Twenty-Nine
I need to go to sleep. Tomorrow is a big day.
But every single noise—amplified by the apartment stripped of her personality—makes me jump. I consider having a small drink or maybe one of those panic-attack pills from the ER to calm my nerves, but I feel like I need to be on my guard in case Rob goes full psycho and shows up again or throws himself through my window with an axe.
I have the meat tenderizer under my pillow and my trusty softball bat from the one high school year I played softball just to prove to my brother that I was athletic. News flash: I am not athletic. But I could swing a bat into Rob’s head if he was coming to do murder on my person.
All this time I’ve been worried about Sam storing body parts in an old shoebox.
Seems I’ve been barking up the wrong wor
