Fear of Falling

out the waitresses after I had wiped down every surface behind the bar. I could feel Blaine trying to catch my gaze, but I refused to look at him. I had to admit, he was good. He’d almost made me believe that he was something other than what I had always feared. But a tiger can’t change his stripes, no matter how hard he tries to mask them.
    True to her word, Wendy stuck around, tossing back drinks and dancing to the music coming from the jukebox. Blaine only spoke to her when she needed a refill, but I chalked it up to him being embarrassed about getting caught. I would have preferred he be upfront about being an asshole. I would have respected him more and it would give the ache in my chest meaning. My suffering wouldn’t be in vain.
    After the bar was mostly empty and the waitresses had cashed out their tips, I popped into the back to retrieve my belongings. Mick was gone, delaying my plan to apologize for my behavior and assure him that I would never be caught flirting with Blaine again. Ever. When I returned to the front of the house, the lights were dimmed, and everyone had left for the night. Even Wendy and her twin flotation devices.
    “If there’s nothing else…” I said quietly, fixing my eyes to the exit sign. It was so close. Soon I’d be free to scream, punch pillows and eat insane amounts of ice cream. Too bad Angel and the girls had a gig out in Raleigh. I really needed one of her man-bashing sessions, and no one did that better than Angel.
    “Kami, wait,” Blaine said, leaning against the bar.
    “Look, Blaine,” I said, spinning towards him. He was keeping me from Ben & Jerry, the only other guys I loved even more than Dom, and it was annoying the hell out of me. “Whatever you were hoping for, forget it. I’m not the girl you’re looking for. I’m not going to waltz in here with my tits propped up to my chin to get your attention. I’m not going to hang onto your every word like a fucking puppy. And I’m not interested in seeing your truck, hanging out after work, or being alone with you. I’m not the girl, ok? So whatever bullshit you were just about to feed me, save it. You’re off the hook. Goodnight and goodbye, Blaine.”
    I turned towards the refuge of the exit, trying to keep my eyes trained on those glowing red letters to avoid looking back at Blaine’s confused expression. When I hit the night air, still muggy and warm despite the late hour, I sucked in a deep breath, gulping down oxygen to combat the sob rising in my throat. Not here, not in public. I wouldn’t let myself crumble.
    In my devastated state, I hadn’t even noticed my surroundings. Had I been paying attention, my senses not diluted with thoughts of Blaine, I would have been fisting my keys. I would have kept my head down and walked swiftly to my car. And I would have noticed a darkly dressed figure approaching me just as I was feet away from my vehicle.
    “Hey, girl, come here. Whatchu doing out here all by yourself?”
    I didn’t answer. I just kept rummaging through my purse, praying that my trembling hands would find my car keys before fear completely washed over me. I could feel it—the building anxiety causing my extremities to lock up. I wanted to run, wanted to scream, but once the fear had seeped into my bones and attacked my senses, it was impossible. I couldn’t hear the man taunting me anymore. Couldn’t even hear the sounds of gravel crunching under his boots as he stalked closer to me. Finding those keys was the only thing my mind could focus on.
    The moment I felt the stranger’s hand grip my forearm, I yelped, causing the sob in my chest to break free. He reeked of hard liquor, dirt and body odor, and my stomach roiled in response. I froze. I should have fought, should have yelled for help, but I couldn’t. I had shut down, letting my thoughts wander into the darkest places in my mind. The places I never visited, for fear that I would never be able to return...
    I was just a little girl, completely helpless, useless, and defenseless. I knew fighting would only make Daddy mad. And when he got mad, he hurt me more. Every time Daddy hurt me, Mommy would try to stop him, earning the full brunt of his anger. It was better to just stay still and let him have his fun. It made him happy. Making Daddy happy was what Mommy and I always tried to do. Even if that meant slowly killing ourselves in the process.
    Something began to tug at me, pulling me away from the bleak fog of remembrance. I