Francis escorted Rebecca into the restroom, his voice soft and reassuring, “I’ll close the door but wait right outside for you. If it makes you feel better, you can lock the door.” “Okay.”
Rebecca nodded, a blush creeping onto her cheeks at the gentle gesture. Holding hands had already made her slightly embarrassed, and his caring words only intensified that feeling. “Th-thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.”
With that, Francis turned and left, gently closing the door behind him.
Fumbling a bit in the unfamiliar surroundings, Rebecca finally managed to wash her hands after finishing her business. Just then, her phone, kept in her pocket, began to ring, piercing the quiet of the night.
It was still the same old phone, but to avoid Eddie Jones, she had switched to a new SIM card after checking into Southern District Sanatorium. Ever since she had moved to the sanatorium, her phone rarely rang. Other than Sherilyn, hardly anyone called her.
Puzzled, Rebecca thought it might be Sherilyn. She swiped to answer, “Hello…?”
“Rebecca White.” Eddie’s voice came through, “Finally, I’ve got you on the line!” Rebecca’s heart skipped a beat, her face draining of color, “You, you…” “What about me?”
On the other end, Eddie’s laughter was cold, “So, you’ve found yourself a sugar daddy and holed up in Southern District Sanatorium, huh? Even changed your phone number! You’ve gone off the deep end, haven’t you?” “No, that’s not it…”.
Rebecca, pale and trembling, protested, “I haven’t! Don’t talk nonsense!”
“Nonsense?”
Eddie’s voice dripped with scorn, “Last time, I almost caught you in the act! Rebecca White, just you wait. When I get my hands on you, I’ll make sure the whole world knows you’re nothing but a tramp. I’ll tarnish your name so badly, you’ll wish you were dead… You remember how that feels, don’t you? Want to go through that again? Ha!”
“Ah!”
Terrified, Rebecca dropped the phone and rushed to the door.
“Rebecca White?”
Hearing her scream, Francis, who had been waiting outside, grew concerned, “Rebecca White, what’s wrong?”
Worrying she might have hurt herself, Francis reached for the doorknob and opened the door.
Before he could react, Rebecca was running towards him, her face ashen, her eyes wide with terror. “Rebecca White!”
Francis furrowed his brow, catching her just in time and pulling her close, his hand cradling the back of her head. Rebecca’s eyes were wide open, her body shaking uncontrollably as she murmured, “It was him, it was him…” Him?
Francis didn’t need to ask to know, “Your husband?”
“Yes!”
Rebecca nodded frantically, her voice barely above a whisper, “He said he won’t let me go… called me a tramp… said he’s going to catch me…” Tears silently streamed down her face as she looked up at Francis.
“Rebecca!”
Francis cupped her face, looking into her eyes with a firm gaze, “Don’t be afraid. You’re safe here. He can’t get in. He can’t hurt you. No one can.” Rebecca was skeptical, her teeth chattering from fear, “Really?”
“Yes.”
Francis’s voice was low and soothing yet filled with conviction, “Trust me. It’s just you and me here, and today’s your birthday. We’re here to celebrate it…”
Gradually, Rebecca started to calm down, tears still marking her cheeks. She hadn’t even noticed that Francis had been holding her hand all this while, but now she clung to it, seeking comfort.
Seeing Rebecca still shaken, Francis helped her to sit down and decided
to pour her a glass of whiskey. In moments like these, he figured. whiskey would do a better job at calming her nerves than wine
*
QUMS