Free How to Run with a Naked Werewolf by Molly Harper Page A

I used computers at the public library to find a new job at a hospital in Tampa and used what was left of my inheritance to set up an apartment there. I filed divorce papers and moved out before Glenn could make it home from a late-night department meeting. I used my own name to start my new life but thought I was being smart by listing a post-office box on bills and accounts. I hoped Glenn would just move on, get bored, find someone else.
    As usual, I’d underestimated him. He hacked into my e-mail accounts, no matter how many times I changed the address or password. I had to change my credit-card information and post-office box three times after he managed to buy some nice Jet Skis, a flat-screen TV, and a bass boat on my dime. When I complained to police in our hometown, he told them it wassimply a predivorce credit spat and that we were working through it in family court. With me in another state, they were all too happy to let me fend for myself.
    And still, I didn’t realize how bad things could get. I’d made the mistake of staying in contact with old friends. They’d been so convinced by my “perfectly happy wife” act that most of them were shocked by the sudden shift. One well-meaning (read: ill-informed and utterly without boundaries) college friend gave Glenn my address, thinking I’d given up on the marriage too quickly and should give him another chance. Having followed me through the lobby of my building and through my front door, he walked right into my new apartment and broke my jaw.
    I didn’t know that it was possible to hurt that badly. I could barely crawl to a sitting position as Glenn ranted and raved over me.
    After Glenn let me know how much I had hurt him , he told me to wait in the bedroom while he went to fix himself a drink. He was so convinced that I would do it, he just walked out of the room, leaving me right next to a phone, and never even considered that I would use it to call for help. That chapped my butt much later, when I was in my analyze every moment so I can better blame myself phase. He was so sure of his “shock and awe” campaign. He was so sure I would just cower on the carpet. It never occurred to him to take the phone with him.
    It wasn’t the first “accident” I’d had around Glenn, but it was the first that I couldn’t treat myself afterward. I called 911, and Glenn—to my shock—stuck around.The paramedics—to Glenn’s shock—didn’t accept his assertion that a fully dressed woman with dry hair fell getting out of the shower, so he was arrested on assault charges. I was a patient in my own hospital for two days, treated to pitying looks from my coworkers as I recovered from a broken jaw, several broken fingers, and internal injuries.
    I knew what would happen when he was released. I’d had him arrested. To Glenn, that was unforgivable. When I went to file a restraining order, I found that he had called some online-gaming friend and given him some sob story to convince him to post bail. Glenn skipped town, without regard for his friend’s bail collateral. And when I tried to file the restraining order, I found out that Glenn had been fired from the hospital months before and moved out of our apartment. Other than his birthdate, I had no information with which to file the order, which would make it difficult to serve and enforce. If I wanted to keep this new life I’d started and continue the divorce proceedings, I would have to stay put. Although I couldn’t find a trace of where Glenn might have disappeared to, he would know exactly where I was. And he could come back anytime he wanted. And even if I moved somewhere new and started over, if I wanted to practice medicine, it would be impossible to hide. Hospitals and private practices expected their doctors to post profiles on their Web sites, appear in ads, and have some public presence. Trying to make myself invisible would mean the end of my medical career. Walking away from the divorce proceedings