Audrey

"This is the kitchen," I say, the sight of a stack of dirty dishes in the sink spoiling what would have otherwise been a pristine, spacious kitchen. "Refrigerator's over there – we can share it, just label your shit. Microwave over there; washing machine under there. I do my laundry on Saturdays. You could..." My voice trails off when I remember the sports bag carrying all his clothing in the world. "We should go shopping."

I glance at him, taking in his rigid stance. "Are you okay?"

"I have no money," he says for what's probably the hundredth time.

I huff out a breath, waving a dismissive hand. "I know. It's okay. You'll get a job."

"I have no money," he repeats. His voice is mild when he asks, "What do you want from me? Do you expect sexual favors in return?"

I back away from him, totally horrified. "What?"

His clear green eyes cut into me like broken glass. "Why are you helping me?"

"I told you. I need your help."

The vivid image of Julian standing over my bed flashes before my eyes and for a second, my heart stops. It feels like it's actually stopped. A python seems to be constricting itself around my chest, making it impossible to breathe...

I clear my throat, shaking my head. Sexual favors? Just the idea of another man touching me after Julian... It makes me break out into a cold sweat, makes my whole body seize up. I don't even want to think about that.

"I've been where you are," I hear myself say. "Living on the streets. So hungry you don't even have the energy to fucking blink. I've been there."

He eyes me, saying nothing. Like me, he's probably remembering the way he devoured that cheeseburger earlier.

"Let me show you to your room." The words come out of my mouth harsher than I intend them to be but the man doesn't acknowledge my tone.

Moving past him, I head down the hallway with the knowledge that he's following me. A shiver crawls up my back. I can feel his eyes on me, but it's not creepy. I should be scared – out of the frying pan and into the fire, right? – but something tells me that he is the lesser evil.

A necessary evil.

Yes, a guy who was part of a psycho cult that groomed him into a killing machine for no apparent reason will make a far better roommate than my ex ever did. Maybe it's stupid – okay, it is – to trust this guy when the whole world has already written him off as deranged, but I've always made bad choices. What's one more?

"This is your room," I say, hating how my voice seems a little off to my own ears. Nevertheless, I push open the white door, letting us into the second bedroom. "If you're not happy with anything, just let me know."

Though, he should be fine with it. From what I heard in the news, the only place he's ever called home was a cold, hard floor in a tiny barred cell. This large room with a king-sized bed and white carpeting is a giant step up. The windows are open, letting in the fresh summer air, and the thick navy-blue curtains are pulled aside, letting in the early morning light.

Marlene, my landlady, told me that she'd decorated herself, and the steep rent she's charging me for a fully-furnished apartment in a fairly decent neighborhood is pretty damn worth it.

I look at the man, trying to gauge his reaction, but it's like trying to read emotions on a brick wall. Finally, he goes to drop his bag on the bed, his back to me.

"Thank you." He turns to look at me. "Jamie."

It's on the tip of my tongue to confess that Jamie is not my real name, but fortunately, self-preservation wins. I simply nod and leave him alone. Once I'm outside his room, I lean against his closed door, squeezing my eyes shut. I feel unsteady on my legs, like a newborn calf, and I don't want to think that it's about what happened tonight. It feels like a delayed reaction.

How is it that the touch of a man fills me with so much dread when the one man I should fear isn't anywhere near me? I should've been able to handle myself against one drunken asshole. I shouldn't have panicked the way I did. I shouldn't have needed a random guy to swoop in and fucking rescue me.

I scrub a hand down my face, taking my tears away with it. "Get it together, Audrey. Get it together."

Jamie, the voice in my head says, firm and pissed off. Your name is Jamie now.

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