Chapter 11 – No Where To Turn
She hadn’t meant to move. But her body shifted before her mind caught up—like some part of her already knew. Knew what she needed.
She crossed the room slowly, knees stiff, muscles aching from class and from hours on her feet at work. In the corner sat her dresser, half-buried under dirty clothes, unopened mail, and to-do lists she hadn’t touched in weeks.
She pulled it open.
The business card lay where she’d left it. Sleek. Black. Unsmudged.
Blake Callahan.
Just a name. A number. And yet everything that had followed the crash hummed beneath it like static: the leather seats, the low certainty of his voice, the strange, steady calm of being seen for the first time.
She traced a finger over the lettering.
Her phone was in her hand before she realized it. Thumb hovering. Then typing.
Hey. I don’t know if you remember me…
She stared at the screen, chest tightening.
No. She couldn’t send that. Couldn’t be that girl—desperate, needy, hoping to be remembered when she barely remembered herself.
Her thumb hovered a second longer. Then pressed delete. The words vanished.
She set the phone down on the dresser. Slipped the card back into the drawer. Closed it. Out of sight. But not out of mind.
The phone vibrated just as the drawer clicked shut. For half a breath, her pulse leapt—irrational, impossible hope. Could it be him?
Then reality.
Her father.
She opened the message.
The city isn’t for everyone. You tried. You failed. You’re coming home. I’ll be there tomorrow to pick you up.
Her stomach knotted. The phone slipped from her hand onto the desk with a dull thud. She pressed her palms to her face, breathing through the sting.
No reply. She couldn’t—not without saying something she’d regret. Not without crumbling further.
Instead, she reached for a notepad, flipped to a blank page, and wrote only one line:
If I go back, I disappear.
She stared at it. Let the words sit like a truth she couldn’t take back.
Then she closed the notepad. Closed her eyes. And let the silence press in.