What Could I Do If the Police Wouldn’t Help Me?

I left the police station angry and frustrated, my hands clenched into fists as I pushed out the door. The officer I had spoken with barely listened to what I had to say. He wouldn’t even consider an investigation. I had been so sure when I had first started to tell him my story, but as I walked through what had happened I knew it sounded crazy. Even I began to doubt myself as I tried to convince the officer I had been kept against my will in a luxurious beach house.

Had it really been against my will? No, I had wanted to stay. Who wouldn’t?

The room I’d found had proven to be more than I could handle but that didn’t really make him a monster, did it? He had never tried to get me to do anything I was uncomfortable with. I never would have suspected he was into anything as perverse as what I’d found. Maybe it wasn’t even really his…maybe he had just bought the house and hadn’t renovated that room yet?

Just when I’d talked myself into believing it was all a misunderstanding, I remembered the photos and the journal. He had to have taken the pictures. And I had to assume the entry from the night we met, the one that said “Rohypnol 2 mg” meant something. I didn’t know a lot about drugs but I knew this was a popular date rape drug. But he hadn’t raped me. Actually, that first night, he had been a perfect gentleman.

None of it made any sense!

I needed to get somewhere I could think. If he really were following me, going home wasn’t an option. I didn’t have any reason to think he would hurt me and yet a primal instinct in me screamed RUN!

Standing on the sidewalk I was torn. If I turned left I could walk to my apartment. It would be a long walk, but I could get my car at least. Right would bring me back toward his house, but there were also hotels in that direction. I could rent a room to give me time to formulate a plan.

As I stood on the sidewalk, unable to make a decision I glimpsed movement at the side of the building to my right. My stomach clenched. I hadn’t seen more than one foot and part of a leg as someone rounded the corner, moving away from me. Where had he come from? I hadn’t seen anyone standing there when I came outside.

There was no way to know if it were him. It could have been anyone.

But my decision was made as I turned to the left.

This post is in response to the daily writing prompt Investigation and is part of something longer I am working on.

This post is a part of the story about the ex and comes after Is He Following Me at the Park?

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