The house is silent and gloomy when I wake up the next morning, despite the sun shining bright outside. I know Eric's gone without even having to check the rest of the house. I can't feel his presence anywhere, and it feels like a void, like a chunk of me is missing. I have the memory of it, but it's gone. Forever.

The thought brings a fresh eruption of hot tears from my eyes. I haven't felt this alone since my mother died.

A ray of sunshine is hitting the kitchen counter, glinting off the screen of my new phone and illuminating the piece of paper laying next to it.

He left a note. The rush of happiness as I see it makes my head spin. He didn't just leave. He thought of me. He wants me here.

I stub my toe on one of the dining chairs as I rush to read the note, but I hardly feel the pain.

Joy,

I had to go to work. I'll be back this evening. We can talk then.

- Eric

Three crisp hundred-dollar bills are laying next to the note, and they put his words in a completely different perspective. He didn't add, "If you still want to" at the end of the note, but it's implied. He left me enough money to leave. Go back home, if I want to and never look back.

I thought about doing that last night, as I cried myself to sleep, waiting for him to come to me. Which he didn't. But this morning, I knew I'm staying. We'll talk, work it out, figure it out. I know he doesn't want to hurt me, not really, he just needs to realize it too. Needs to stop holding onto grief and pain from the past. Because I know that's what's behind it all. I feel it, and I know I can heal him, make him feel better, teach him to embrace the good and let go of the hurt. I know what broken looks like. I grew up in a family of broken people. My cousin Wendy, trafficked at eighteen, my dad, widowed too young and left an alcoholic mess. But they both healed, both found the joy in living again. Eric can too. And I can help.

I'm just dialing my home number to tell Dad I'm OK, when loud, urgent knocking echoes through the house. I set the phone down, my hands shaking, the picture of Julie's lifeless body laying in a pool of blood clear in my mind. The fear that I'm about to end up like her, that her killer has come after me now isn't even fully formed in my brain, yet it suffuses my every cell.

The knocking starts again.

"Joy? Joy, are you in there?" Terry's voice sounds through the door. "It's me, Terry. Open the door."

The unbearable weight of terror lifts, and I practically fly to the door, fling it wide.

His relief as he sees me is so unmistakable, I feel it too.

"Thank God you're alright," he says, striding into the house and shutting the door behind him. "Hurry up and get dressed. We need to leave."

"What? Why?" Relief is still flooding me, making me feel giddy, but what he's saying is so weird.

"I need to get you away from here. Eric's been arrested for Julie's murder. You're not safe here," he says in a rush, his cheeks flushed a dark crimson, which is clashing horribly with his blond hair and blue eyes. "Thank God he hasn't harmed you too. You're safe now. I'm here."

The torrent of emotions whooshing inside me reaches a blinding speed as the full meaning of his words dawns.

"Eric was arrested?" I mutter. "For murder?"

No. It can't be, it absolutely can't be. No. Absolutely not. Eric didn't do it. I know he didn't. I know it.

"Yes, Joy. We need to go, right now," Terry urges. "I need to get you to a safe place, far away from him. Get ready."

The urgency in his voice is enough to get me moving. I rush to the bedroom, get dressed faster than I've ever gotten dressed, stuff the clothes Eric brought me back into the suitcase, zip it shut. I grab the phone and money off the kitchen counter reflexively, the note Eric left fluttering to the floor. The strongest urge to pick it up and take it too floods me.

"Let's go!" Terry says.

I leave the note on the floor and follow him outside.

The thoughts rushing through my head make no sense, but the emotions they bring cause tears to well in my eyes.

"You're safe now," Terry says. "He can't hurt you. I'll protect you."

But it feels like he's not even talking to me. Though I might be imagining that, because nothing makes sense anymore. Could I have been so wrong about Eric? Could I have?