Casey's Point of View

We lived in an apartment complex in a "square" of streets, with a singular street acting as entrance and exit to the square. I was thankful for this because it limited my exposure to the same set of houses, and I wasn't too attention-grabbing; just a... pudgy young woman going for a jog in her PJs. With no sports bra and a stain running down her leg. In my loop around the square, there was a business with one of those big digital clocks under the logo. I used it to time my jog to 30 minutes.

My skin was flush red and I was panting five minutes in. I ran through everything in my head: a man that Ash had let in called my name. I was between sleep and wakefulness, but every core of my being had to rush out of that bed to get to him. I began to cry as I recalled him telling me I was too fat and for me to pee myself. I tried my best to stop my body, but it just came out. Now I was running for another 20 minutes, without break, because he said to jog for 30 minutes. I couldn't risk a break. Why not? What would happen? It was impossible. Even at complete exhaustion, I "jogged" lazily.

9:24. I was soaked in my own sweat. I was tired of holding my c-cup boobs up, lacking support from a bra, so I had to jog with the slightly painful thrust of them jutting upwards and falling downwards.

9:26. I'll go to the police when I'm done jogging.

9:28. My story is that there's a stranger in my house and I ran here to tell the police.

9:31. I am so sweaty they'll never notice the stream of pee down my leg. My panties are completely soaked now and I'm positive I reek, especially down there.

9:40. I am opening the door to my apartment, out of breath, completely terrified, and stepping inside to the most traumatic scene I had ever, and will ever, experience. I quietly shut the door behind me.