“Then, who are you? Why didn’t you say anything?”
“For the same reason you would have not told me your real name if the situation was reversed.” She’s got me there. I nod and she takes my hand in hers, an urgency in the movement. For me to believe her, maybe. I stand and grab my friend, tightenning my hold around her in a fierce hug.
“Whatever you need,” I say, framing her face with both hands. “I’ll be there for you.”
Tears line her beautiful brown eyes, collecting on her thick lashes. We hug once more.
“So, we both have fucked up families?”
“Something like that,” she says with a wry smile.
A phone chime interrupts us. It’s mine.
Unknown
I can explain
Heart beating wild, I block the number.
Whatever happened between me and my stalker needs to stop. I can never know if I’m truly safe with someone I don’t know.
After our study session, which turns into a wine drinking session, I pack a small bag with essentials for two days, and texts my family where I’m going and not to worry.
I tell Mina and myself that I need time away to escape this man who follows my every move. But my subconscious has a very different opinion.
FIFTEEN
TOMA
My blood boils as I watch the last text message I sent her show an error signal. Bright red across my white screen, mocking me.
She didn’t let me explain. I knew the moment I saw Mina pick the lock of the first flat in Lucie’s building on my camera that nothing good would come of it. My protective instincts when it comes to Lucie are unhinged and extreme. I know that; I’m not as stupid as my father used to think and as my brother loves to pretend.
It’s not her fault. But the rejection is like a volcano of rage flooding my senses with the need to punish her for the transgression. For thinking anything I’d do is against her needs. For not letting me talk to her, after what we shared.
Once more, I’m silenced.
I grip the edges of my chair, closing my eyes and breathing deep through my nose to calm the pain at the memory resurfacing. It’s no use.
Behind my closed eyelids, I see my mother begging my father for cash, holding my hand. His hand had closed against her elbow and he’d brought her into the foyer of his home. Without preamble, he’d wrapped his hands around her throat andsqueezed. Blood had pooled at his wrists where she had fought him. I stood there, frozen and scared.
It’s rare my mother’s murder haunts me. I’ve blocked it to protect myself, but today, as I watch Lucie cut me off, it’s like I can’t breathe. The supply of oxygen in my mother’s lungs is the one I breathe and it’s cut off.
A bark takes me out of the trance I’ve fallen into and air rushes through my airways.
Biscuit barks again and I turn away from the spectacle on the other side of the street. Lucie’s packing. As though that’d keep me away from her. There’s nowhere on Earth she can go where I won’t follow.
Biscuit runs on her tiny legs towards the leash attached to the door knob and I follow, attaching it to the pink collar around her neck. We descend the stairs and I turn right, away from Lucie’s building. All cameras are on and will alert me of any intrusion. And I’ll keep checking every now and then, as I always do when I take Biscuit on walks.
When I light up the cigarette between my lips, nicotine invades my bloodstream and I relax. Marginally. Nothing will ever calm me down like Lucie’s breaths and soft snores do. But right now, she’s the reason for those pesky feelings.
I don’t know what to make of them.
I inhale the tobacco, and let the smoke out softly, immediately lighting another cigarette when the first one ends. I think I smoke five like that, one after the other, trying to make sense of the storm inside my head.
I’ve always known I wasn’t good enough for Lucie Ventura. But after weeks of being in her space, around her, smelling her on me every night after I leave her flat, I thought I could take her for myself. I’m ready to. And that’s when she shuts me out.
When I get back home, I resume my vigil, but her lights are off. The dot indicating her location on my phone is moving.
