Sunrise Over the Hill That Night

A drunk man hunted me through dark, empty streets last night while I dialed Chazz Antoon five times.

The first call, I screamed for help. The second, only trembling sobs escaped. The third, the fourth... they rang out unanswered. By the fifth, a notification lit up my screen—a new post from his social media.

It was Daphne Lloyd, serene in sleep. The caption read: My ninety-ninth successful bedtime.

While I ran for my life, my husband was across town tucking his patient into bed.