pulling out my phone. I almost don’t turn it on. Almost. The nagging curiosity about the repeated calls overrides my better judgment. It doesn’t take long for my phone to buzz rapidly. One, two, ten, twelve texts flooding in. What the fuck? Unknown: Pick up the phone. Unknown: Where do you think you’re going? Unknown: Why would you wear that? Unknown: Answer the fucking phone! Unknown: Don’t you dare ignore me. Unknown: I’m only doing this because I care, don’t be afraid. Unknown: If he fucking touches you again, you’ll be sorry. It continues like that.
