Someone had broken into her room, the unimpressive space in complete and total disarray. Panties, bras, pants, shirts… Everywhere she looked, Cera found pieces of her meager wardrobe strewn about.
From what she could tell, minus what she was currently wearing, every stitch of clothing she owned had been yanked from the dresser drawers and pulled from the hangers in a manner that screamed anger and hatred.
I am so freaking done!
Already balancing on the precipice of her breaking point, an enraged Cera took a wide step over the threshold to fully enter the room. She didn’t need to take caution or worry about whether the intruder was still present. From here, she could see it all.
Bedroom. Opened closet. Bathroom.
Three tiny areas, each fully within her view. It was clear that whoever had done this was gone. For now. But the asshole had left one hell of a mess in his wake.
Cera gave the space another slow, sweeping glance. This time, rather than look at the destruction personally, she mentally took a step back and forced herself to focus. To study the scene with an assessing gaze, as opposed to letting her emotions take the helm.
Still standing near the room’s entrance, she drew in a cleansing breath. Releasing it slowly, Cera pulled back her shoulders, cleared her jumbled mind, and started again.
To her left she noted the motel’s small round table had been swiped clean of the few magazines she’d splurged on to help pass the time. The table itself was fine, but the padded wooden chair she often used when reading, eating, or contemplating her future had been overturned onto its back near the bed.
From there, Cera’s gaze shifted to the worn and chipped nightstand. The shotty piece’s two small drawers had been pulled free, their contents dumped and left in a pile as if it was nothing more than trash. Next to the pile of papers and other various items Cera liked to keep handy was the bedside lamp. Or rather, what was left of it.
The shiny white base was in ruins, the busted bulb and bent shade a fitting match. Next to the rubble was a small picture frame, its cracked glass distorting the only picture she had left of the family she’d lost so long ago.
Cera’s feet were moving before she even realized it. Ignoring the broken lamp’s ceramic shards crunching beneath the soles of her shoes, she reached down and picked up the busted frame. With slow, cautious movements, she ran the pad of her thumb over one of the larger, in-tact pieces of glass.
The printed image staring back at her caused a familiar pain in her heart. An emptiness she knew would never fully leave.
If you were still here, you’d know what to do. Please, Mom. I need you to tell me what I should do.
Her mother’s and sister’s smiling faces blurred behind a well of unshed tears. It would be so easy to just give up. To give into the fear and terror and simply lay down in wait.
As much as they wanted to help, trusting the police to keep her safe wasn’t an option. And all the extra precautions, all the running and hiding… Where had it gotten her?
Here. It had gotten her here. In this shitty motel with no friends, no money, and no future she could see. Not one worth living, anyway.
Cera Michelle Davidson, you knock that off right this instant! Throwing a pity party for yourself isn’t gonna help, and neither will those doom and gloom thoughts.
Cera gasped as her mother’s voice rang clearly through her head. It wasn’t actually her mom, of course. But more like the words she knew her mother would say if she were standing in this room with her right now.
Of course, if her mother were still alive, she never would’ve come here in the first place.
Time to put on those big girl panties of yours and step up to the plate. You’ve got this, baby girl. You’ve got this!
The second round of imaginary motherly orders struck with the exact clarity Cera needed. She straightened her shoulders and composed herself as best she could.
Her subconscious—which oddly had started to sound exactly like her mother—was right. She needed to get rid of the useless emotions clogging her thoughts, and focus.
Finish assessing the damage and plan. In that order.
Giving her nose a hard sniff, Cera blinked away the remaining tears as she set the picture frame down onto the nightstand. She turned, giving the rest of the cramped space another once-over.
From where she stood, she could see straight into the minuscule bathroom. Toiletries, her hairbrush, and other necessities littered the sink’s basin, floor, and bathtub. A labyrinth of dark trenches radiated from the jagged, almost bullseye-shaped crater in the center of the wall-mounted mirror.
She walked around the foot of the bed to the bathroom, doing her best to avoid stepping on the discarded clothing surrounding her. Reaching up, Cera flipped on the light, her breath catching in her throat as she stopped in front of the sink and stared.
Jagged fragments of glass reflected her shocked expression, multiplying it into a thousand distorted images. And if that wasn’t a metaphor for her life up to this point, she didn’t know what was.
A feeling of vulnerability washed over her, the intruder’s malicious act serving as a stark reminder of the fragile line between safety and danger. With a deep breath, Cera steered herself out of the room, determination to find a way to end this nightmare stronger than ever.
The only way to do that was to I.D. the bastard who—for reasons she may never understand—had become fixated on her. And the only way that was going to happen was if she remained steadfast, kept her eyes wide open, and her head on straight.