???????

I feel a little drained after Michael and I talk. I was already tired because Kiara woke me up before nine in the morning, but the whole conversation with Michael made me even more tired somehow.

Michael did make us breakfast. I don't really have much in my kitchen food-wise because, as it has been established, I can't cook. He fussed at me for having pre-cooked bacon and no eggs, but I was forgiven because I had yogurt and granola so he could make us parfaits.

He leaves after breakfast, reminds me to have fun again, and then he's gone.

I get back in bed and sleep for a few more hours.

When I wake back up, it's close to noon. I drag my ass out of bed and try to be productive until it's time to get ready for my date.

I cleaned up my kitchen and my living room. I light my favorite candle on the coffee table and sit underneath my hair dryer because my hair is still pretty wet.

After an hour, my hair is dry, and I sit on my back patio and write until my phone rings.

Well, it's not my phone, exactly. I bought one of those untraceable phones at a gas station on my drive here. I used it to text my mom. I told her I left town and that I was fine. I did not want to worry her, but I didn't want to give her my new number or my new address either.

I answer after a moment. "Mom."

"Alyna Marie, what the hell is wrong with you?"

I'm not surprised that's the first thing she says to me. "I've been texting you since last week. You haven't responded."

"I thought I was being scammed." But she can't tell a real scammer when they call her. Okay.

"I have been worried about you for two weeks! Two! No one has heard from you. I almost reported you missing."

Almost.

How long did it take her to notice I was gone?

I shake my head. "Well, if you'd answer your phone, you wouldn't be worried. I'm okay."

"You left without telling anyone! Where are you?"

"Momma, I told you I was leaving." She and Kiara have the same problem of not listening to me.

"When are you planning on coming back home?"

"I'm not! It's not safe. Vic —"

"Dean," she corrects, "is worried about you." I almost threw the phone into the lake.

Vic's whole name is Dean Vicario. Everyone called him Vic, but he wanted me to call him Dean. I was fine with that until one time I called him Vic jokingly, and he backhanded me in front of his friends.

It took me a few months after I left him to be able to call him Vic without flinching.

"Vic wants me dead! He tried to kill me!" What about that doesn't she understand?