I spent the rest of the afternoon shaking.
That evening, my phone rang.
An unfamiliar number.
I almost ignored it.
Then a text appeared.
Hannah, this is Camille Roberts. We heard about the photograph through your attorney’s request for restaurant records. Are you safe?
I stared.
I hadn’t spoken to Camille since the night I escaped.
I called her.
She answered immediately.
“Sweetheart?”
I started crying.
She listened while I explained.
Then she said, “I’m glad you reported it.”
I wiped my cheeks.
“I’m scared.”
“I understand.”
I hesitated.
“Does Damien know?”
“Yes.”
My stomach tightened.
“What did he say?”
Camille paused.
“He asked whether you needed any practical assistance. I told him you had legal representation and were following a safety plan.”
I nodded.
Then she added, “He also said he wouldn’t involve himself unless you requested it.”
For reasons I couldn’t explain, those words made my chest ache.
