burst open at any minute. But it doesn’t. I have to leave… He’s gone… For how long, I don’t know, but if I want any resemblance of myself back, I have to leave… Not like this, though. I reach up and pull at the hair hard. My hands fumble as I pull it off, the motion rushed and almost clumsy. The weight of it disappears in an instant, and my real hair falls back into place. Bright copper waves fall short, softer, uneven in a way that feels right. My fingers move to my eyes next, hesitating just for a second before I reach for the contacts. It takes longer than it should—my hands are shaking too much—but eventually they come out, one and then the other. The world sharpens, grey-blue eyes meet my own gaze in the mirror, and for a second I just… look. I almost don’t recognise her, but a loud, hollow feeling opens up in my chest, something between fear and urgency. I don’t have time. The thought snaps me back into motion. I need to go. I rush out of the bathroom, pausing just long enough to listen again. The house stays still. Empty. My feet carry me toward the front door before I even think about it, fingers reaching for the handle— Locked. Of course it is. I glance around, heart picking up again, and spot the small hook by the door where the keys always hang. It’s empty, and my stomach drops. He took them. Of course, he took the only car. For a second, everything inside me threatens to collapse right there. No car. No way out. No plan. The fear rushes back in, louder now, trying to drown everything else out. Thoughts of doubt swim in my head, a storm building inside myself. You can’t leave. You have nowhere to go. You’ll have to come back anyway. He’ll find you… My hand tightens into a fist. No. I swallow hard, forcing myself to think past the panic. I don’t need the car. The thought feels fragile, but it holds. I just need to get away. My eyes scan the room, mind racing faster now, searching for something—anything. My phone. I left it on the kitchen counter. I move quickly, grabbing it with unsteady hands. My thumb hovers over the screen for a second, my breathing uneven. There’s only one person I can call. The idea alone makes my chest tighten. Not because I don’t trust her, but because saying it out loud makes it real. I tap her name anyway, and the phone rings once. Twice. Three times— “Hey, what’s up?” Cali’s voice is casual, normal. It almost breaks me. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out at first. My throat feels too tight, like the words are stuck somewhere deeper than they should be. “Lora?” she says again, softer this time. I can hear the worry building in her tone as I stay silent with my best friend. “You okay?” The words were sitting in my throat now. “No,” I whisper, and it comes out thinner than I expect. “I… I need help.” The words are barely a whisper when I get them out. There’s a pause on the other end, then Cali’s voice shifts to a sharper, more focused tone. “He hurt you again, didn’t he…” She asked. I press my hand harder against the counter, grounding myself. “I can’t stay here anymore,” I whisper. “He’s not here right now, and he took the car, but I don’t… I don’t want to be here when he gets back.” Another pause, shorter this time. “Okay,” she says, steady. “Loralie, you have to listen to me.” I nod automatically, even though she can’t see it. “We’re going to do this step by step, alright?” My chest tightens as I whisper once more, “Okay…” “Do you have a bag? Something you can carry?” She asked. My mind blanks for a second before catching up. “Yeah… yeah, I think so.” “Go get it. Just essentials. Nothing big, nothing that slows you down.” She instructs, and my feet move before I fully process it, like her voice is guiding me more than my own thoughts. I make it to the bedroom doorway and hesitate. I swallow hard, still afraid he’s hiding somewhere inside the apartment. Then I take another breath and step inside. There, tucked in the back of the closet, was an old backpack I had kept. I grab it, hands fumbling slightly with the zipper. Next, I pull open drawers, my movements rushed but clumsy at the same time. A pair of jeans. A shirt. Underthings. I throw on a black hoodie immediately. The rest I shove them into the bag, not folding, not thinking—just moving. “Done,” I breathe, still holding the phone to my ear. “Alright. Now take just a moment and look around. Is there anything important you need?” Cali asked. My eyes flick around the room, searching without really knowing what I’m looking for. And then my eyes land on the shelf. There, all warn, and fur mated together in spots was a stuffed pink pig. Everything in me stills. For a second, the noise in my head quiets completely. My fingers wrap around it, soft and familiar, warmth pressing into my palm. I haven’t touched it in so long. I hold the toy for just a second longer before placing it carefully into the bag. Not shoved. Placed. Like it matters. “Okay,” I say, zipping the backpack closed. My hands are still shaking, but there’s something steadier underneath them now. “Good,” she replies. “Now listen carefully.” I straighten slightly, heart pounding. “When you walk out that door, you don’t stop. You go straight to the bus stop on the main road, okay?” My throat tightens. “Okay…” “I’m calling Thomas. He’s closer. He’ll meet you there and bring you back to the bar.” Thomas. Cali’s little brother, who would chase after her and me in our youth. A small breath leaves me, something loosening just a little. “Okay.” “It’s ok, Lora, I’ll stay on the phone with you the whole time. You won’t go through this alone,” Cali reassured, and I sighed. I sling the backpack over my shoulder, the weight of it settling against my back. It’s not heavy. But it feels like everything at the same time. My feet move slowly this time, each step louder than it should be. The front door comes into view, and my heart starts racing again. If I open it… Everything changes. “Lora,” Cali says, quieter now, like she knows exactly where I am. “I’m right here.” My hand wraps around the handle, shaking. “I’m scared,” I admit. “I know,” she says. “But you’re not alone.” I take a breath, and then I open the door.