His Last Bullet My Fresh Start

Summary

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.