My phone buzzed on the nightstand, and I dragged the duvet over my head. Maybe if I blocked out the sound, along with the rare English sunlight, my nightmares would all go away and I could return to my happy dream state.

The phone buzzed again, insistent that I look at it.

No.

It could be my mother, one of my sisters, or maybe my father. Worse, it could be Easton. My stomach rolled at the memory of the last time I’d let him hurt me. The way he’d looked at me. What I’d done.

My phone buzzed again.

“Damn it.” I snaked a hand out from under my duvet, and chilly air greeted my flesh. I fumbled around for the side table, eventually banging my wrist on the corner. Ouch. If that wasn't an omen, I didn’t know what was.

When my fingers closed around the phone, I dragged it under the covers with me. “Okay, world, what the hell do you want from me?” I mumbled.

Three text messages. Fantastic.

The first was from my mother.

Mom: Abena, call me immediately. I want to make sure you’re safe. Make sure you call me.

I rolled my eyes. I’d already called my mother and left her a voicemail. But my mother had a way of ignoring things that didn’t specifically fit what she wanted. And Helen Nartey didn’t want a voicemail. She wanted a live convo so she could try to berate me into coming back to DC.

The next message was from my sister Akos, the lawyer.

Akosua: Abbie, we need to discuss your arrangements with the condo. I served Easton with documents stating he has to vacate so you can sublet the place. You need to call me to review details.

Crap. That was the last thing I wanted to deal with.

The third message was from Easton.

Easton: Call me, we need to talk. Your sister wants me out of our place. I need some time to find somewhere else to go. Where are you? I called your sister, and she said you weren't there but wouldn’t tell me where you'd gone. Call me!!

I waited for the slice of pain. But nothing came. Just gray numbness. I felt free to go ahead and delete his message.

The phone buzzed in my hand again, causing it to tingle. God. Maybe I should have left the stupid thing back home. Started fresh.

The last text was from my sister Ama.

Ama: I think you're brave.

I smiled. Of course, Ama would support me, silently though, not out loud to the rest of the family. But still, she supported me. And that was why I loved her.