2. ONE WAY OUT

SOPHIA

The slip was still in its box in my closet, tags attached, wrapped in tissue paper. David had given it to me with an apologetic grimace and a whisper ‘Dad picked it out, just keep it somewhere visible.’

Even then, I'd known what it meant. Mike had been planning this for years.

He walked to the door, paused with his hand on the knob. "Oh, and Sophia? If you're thinking about running…”

I wasn't that stupid.

I'd seen what happened to people who ran from Big Mike. Their bodies turned up in dumpsters, or rivers, and if he was feeling in a good mood, maybe in shallow graves Upstate that the police never managed to find.

"I won't run," I said.

Mike closed the door behind him, and locked it.

I waited for thirty minutes, then I was on my feet. My hands were shaking because fuck it, I'd thought I would have more time.

David was dead. Big Mike wanted to rape me. And my mother was dying in a hospital room in Queens with no idea that her daughter had sold her soul to keep her breathing.

I caught sight of myself in the full-length mirror by the bathroom.

I was twenty-four years old. My blonde hair was long and straight because Big Mike preferred it that way. My body was slim, and I was dressed in the black Dior dress I'd worn to my husband's funeral.

I crossed to my dresser and pulled out the bottom drawer. Under the winter sweaters was the emergency kit I'd assembled six months ago.

It was three thousand dollars in cash stolen from David's wallet, five dollars at a time over two years. And a burner phone, fully charged, with exactly one number programmed into it.

My hands trembled as I stared at that phone.

I bought it eight months ago, and programmed the number six months ago. I hadn't had the courage to call it yet, but I didn't have a choice now.

I grabbed a sanitary pad, took a knife from the kitchen and got to work.

Getting blood on the pad was the easy part. I had learned to fake blood stains back in high school when I'd needed an excuse to get out of gym class.

I cut my thumb shallow so it wouldn’t need stitches and dripped the blood onto the pad until it was soaked.

I slid the pad on my pant, and pulled on the pink slip. I stared at myself in the mirror again and barely recognized the woman staring back.

She looked scared, and desperate. Perfect.

I grabbed the knife and slid it under the mattress within easy reach. I would use it if Mike tried to rape me despite the blood.

Then I pulled out my real phone, and opened the camera. I'd always wanted to be a photographer. I'd applied to NYU's photography program, and got in with a scholarship.

Then Mom got sick, and the medical bills started piling up. My father had died, and I had met David at a charity gala and the course of my life had changed.

"No woman in this family will work," Big Mike had said at our engagement dinner. "What would people say? That I can't provide for my family?"

And just like that, my camera had gone into a box in the closet.

My heart was hammering so hard I could feel it in my throat. My hands were soaked with sweat.

The door opened at exactly four o'clock, and Big Mike stood in the doorway, dressed in gym shorts and a white tank top.

His eyes raked over me hungrily. "Well, look at you."

I forced myself to smile. "Do you like it?" I asked softly.

"I like it very much." He crossed the room toward me, and I could smell the whiskey on his breath. "I'm sure you already knew that. Beautiful sluts always know what they do to men."

"I wanted to look nice for you," I said instead. I could have puked on the words. I nearly did.

Mike's smile widened. He climbed onto the bed, and the mattress dipped under his weight.

"You know, I never understood what David saw in you. You're pretty, but there are a thousand pretty girls in New York. What made you special?"

"I don't know," I whispered.

"I do." He reached out and traced a finger down my arm, and I had to concentrate very hard on not flinching. "You're smart, and adaptable. You knew how to play the game, and how to survive. That's rare, Sophia.”

He leaned closer, his right hand cupping my breast, while the left moved to my thigh. "I like that about you. I'm going to enjoy breaking you myself."

I let tears fill my eyes. "I need to tell you something first," I said.

Mike paused. "What?"

"I'm…" I swallowed, wearing the picture of embarrassment. "I'm on my period. I didn't realize it would come today. I'm so sorry."

The heat in his eyes dimmed. "You're lying."

"I'm not." I gestured vaguely toward my lap. "I swear. I wanted to wait until after, I just couldn't. I'm sorry. I know you're disappointed."

His hand tightened on my thigh, hard enough to burn. "If you're lying to me, Sophia, I will make you regret it in ways you can't imagine. Do you understand?"

"I'm not lying." I forced myself to meet his eyes. "Please, just check."

For a long moment, he stared at me. Then his hand moved higher, his rough fingers pushing aside the lace.

I held my breath. I’d be dead if he realized I was lying.