[center][h1][color=LightSeaGreen]Josephine Jacobs[/color][/h1][/center]
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[center]Western Shore Neighborhood[/center]

[color=LightSeaGreen]”I’m all set! Thanks for your help today. Appreciate it!”[/color]

Josephine waved goodbye to a muscular man who was currently climbing into the driver's seat of a moving truck, now empty. She held a smile plastered on her face until he began to pull away from the curb, the feigned happiness disintegrating immediately. 

Slowly, she closed the door to her newly leased condo. Closing her eyes, she pressed her back against the door and took in a deep breath. She held it for a brief moment before letting out a deep sigh and opening her icy blues once again. Standing there against the door, she took in the room for what seemed like the first time. She had been here since 5am, moving in, but she had been running on autopilot. Get shit done. Feel later. 

Unfortunately, “later” was now. Finally alone in her new condo, she felt the weight of the world settle snugly atop of her shoulders once again. Everything still felt so surreal and the past seven days had been a complete blur. Exactly one week ago, almost to the hour, her and her boyfriend had gotten into another argument and he drove a kitchen knife into her right forearm. She could still see it in her mind's eye so vividly. The anger in his eyes, the red hot flash of pain in her arm before adrenaline numbed her out, and the way her heart pounded as he raised the knife again as if he was about to take another stab at her. She had bolted into their room before he had the chance, slamming the door and locking it quickly behind her. They had a bathroom connected to their bedroom, where she went to tend to her arm while he screamed at her from the other room. It bled and hurt like hell, but luckily it didn’t seem that he had hit anything too important. The bleeding stopped eventually and she dressed her wound with some left over bandages they had in the medicine cabinet, but then the excruciating pain set in...

Loud vibrations from her pocket suddenly snapped her out of the memory. She blinked a few times and reached into her sweater to grab her cell phone, where she had over 20 missed calls - not including countless text messages. She frowned, walking towards her new bedroom, contemplating picking up the phone. Her best friends name flashed across the screen: ZOEY 

She had sent two texts to her best friend within the week, but had yet to speak with her yet. She had texted her mother once, letting her know that she was okay and not to worry. She hadn’t talked to Evan, her boyfriend, at all. 

Josephine wasn’t ready to speak. She needed to be alone. She tossed her phone on the brand new king-size mattress, leaving it buzzing. Zoey would have to wait. 

For now, a shower was deeply needed. She felt disgusting from moving boxes and furniture with the mover all day. Plus, she just needed one of those long self-absorbed pity showers for once. It felt healing, almost. Her wound needed to be cleaned and re-bandaged, too. Moving boxes did exactly nothing to help her healing. She had felt the nasty scab rip open at one point… 

On the bright side, this was going to be the first night in a very long time that she would sleep in a bed that she actually wanted to be in. The first time she would feel relatively safe in 4 years. 

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