Watching Rory

Spam Messages

I've been contemplating the events from the past few weeks, and I'm unsure what's worse.

The protection order against Eric getting dismissed or there being an anonymous man that sneaks into my house.

Hundreds of questions are cycling through my mind.

Who is the masked man?

What does he want with me?

Why did I react the way I did to his touch?

I know from a physical aspect my body can become aroused no matter who touches it, but I'm more concerned about the mental.

Terrified hardly describes how it felt to be in the presence of that stranger, but for some reason, there was a slight dismay when he removed his fingers from my sex.

Will Eric go through with his promise to kill me?

It's been a week since I spoke with Cynthia, and nothing suspicious has happened since my encounter with the masked man.

The silence is eerie.

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Spam messages are the STDs of the internet.

With a broken phone, I have had no communication with the outside world. I've been using my desktop to stay up to date on current topics, but I am interrupted every few minutes by a new spam message.

Out of boredom, I started to delete them last night but stopped when one intrigued me.

Pictured was a beautiful seven-story apartment high-rise with floor-to-ceiling windows that reflect the sunset's orange and purple hues.

There's a thorough description of rent, the cost to move in, and a top-of-the-line security system with lengthy biographies of the retired military officers who guard the outside of the building.

The other night I was more than ready to flee the state, but now I'm wondering what's the point.

No matter how far I've gone in the past, Eric has always found me.

On a whim, I emailed the listing agent, and within minutes she responded.

We corresponded back and forth, and now in a few hours, I have a viewing for a unit on the thirteenth floor. 

I've showered to make myself more presentable and am leaving early to go to the mall to purchase a new phone.

************************************************

Holy shit!

Opulence Tower is the most magnificent apartment building I've ever seen. The pictures attached in the emails do it no justice. 

Am I really going to live here?

Jackie Holden, my realtor, has been selling homes for twenty years and reminds me of my grandma.

She's the sweetest woman.

In the elevator, she answers all of my finance questions, but when the door opens, the comforting feeling is gone.

A sense of dread and anxiety has overtaken me for no apparent reason. Sweat is drenching the underarms of my blouse, and my hands are shaking.

"Come on, Rory, you can do this," I say quietly enough so Jackie can't hear me.

I can't let this perfect opportunity slip between my grasp.

When we step into the apartment's entryway, I'm in awe.

It's everything I've ever dreamt of for myself. 

Jackie walks me through an island kitchen, two guest bedrooms, and a master bedroom with an en suite bathroom.

She's about to take me into the walk-in closet but halts after a few footsteps when I yell, "I'll take it."

"When can I sign the papers?"

🖤 Do you ever read your spam messages?