Read The Token (#10): Shepard for Free Online Page A

away.
    A look takes root in her eyes, a look that I put there with the truth.
    That is also good. She does not need to ever see me again, unless la famille return.
    I point at her phone. “Phone me if you see them again.”
    Marissa puts her cell against her breast, and my breath stalls. Her gesture is vulnerability wrapped in steel, and the small act moves the mountain of my numbness.
    “I don't think so. You've told me you're a wolf in sheep's clothing, Shepard. You're no shepherd. You don't protect anyone.”
    That is mostly true. I could not even protect myself when I most needed to. “I protected you.”
    We stare at each other, me leaning over the center console and Marissa's grip bleeding to white from the strain of holding the car door.
    She breaks the eye contact, quietly shutting the door with a dull click, and I watch her walk into her apartment.
    I stay in the stall for ten minutes after she is gone.
    After starting up the car, I coolly drive away. But the emotion is not complete.
    Marissa has begun to thaw me.
    And la famille has found us both.

SIX
    Marissa
     
    I slide the worn drape away from my window.
    Shepard's car remains in the stall we parked in. His face is hidden by shadows, but I know he's staring up at the very window I'm looking out of.
    I tremble. I should be afraid of him. God knows, I watched Shepard kill one man with a silenced pistol and beat the snot out of another.
    But somehow, I don't feel as though he wants to hurt me.
    He seems really crazy, though. All this talk of the family this and the family that. And if everything he's said is true, then where does that leave him ?
    If what Shepard says is real, he is worse than the man he murdered. Shepard helped take young girls—fuck them, by his own admission. Sculpted them into these little robots that screw, kill, and transport drugs, all while behaving in a way that blends in. Speaking the language of the people to be duped—or soothed.
    And how does he know I'm a virgin? I never play victim or helpless, innocent girl.
    How would anyone know it? I've guarded my secrets—and myself— very well. When my parents were killed, I was at a stupid age—thirteen. Just about the time a girl has her first menstrual cycle and technically becomes a woman.
    I gaze out the smudged glass again, and his car is gone. It was an expensive model. Audi. But it's not flashy, just elegant and expensive. Like Shepard.
    I don't have a car. Can't afford one. That's why I take the train.
    Took. I'm not sure if taking the train to and from work is the best choice anymore. Maybe I shouldn't even be in this apartment anymore. My apartment no longer seems like an anonymous oasis.
    After releasing the drape, I go to my backpack and take out everything but my ID and phone. I remove my water bottle, then immediately refill it at the tap and stuff ice inside.
    I know what to do next, but it's two in the morning, and my eyes are grainy with fatigue and lack of sleep. My adrenaline stores are spent.
    All of what's happened occurred in less than five hours.
    I open the fridge and break off a piece of apple muffin and stuff it into my mouth. I'm suddenly ravenous.
    Filthy.
    I look down at my clothes. My yoga pants are full of dirt from lying on cement.
    After I set the second piece of muffin down, I move down my narrow apartment hallway toward the bathroom.
    As I pass my door, I secure the chain. If they could find me on the train, they can find me here. Once in the bathroom, I stare back at my reflection. A red mark stands at the side of my neck as proof of Shepard's abuse.
    I can't trust him. He's obviously capable of extreme violence. So why did I hesitate when he offered to keep me safe?
    Because I'm stupid, that's why.
    I turn away from my image in the mirror. My face damns me. It centers me.
    I walk to the shower, turn on the hot water spigot, and put my hand under the rushing water. I pop the metal stem on top of the tub spout, and the showerhead turns on. Water