Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 136048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Approaching the front porch, I start digging through my bag for my keys when something on the doorstep has my hand pausing in my overfilled bag.
“What the fuck?” I breathe, letting my hand fall down to my side as a wave of nausea assaults me. This can’t be happening.
Stepping right up to the front porch, I stare down at the single black rose left abandoned on the front step, and I suck in a horrified breath. My hands begin to shake, and as the seconds begin to pass, my blood turns to ice within my veins.
He found me.
Everything stops.
Tears well in my eyes, and I hastily shake my head as though this is nothing more than my mind playing a game on me, but how could it be? I take my meds religiously. My mind is safe from this bullshit, but how? I thought I was safe here. I thought I was going to be alright, but I was a fool for ever assuming that he couldn’t find me here.
The tears begin to fall, streaking down my face, and as they drop from my jaw and land with a splash against my collarbone, something wakes me up. What the fuck am I doing just standing here? Is he watching me? Waiting to see what I’ll do?
Fuck.
I hastily dive back into my bag, fishing out my keys with trembling hands before trying to unlock the door as quickly as possible. My trembling makes it harder than it needs to be, but the moment the key finally twists in the lock, I take the handle and all but throw the door open.
Grabbing the black rose off the front step, I hurry over the threshold, frantically slamming the door behind me and practically jumping on it as I hastily lock it from within.
My body trembles, and the moment I can, I throw the rose down on the hallway table, not wanting to touch it a moment longer than necessary. My fingertip catches on one of the sharp thorns, slicing into my skin, and I suck in a breath as the stinging pain quickly begins to throb.
Blood pools on my fingertip, and I hold it tight, trying to stop the bleeding as my gaze remains focused on the rose.
How the fuck did he find me?
The message I received from him only a few days ago suggested he had no idea where the hell I’d been hiding out, and I can only assume that means he’d been staking out my old apartment. The only way he would have found me here is if he’d followed me home from the hospital after knocking me out in my car.
Fuck.
I did this.
After Vincent knocked on my window, I had assumed my stalker was gone. I wasn’t cautious enough. I didn’t search every dark corner to make sure I wasn’t being followed. I drove straight home, drawing him the perfect map for how to find me.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
How could I have been so stupid? So reckless?
I fall to my knees right there in the entryway, the helplessness weighing me down as my face falls into my hands and tears stream down my cheeks. Every time I think I’m starting to get better, starting to believe I could make it through this, my stalker strikes again.
This is never going to end. He’s never going to leave me alone. Never going to back off, and because of my own insecurities, I’ve allowed it to happen. My silence has allowed him to get away with this bullshit.
I can’t do it anymore. I need to come clean. I need to be honest with Knight, even if his pitying stare crushes me, even if he doesn’t believe me. He needs to know because, unlike my last stalker, this man is actually real. He poses a real threat to my life, and while I’m more than capable of physically plunging a scalpel into his throat, the truth is, I don’t know if I have the strength to follow through. I don’t know if I’m capable of taking a life.
I might be a little spitfire with adrenaline on my side, but I’m barely five-foot-two. I’m petite and weigh next to nothing. This man has got to be six-foot-four and packed with muscle. I don’t stand a chance, even with a scalpel in my hand.
The tears continue flowing down my face, and as my phone rings from somewhere deep inside my bag, I hastily wipe the wetness from my face and pull myself together. After digging through my bag, I find Knight’s name flashing across my screen, and I do what I can to force a smile across my face.
“Hey,” I say, awkwardly getting to my feet.
“Hey, you okay?” he asks, a strange edge to his tone. “How was therapy?”
And with that, I suck in a breath and scoop the rose off the entryway table before taking it deeper into the house. “Really good,” I tell him, doing everything in my power to mask the shakiness in my voice. “She thinks I’m making progress.”