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When life gives you lemons, you suck on it until you die. Sadly, I'm still sucking on them.

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My life had been great. Perfect even. The day I met Alicia, my wife, my life changed. She made me

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whole. She was an addition to my completion. I loved her with all my heart. And after two years

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of blissful marriage and finally trying for our first kid, she found out she had cervical cancer.

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Everything went to shit after that. We thought it would get better, but things got worse.

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I was going to lose her. I was going to lose my heart. And it shattered me to know that I had

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to watch her slowly die every day. Seven short years of marriage and nothing but memories to show for

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it. Nothing to bind our love. Nothing to show that she once existed in this cruel world.

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The day she died, it rained heavy as fuck. Even the sky in the heavens above knew it was a tragic

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day. I couldn't even make it home that day. I stayed in my vehicle and then rented a hotel for

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three days until her funeral. The funeral was quick. I held it at a church and then cremated her.

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Never had my life felt so gray, dull, empty. Alicia was all I had and she left me. The neighbors came,

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of course. They offered their support and told me everything would be okay. But they didn't know.

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They had no idea how much I loved this woman. Everything would not be fine.

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The last two years had been harder without her and it still is. And every year around her

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birthday and our anniversary, it worsens. It reminds me of what I've lost. There's no meaning

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to life anymore. What is the sense of going out there? Why should I be enjoying life when she is

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dead? When she can no longer enjoy it with me. Everyone is happy, laughing and going about their

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business in this world, in this neighboring community. It makes me sick to my stomach.

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And as if the chaos couldn't escalate further, a new neighbor moved in next door.

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The house had been vacant for over a year. And quite frankly, it was the only thing that helped my

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mood. Knowing that there wasn't another nosy neighbor trying to make things better for me.

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But like flies to garbage, the residents in the community flocked to their front steps and greeted

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them. They can be so pathetic, groveling to a total stranger or pretending to care. I've known them

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for years and I can certify that 80% don't give a fuck about a newbie. As for my new next door

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neighbor, I hadn't gotten around to see who she was. I'd caught glimpses of her in her bathroom

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over my balcony. But the view was not as clear with her sheer curtains. Besides, I didn't want

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to be a fucking creep. It would also be a disgrace to Alicia. However, everything changed within the

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blink of an eye. Like, literally. A week after moving in, the bold shit decided to play a good

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neighbor. I was pretty sure everyone told her about me so why the fuck was she standing at

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my door ringing my goddamn bell? And when I thought she had left because I never bothered to answer,

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I saw her on the camera again and this time she took a seat on my swing. On Alicia's fucking swing.

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But the rage that consumed me enough to throw this woman off my property

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instantly dissipated when I opened the door. I didn't know how to explain it or figure out

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what the hell it was. But all I knew was that she... she looked like Alicia. Well, not totally,

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but she had an uncanny resemblance. Like a doppelganger. The fuck? I couldn't even find the

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words I planned to tell her about sitting on the swing. It was as if there was a divine

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intervention or something. The woman looked up at me just as confused. And when I didn't think she

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would say anything, she introduced herself. Freya Somerset. Then she handed me bread. It had been

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packaged in a brown bag with doodle drawings with different colored markers. Life must have

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decided to fuck me over again because Alicia loved to bake and she'd been an artist.

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Was Freya her reincarnation? It could have never been.

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As she rambled on about her boyfriend and other nonsensical stuff, I just stared in awe.

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She'd looked so much like Alicia, down to her bow-shaped lips. Seeing Freya and having her

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remind me so much of Alicia were emotions I wasn't ready to face.

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Here I was standing in front of my wife's replica and having thoughts about how many

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times we used to kiss and the beautiful things she did with that wicked mouth of hers.

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How I used to kiss the small mole on her neck. The similar kind of mole Freya had on her lower

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chin. Whatever scheme the devil was concocting against me was working. Because this woman

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had sparked a fire within me. One that I had long lost after my wife's death.

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I grabbed the bread and closed the door. I didn't want to get caught up. I didn't want to experience

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the emotions she had just stirred in me. But after that day, I was never the same.

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A day after our encounter we had a really windy day. So windy that one of my balcony

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chairs had toppled over and my potted plant had broken. When I'd gone to sea to it, Freya's window

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had been open as usual. But the curtains had blown apart. It was much easier to see her in the bathroom.

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Freya had returned from work and entered the room in her bath towel. I still wanted to believe that

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all of this was unreal. And it was the fates fucking with me. But this was reality. I knew I

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should have turned away. That I should have tended to my plant and headed back inside. But I didn't.

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She reminded me so much of Alicia. And I didn't want to go another second without seeing my

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wife's face in living flesh. But to be fair, when she loosened her towel I turned away.

