Chapter 8: Giving The Devil A Shower

Naomi West

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I drive away in my car as fast as possible after abandoning Denzel. I didn’t think it’d work, considering how clingy he’s been ever since getting discharged from the hospital.

But thank God it did.

And I can resume living my life like a free bird. Feeling joyful, I play London Boy by Taylor Swift and sing along with her.

“You know I love a London boy. I enjoy nights in Brixton, Shoreditch, in the afternoon. He likes my American smile like a child when our eyes meet, darling, I fancy you–”

My phone beams from an incoming call. It’s an unknown number. The memories of snakes on my floor and threatening emails on my computer come crashing down on me.

I pull over. I’m staring at the screen long and hard and just when I’m going to receive it, the call ends. I end up blankly staring at the lightened screen.

Calm down, Naomi. It’s just a number. It can be spam, or loan givers. For all I know, it can be a prank call.

I give myself all the excuses to make this situat