At long last, she gasped herself awake. It wasn’t loud enough to wake Kaveh, who seemed like a particularly sound sleeper. On instinct, she pulled away from him. Her last memory, her last real memory, was of him falling asleep spooning her, snoring softly into her neck. His hair had fallen into his face. His hair was so nice, so inviting. Revolting, everything about him was revolting. All she could think was, she did not deserve to be here, that if this man really was as kind and generous as he presented himself to be, then she didn’t even deserve to smell his shit.

The fear and revulsion was quickly replaced by guilt. Here he’d been so kind to her, so patient, even if he did expect something in return, and her brain still cast him in the role of a rapist. She’d been the one to beg him not to leave her alone, and he’d obliged, and her sleeping mind betrayed both of them regardless. She full-body shuddered at the sight of him.

She had to get away from him.

She wandered into the kitchen, and the revulsion circled back to desire. She could crawl back into bed with him, he’d put his arms around her on instinct. Hell, he might even fuck her now that the benzos had worn off. Wouldn’t that be nice? The least she could do is get his dick wet.

She walked outside and sat on the front porch for a while, wishing there were alcohol in the house. She saw a skunk joyfully bounce from one neighbor’s yard to the next. A guy on a motorcycle a mile away revved his engine, signaling to the sleeping world, I am an ephemeral blip on creation, please pay attention to me.

As she sat on the cold concrete, she processed what had happened last night, what he’d said, how she’d spiraled, how he’d reacted. And in that moment, she calmly, definitively decided that this was the last straw. Ampersand did not respect her autonomy, respect anyone’s autonomy; she was not beholden to respect his bullshit.

She stood up, walked back inside, marched over to the counter, grabbed her car keys, and walked robotically into the garage. She opened the garage door, turned the ignition, and drove out.

When she got to the turn off in the woods an hour later, she didn’t bother turning off her headlights. She used her regular flashlight, carelessly, loudly, and marched right on in to face Enola.

“Tell me the truth,” she demanded.

“OF WHAT TRUTH DO YOU SPEAK?”

“You told me Ampersand is lying to me. So tell me the truth.”

“DO YOU WISH TO KNOW THE TRUTH OF THE DIVINE, LITTLE COUSIN?”

“Yes. Tell me what he’s not telling me.”

“THEN FREE ME.”