APRIL Sitting in a stall in the ladies’ bathroom, the world outside feels distant, like it belongs to someone else. Thoughts keep looping, dragging me around in circles. Am I trapped here with Diablo, or am I free to leave? The question feels heavier than it should.At his house, rules were laid down as if I belonged to him, as if my choices were no longer entirely my own. Permission was required for everything, a constant need to check in, to tell him where I was going. His protection felt more like control.At times, it made me feel less like a guest and more like a possession, as if my freedom had been borrowed and could be taken back at any moment.And yet, sitting here, the reality is different. The bowling alley is public. The door is just there, waiting. Walking out would be easy. No alarms, no guards, no one stopping me. A cab, a ride home, and none of this would matter anymore. It is my chance to leave, to escape, if that is what I want.But the thought of walking away sits
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