A couple of short bus rides later and Libby was standing in front of the apartment complex that she had called home for eight months. She took and deep breath and opened the door. The guy on the security desk recognised her and stood up with a smile.
“Miss Richardson, how good to see you again.”
“You too,” she smiled nervously. “I can’t hang around. Is anyone up there?”
“No, Mr Ferguson hasn’t been by for a while.”
“Thanks,” she headed up the stairs and to her apartment door.
She got her keys out and noticed how her hand shook as she tried to unlock the door. Dumb, it wasn’t like he was there. It was just a place. Nothing more. All she had to do was get her stuff together and leave. Simple. She opened the door and stepped inside. It was so quiet. She hated the silence so she crossed to the stereo and turned it on. A CD started playing automatically. She smiled when she realised it was a Backstreet Boys’ one. The sound of their voices would give her the courage to get through this. She crossed to the bedroom and began hunting out her most prized possessions. It would be hard trying to condense her life into one case but she’d manage. There was no way she intended making a return trip to this place.
“Darling,” he said and leant against the doorway. “I wondered when you’d come crawling back.”
“Paul,” Libby stood up slowly and stared at the man in front of her. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m here for you.”
“How did…”
“I know everything,” he said calmly. “The security guy called me. Who said money can’t buy everything?”
“It can’t buy me,” she backed away from him and felt the cold wall against her back.
“Really?” he asked with a touch of humour. “Could’ve fooled me Libby. I mean…” he walked towards her slowly. “I never heard you complain about this place, or those fancy restaurants I took you to… Or even about those presents I bought you.”
“I loved you, not the money.”
“Aw, how old-fashioned of you,” he said as he reached her. He reached out to touch her hair and she flinched. “And what’s with the past tense Libby? You still love me. You always will.”
“I don’t love you Paul,” she looked right into his eyes, gaining strength from the sound of her cousin’s voice on the stereo. “I’m over you.”
“Well, well, don’t tell me you finally grew a backbone,” he chuckled into her face.
“No, I just realised a few things.”
“Enlighten me.”
“I’m not a nobody Paul. I’m a Richardson. And you had no right to hit me. And I’m going to get my things and leave this place. Then I’m going to go to the police and tell them exactly what you’ve done to me, Paul.”
“You’re not doing that Libby,” he whispered in her ear just before he gripped her hair and snapped her head back hard against the white wall.