I Don't Feel Safe Anymore Novels & Stories

APRIL The apartment is empty when I get back. Being at home used to feel good, safe, familiar. Tonight, none of that is there. Safety no longer exists here, not in the way it used to. Something has shifted, something cracked open, and it feels like there is no way to close it again. The world I believed in feels fake now, like a set built just for me. The curtain has been pulled back, and what is behind it is nothing like I expected.

ALEJANDRA. I feel safe—safer than I ever have in my life. It’s not an usual feeling for me. I’ve always felt safe. I grew up with two older brothers and an older sister who always looked out for me. I’ve never had a true reason to fear, aside from being scared to touch people. But right now, it’s a different kind of safe. I feel like, for the first time, I can truly be myself. No hiding being a fake diagnosis. No half truths.

I felt myself longing to be with him and it worried me in more ways than one. The feel of his touch, the smell of his cologne was coming at me at a rapid pace that I quietly told myself to step back. I feared that if I stayed within his proximity I might do something I might regret later. As I attempted to take a step back I felt myself sway a little too quickly. He immediately reached out and wrapped his arms around me. “Are you okay?” As he held on to me I could feel his tight muscular arms around me making me feel safe and secure.

Ignoring them for now, my fingers danced frantically across the keyboard. Brianna: you need to come get me. I don't feel safe. I think I'm in danger.

I lift my hand to caress the one-day-old stubble that peppers his face, as the red on it transfers to his skin. Getting his shirt off his body, he wraps me in the cloth. It brushes against my bruises, a hiss spilling through my mouth, but my hands clutch it around me tightly. Covered in safe hands, I expected to feel good, to feel relieved, and safe. Yet, all I feel is the dread, the loss, and the pain hovering over my heart and slowly seeping in and breaking me with comfort. Well, people are right. You just dont feel happy, and calm in your safe space, instead your real safe is when you can express yourself without wanting to hold back, and hide.

“That’s what I said.” I ignored his rude tone. “Is that probable here? I thought this was a safe place to be.” “That was before tonight,” he admitted. “You were exposed to a lot of people tonight. Anything could happen.” I tried not to allow fear to fill me up but it was incredibly difficult. To know I wasn’t safe, even here, was discouraging. I was sleeping peacefully before but now, that was about to change. I’d have to be alert in case the house was invaded.

“Alex…” “I said I don't know.” His tone was sharper this time. Not angry at me. Frustrated. I could see it. He was angry at himself. I wrapped my arms around myself. “How long have they known?” “Long enough.” A cold sensation moved through my body. “What does that mean?” “It means we can't stay here.” I looked around the room. The hotel suddenly didn't feel safe anymore. The door. The windows. The hallway. Everywhere I looked, I imagined someone waiting.

After all, the sense of vulnerability I now feel in my own home, the fear that someone could come back and wreak more havoc, makes the idea of leaving the city seem more appealing by the minute. But the prospect of getting in the way of Karl’s election still weighs heavily on my mind. If it gets out that I went to stay with him, it could just make things worse for him. The last thing he needs is reporters showing up to his house, or even losing potential votes because of me. And yet, I can’t help but wonder if it’s simply too unsafe here. Between the reporters swarming out front like sharks in a feeding frenzy, negligent police officers, and now people throwing literal bricks through my wind

My back carried faint scrapes from rough bark and rougher passion. And yet… I felt good. Not just sated. Not just fucked-out and boneless. Safe. The word hit me like a slap and I froze, face still pressed into the pillow. Safe. When was the last time I’d woken up feeling safe without any of the men beside me? Was this bad development? I shoved the thought down hard. Buried it under the familiar armor of sarcasm and self-preservation. Feelings like that were dangerous. They made you soft. They made you stay.

But she just curled up on her bed instead, blankets up to her chin, staring at the wall. For the first time in her life… she didn’t feel safe in her own home. And the messed up part? The only place she had felt safe recently… …was when he was there. *** Y’all. Is it just me or is something WAY deeper going on?? 👀 Comment your thoughts. ***