His Last Bullet My Fresh Start
Language: en
At two in the morning, I was sitting in the back of a squad car, finishing my statement. The female officer handed me a tissue. "It’s late. Do you want to call your husband to come get you?" I pressed the tissue against the drying blood on my neck. "He won’t pick up. He’s a heavy sleeper." Just seconds ago, a notification had popped up on my phone. It was an Instagram Story from my husband. The photo was a shot of a dimly lit porch light at Alyssa’s apartment complex. The caption read: Late-night escort duty, number sixty-one. Goodnight. Meanwhile, I had just narrowly escaped a mugging in…