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I went back to tending to my plant and headed inside. I had never used my balcony before.

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But ever since I knew I could catch a secret glimpse of the woman who resembled my wife,

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I made it a customary thing. And day after day I would sit on the balcony until she got home

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from work and get into the bath. I would take a few glimpses of her and head back inside.

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Not once had I been pervy enough to view her naked. I'm not that kind of guy.

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Seeing Alicia, Freya, is only for comfort. And it's the only way I can do this without being

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socially awkward. Honestly, I believed I could get away with it. That I could sneak a glance at her

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and then disappear. However, it seems that all actions done in secrecy are eventually brought

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to light. Last Wednesday night, Freya caught me staring at her. I thought it was going to turn

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into a shit show. And she would call the police. And I'd go to jail for being the total pervert ever.

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But it was nothing like that. Freya had looked at me looking at her and stood there for a few

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seconds. She then dropped her towel and stepped into the bath. It was as if nothing had transpired

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between us. I knew then that I should have gone back inside. That what she did should have been a

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red flag for me to stay away. But I just couldn't. I couldn't pull myself away from watching her take

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a bath, soaking in the sudsy tub. It was as if she wanted me to see her. It continued like that for

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almost every night except the weekends when her boyfriend visited. I'd sunk into a new lie where

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I thought this was okay. Where I'd become addicted to seeing her. And then knowing that she knows

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that I'm watching her and she doesn't give a damn, had done something to me. How was this normal?

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To this day, I'm sick of my decision. My wife is probably looking down at me and appalled by my

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behavior. But I'll be damned if I don't catch a glimpse of her at least five times a week.

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Freya has become a drug, an opioid for my pain, an ecstasy to make me forget what I lost. Getting

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out on a balcony and watching Freya have a bath has become a new norm for us. She alerts me by

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flickering her lights on and off twice. This whole idea is disturbing. But it's just how it is now.

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Now it's Saturday. And while I'm folding clothes in my bedroom, the lights at her house flicker

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twice. I'm shocked. So stunned that I drift onto my balcony like a moth to a fucking flame.

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Seeing Freya is addictive. It's nearly something I can't resist. Nevertheless, the last thing I

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intend to do is disrupt someone else's relationship. Mine had been perfect, and I would have fought tooth

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and nail to make sure that Alicia didn't have a reason to leave. I move to the lounge chair on

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the balcony to see what the flickering is about. It's more of a safety check to make sure she is

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okay. And she is okay. I'm about to return to my room when Freya moves to the window and spreads

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the curtains the widest it has ever been. Whatever game she's playing, I'm all in. I'm no longer

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Mr. Nice Guy because ever since Wednesday, I'd lost the opportunity to see her. So I'll take

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whatever the fuck I get tonight. Despite her boyfriend staying the weekend at her place,

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Freya has found the time to see me. No, to let me see her. Tonight is going to be different.

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I can feel it. And now that I can see all of her, it's doing something to me.

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She plays with the tie of her robe and then loosens it. A breath escapes me when the

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robe slides to the floor. This is the first time I've truly seen her naked. Every other time was

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vague shapes and illusions through a sheer curtain. But now, now it's the real deal.

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She is stunning. So gorgeous that I can't tear my eyes from her. I sit on the balcony chair and

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scoot it to the edge of the railing. She is fondling herself and it's surreal. My cock is hard,

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so fucking hard and it's the hardest it has ever been in a long time. The moment she dropped the

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robe, I should have headed back inside. I should have moved away because this was not what I wanted.

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But there was this urge to stay, to watch, to feel. Freya spreads her legs and drags her fingers

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between her thighs. This is wrong. This is sick. I shouldn't be watching her. I shouldn't be tarnishing

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my wife's memories like this. But it's fucking painful not to look away. She reminds me so much

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of my wife, but yet she's different in her way. I slip my cock out from my boxers like the fucking

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pervert I am. It's the first time I'm doing this. It's the first time I'm letting my emotions rule me.

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And right now I don't care. I know she can see me. And it may not be perfect vision because my

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balcony is dark, but my mere presence is enough for her to enjoy rubbing herself. Freya lifts her

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fingers and spreads them. She's wet. Fucking wet. I'm pounding my dick so hard that it's probably

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going to bruise from lack of use. However, the feeling she's invoking inside me is nothing

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compared to the consequences. And when she dips her fingers inside her pussy again, it sends me

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into a tizzy. I stand, peeling my boxers off and freeing my cock. I want her to see. I want her

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to know what she's doing to me, how I'm breaking every rule and moral compass to please her.

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As I pound my dick, she's fingers deep into her wet cunt. I'm on the edge. And having her stare

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aimlessly through the window while getting off on me is not helping either. Freya turns around,

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seeming agitated. Then she scrambles for her robe as she peers at the door. Fuck. Her boyfriend.

