Thankfully, the child protective services frowned upon that kind of parenting and took me away when I was ten. The rest of my years were spent bouncing around from home to home with a dirty file filled with offenses and destined to only land in the homes that were less than welcoming.

But my parents would be thrilled to know I carried their penance with me all these years. I still need these punching bags and although I don’t kneel on thorns anymore, I do find ways of torturing myself. I guess their methods truly fucking worked.

Shelby

I can’t get that asshole out of my head all day. Every single smile with every single patient is forced because I just hear his voice in my ear, his harsh commands that I obey, his pompous attitude like he’s so much stronger and tougher than I am.

Thankfully, I only have one appointment after lunch, so I call into the office to let them know I’m taking the afternoon to catch up on sleep. They know I was working late last night, and I’m a liability at some point anyway. Of course, I don’t catch up on sleep. I start browsing the internet, gleaning out every piece of information I can find on Rafe Nolan that is out there. I’ve already done the basic search, but now I want to know more. I want to know everything so that I can use it against him.

Once I get through the basic buillshit from the precinct, I find some social media accounts that he’s featured or tagged in. It takes me over an hour before I find a profile of a woman who works at Smokey’s Bar on the boardwalk. She tagged Rafe in a couple of pictures, which means he must have had a profile at one time. He’s looking pretty brooding in each of the pictures, until I get to one that makes my heart beat faster. She’s kissing him.

It looks like they’re at an event at the bar, and he’s a few years younger. She’s hanging on his shoulders, and he looks almost miserable. In a few of the pictures, he’s smiling, but I can tell he’s drunk in those.

The girl is pretty. She looks like the tough kind of pretty, the kind that comes with working around men and in bars. I bet she doesn’t take shit and could drink me under the table. I guess you’d have to be tough to date Rafe.

I click on her profile and see that she still works at Smokey’s. It’s Thursday afternoon, and if I make the excuses in my head right, I can convince myself that I’m not stalking anyone. I’m just going out for a drink after a long week. Thursday’s the new Friday, right?

I almost back out. Even after showering and putting on the nicest outfit in my closet—which is just a plain black skirt and flowery top I wear to every non-work event—I almost decide to check out a movie instead. Why do I even care about him? Why can’t I just hate him in peace and move on with my life?