I lie under the blankets and stare at the perfect line of his shoes against the wall beneath the window, and I shiver, tugging the blanket up. There’s no music. The only noise I can make out is the faraway hum of traffic. I’m not sure how long I lie there, listening. Waiting for the sound of his footsteps. Wondering what he’s going to do to me. Wishing there were somewhere safer in this house to be, even though any bed here is an invitation to shame and hurt.
