and looked around. She’d stayed there curled in a knot on the floor like discarded laundry for hours. She’d lost track of time. Willing herself to move, she pushed up on her hands and knees and slowly stood.
She glanced down at her nude body, the angry red bruises on her stomach and stickiness between her thighs quick and painful reminders. She shivered and not from a chill. She reached for her clothes on the floor, nearly falling over as her head spun. Holding on to the furniture and the walls, she finally made it to the bathroom. She sat down on the lid of the commode and turned on the tub. At least the hot water would wash away the remnants from the outside, but she didn’t think anything could cleanse her battered spirit.
How could she have allowed her life to get so ugly, so out of control? She didn’t know what to do, how to fix it. Too many people relied on her and she couldn’t let them down. There was no way out. If she quit, she knew that Conrad would blacklist her. She’d never be able to work in New York or any other major city again. If she went to the board, no one would believe her, not to mention how humiliated she would feel, having to confess the extent to which she’d participated over the past year.
She was trapped. Trapped by need, trapped by responsibility and trapped by her body. Conrad knew it and pushed all her hot buttons.
But it had gone too far now and she was afraid. She needed a way out, but she didn’t see any open doors in her future.
Her phone rang in the distance. She didn’t have the energy or the desire to get up and get it. She turned off the water to listen to the voice coming through the answering machine.
“Steph, it’s us, me Barbara and us,” she giggled, obviously excited. “We’re waiting for you at my house. Hurry up. And bring your laptop.”
Stephanie frowned in concentration. Waiting for her? What the hell for? Slowly the pieces began to fall into place and a glimmer of hope settled in her gut. Maybe a door was opening after all.
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