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I can hear him banging on the door like some deranged idiot. She composes herself and finally

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opens it, but he bursts in like a maniac. Her boyfriend is livid, pointing his fingers in her

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face and looking around. Somehow I just want to get down there and punch that fucker in his face.

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He has no reason to be touching and yelling at her like that. His anger escalates to the

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point where he's smelling her fucking hands. Then suddenly he walks to the window and looks up,

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spotting me. Fuck. I pull up my pants, ready to head back inside because this no longer concerns me,

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but something tells me to stay. Then this man points at me. And before I can blink again,

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he slaps her about the face. What the fuck? Shit. He shoves her onto the wall. Damn it.

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If I don't get my ass over there right now, he's going to do much worse. As I make my way downstairs,

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all I can envision is her lifeless body being kicked in the stomach. I retrieve her keys from

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beneath a potted plant and unlock the front door. And without thinking about the legalities of what

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I'd just done, I head upstairs and look for the door facing my balcony. Blood. Fucking blood.

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I launch at the guy with my body slamming him to the floor. This has just gotten personal.

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I ram my fist in the fucker's face enough times that he's out cold like a motherfucker.

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Then I remember Freya. I turn to see her lifeless body on the floor. I can't wait. I can't even

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think about doing more harm than good by touching her. I take her up in my arms and run downstairs,

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straight onto the pavement. Then, without thinking, I yell at the top of my lungs.

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I shouldn't be here. I have no reason to be here.

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Sitting at her bedside at the hospital is the last thing I should be doing.

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I don't know this woman, and she doesn't know me. But yet I find myself lying to the

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doctors stating that I'm her relative. What is going on with me? A month ago, I hated people.

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Interacting with one person was a chore. Now I'm sitting at the bedside of my neighbor,

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without the will to leave her like this. She has no one. Well, that's what I believe.

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The only person listed as her emergency contact is the fucked hard who did this to her. Somehow,

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I'm compelled to stay. But it's like being with Alicia all over again. Not knowing when she would

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die or if she would ever recover. It feels like deja vu. It feels so fucking real. It's been two

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days and Freya hasn't woken fully. The doctor says she's stable, but she has a concussion.

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However, she's in and out of it because of the meds. I stand to go get a refill of my coffee in

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the hallway. When I hear a bit of rustling, I turn to see her eyes fluttering open. Nothing prepared

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me for the joy I felt seeing her open her eyes and moving her head. This woman has no idea how

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much she has grown on me. How much she has influenced the last 48 hours. I approach her bedside and as

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she slowly looks up, I'm uncertain of what thoughts might be crossing her mind. Her face is void of

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expression. I'll go get the doctor, I say. No. Wait. She whispers. How are you feeling? Are you okay?

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She nods, but deep down I know she's aching all over. That bastard did a number on her. Her ribs

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are bruised and her eyes are all bluish black. Why are you here? She croaks out. The question shoots

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me right through the heart, but she's right. Why the fuck am I here? I'm sorry, I'll go.

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No. She reaches for my hand. Stay. I'm glad you're here. You... you saved me.

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I did what anyone would have done. Better not to give her any false ideas. Freya turns her head

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facing the window. Where is he? My face crumples with anger. I still can't believe after everything

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that Prick did to her she's still asking about him. He's where he's supposed to be. In jail.

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Jail? She repeats. And now this is where it gets rough. I take a seat next to her. Freya,

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there's something I need to tell you. She wintzes as she tries to sit upright. No, wait. You need

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to see the doctor first. What? What is it? She wintzes again. What do you have to tell me?

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There's no easy way to put it, but I would prefer if she sees the doctor before I discuss

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anything with her. I stand. I'll call the doctor. Alex. By the time the doctor is finished checking

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with her, Freya is uneasy. Even while the doctor was carrying out his tests, she kept dying me.

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And now that the doctor is gone, there's an elephant in the room. Days ago, I'd been watching

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her play with herself. Days ago, I'd been getting off of her pleasure. Now we are staring at each

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other like the strangers we are. Why is Caleb in jail? Did you call the police?

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Why are you so concerned about that asshole who put you in the hospital?

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Because when he gets out of jail, he's going to come and finish me off for putting him in there.

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Annoyance fills me. Not on my fucking watch. She exhales a sharp breath. Then she shakes her head.

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You have no idea what he's capable of.

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Let me worry about that, I say, before taking a deep breath. There's also something you need to know.

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Freya squeezes her eyes shut for a few seconds and inhales.

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Just tell me already.

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Your house is gone, Freya. She eyes me with confusion.

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What?

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It's gone. Your boyfriend burned it to the ground.

