Heading home from dropping Darrell off to meet with his team, I feel relieved. For the first time in days, the noise in my head has stopped. I’m hoping that this time apart will provide me with the answers that I need in order to make the right decision for my future.

Darrell wasn’t happy that I stayed home, but he really didn’t have a choice in the matter, seeing as I didn’t give him one.

Looking down at my phone, I feel terrible for bailing on Latch. He called and texted me, clearly upset. It killed me to not go and meet with him, but I couldn’t. I had to keep up the fake persona for Darrell, to get him out of town. And honestly Latch and I are done.

Deleting the messages from Latch makes me feel queasy. Thinking of truly never talking to him again is hard, but it’s what I need to do. I have to put myself first for once in my life. I’m sure he is already over me and off fucking God only knows how many women all over New York. If I thought I couldn’t trust Darrell to fuck around on me, what would it mean to be in a relationship with a fucking escort?

I wish now more than ever that I had my parents to turn to. Even though I was adopted, I was blessed to be chosen by two amazing people. Both of them were so loving and accepted me as their own from day one. I’ve felt their loss every day since they were ripped from me in a tragic car accident that ended both their lives instantly.

Tears gloss over my eyes and I wipe them away, knowing that nothing is going to bring them back.

Part of the reason I’ve stayed with Darrell as long as I have is because if it weren’t for him, I never would have gotten through the grief of losing them. And in that process, I became frightened of what another loss would do to me, I don’t want to imagine what’ll happen if Darrell and I divorce and I’m on my own. So I’m willing to stay with him for that shred of security. As foolish as it might sound, I don’t want to end up alone.

I thank the driver and walk back inside the lobby to our condo. Taking the elevator up to our floor, my phone vibrates – it’s Darrell. Things went well with the coaches. I’ll text you as soon as we land, thank you for everything.

Fly safe, is all I text back, not sure what else to say to him. Entering our apartment, I flip the TV on, knowing that I need to keep busy, ‘cause if I don’t keep my mind occupied right now, I might go crazy.

Changing out of the stupid outfit that I had to wear to put on a show for the paparazzi feels so good. I hated being fake, going out with Darrell, letting him have his hands on me, while I waited like some trophy wife for him to sign autographs and snapped pictures of him and the fans. All the while, I acted like everything was fucking normal and had a big stupid ass grin on my face, when all I really wanted to do was curl into a ball on the couch. Now, I finally get to do just that; taking a seat I flip the TV on and aimlessly get lost. I find serenity in this moment of solitude. I never knew something so simple could mean so much to me.

I must’ve drifted off as the sun has set and the TV is showing cartoons. Blinking a few times, I rub my eyes and then an excruciating pain hits me in my stomach. It knots and cramps so bad, worse than anything I’ve ever felt before.

What the fuck? I’ve barely eaten lately.

I take in a few deep breaths and adjust myself on the couch, watching the creepy bunny on the screen as it chases a car while riding a skateboard. What the fuck is wrong, am I dreaming? I ask myself, but the room around me suddenly spins and I barely make it to the kitchen sink before I get sick.

I stand, gripping the edge of the granite countertop, so sweaty and hot. Dry heaving a few more times, there is nothing left and everything inside of me burns. Then the room begins to morph into blackness. I brace myself, afraid that I am going to pass out. Tears stream down my face and I fear that Darrell has done something to me.

I gasp for air, keeping focused on the soap dispenser as it comes in and out of my view, puffing rapid, short breaths.

I need to dial 911 and I search for my phone, but my body can no longer stand, and slowly I slide down the cabinets, crying – afraid – panicked. As I lay flat against the smooth cherry wood floor, I look up at the ceiling and close my eyes to stop the room from spinning, letting the tears flow.

How did he do this to me?

I try and think back and then it all makes sense, his sudden niceness, cooking for me for the first time ever, and his persistence that I come on the road with him. Dammit, I should’ve kept up my guard better. I ate the food he cooked me and drank what he gave me. Regardless if we switched plates or not, he still could have put something in one of my drinks.

Even through the pain, as unbearable as it is, I will myself to get up, fighting, knowing my phone is close and determined that Darrell is not going to win. But the pain is something fierce and hits me again, causing me to fall to the ground. My body stiffens, the cramping so bad. My insides are on fire. A storm is brewing like no other in my stomach. This is a pain I’ve never experienced, and then the dry heaves take over again, and right now, I am more scared for my life than I have ever been.