Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
He squeezed me to his chest then sighed, as if he was about to fall asleep. “Night, Cherry.”
I had just closed my eyes, but now I opened them again at the nickname. “Cherry?”
“I’m sure you understand the significance.”
“Yes, but it’s not very cute.”
“How so?”
“You’ve popped hundreds of other women’s cherries. That doesn’t make me special.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. All I ever do is make compromises with you. All I do is try to make you stay. You’re the only woman I can’t stop wanting. You’re the most expensive cherry I’ve ever bought. I don’t know what it means…but it means something.”
I did the walk of shame back to my apartment early in the morning. His car dropped me off at the curb, and I made my way inside. The mornings were always the worst because it was so cool outside. Fall had just begun, but there a chill in the air right when the sun came out.
I walked to my apartment but stopped when I noticed the door was cracked.
I would never leave the door open like that.
I listened for a moment, wondering if the super was inside my apartment or maybe someone who wasn’t supposed to be there. I tapped my knuckles on the door and spoke into the empty living room. “You done yet?”
No answer.
I pushed the door opened and peered inside.
The living room was empty.
Everything had been taken. My TV was gone, the entertainment stand it stood on was missing, and my couch left a line of dust on the floor where it’d been. They took my entryway table. The only thing on the floor was a photograph of my mother and me.
At least they left that behind.
I went into the kitchen and saw all my appliances had disappeared. Even the fridge was missing. “How the hell did they steal a fridge?” I opened the cabinets and saw all my glasses had vanished. My silverware was gone.
They basically took every single possession I had.
“Oh no…not my clothes.” I ran into my bedroom and wasn’t surprised to see my bed and nightstands had been taken, along with my small dresser. But when I opened my closet door, I was truly heartbroken.
They took everything.
All my bargain outfits I had hunted for at the discount stores. I waited until designer stuff was basically donated two years after it went out of style and waited until it came back into style just so I could wear it again. My clothes were essential for work, my identity. Maybe to someone else, they were just a pile of cotton and elastic. But to me…it was all I had. Now I only owned the clothes on my back.
I didn’t even have a pair of underwear.
I had two thousand dollars in my account, so I should be able to buy a couple of things, but I couldn’t spend it all because I still had bills and I needed to eat.
How could those assholes steal from someone who was already poor?
Fucking terrible.
I worked all day and didn’t tell anyone about the fact that I’d been robbed.
I didn’t want their pity right now.
All I had left was my mother’s picture, so I guess that gave those criminals some kind of conscience. I shouldn’t be grateful they left it behind, but I was. It was the only thing I had left of my mother.
On my lunch break, I filed a report with the police, and they went to check on the apartment. Of course, they would find no leads, just an empty apartment. And when they asked if I had renters insurance, I had to tell the embarrassing truth—no. It wasn’t because I wasn’t responsible. It was simply because I couldn’t afford it. It was the same reason I didn’t have health insurance or a car with car insurance. I just couldn’t swing it.
So now I was left with nothing.
New York was full of crime, and if these guys were brazen enough to steal a fridge in the middle of the night, they were brazen enough to do anything. Someone in my apartment complex must have been watching me because the thieves obviously knew I wouldn’t be there all night. The probably watched my behaviors and figured out when I wouldn’t be coming home until morning.
Made me sick to my stomach.
Maybe Slate was right. I couldn’t continue to live there anymore. I didn’t want to spend my extra income toward higher rent. That would just put me in the same boat as before. But if I wanted to get out of the bad neighborhoods, I would have to fork over a lot of cash.
Fuck, I didn’t know what to do.
I didn’t want to go to my apartment because there was nothing waiting for me there. I didn’t even have a single piece of furniture to sit on. Going straight to Slate’s place seemed most appealing, but since we weren’t in a real relationship, I felt like that would be uncalled for.