Bear leaps into action, making it through them in a flash of movement before I even look over my shoulder.
"You'll catch your death out here," my stalker says.
I shrug. "Better than catching it in there."
Turning back around, I watch the sun bleed through the trees as it rises in the sky.
"Remember what the rules say?" His voice is close; he's hovering over my left shoulder, his breath fanning my ear.
"They say I can't put myself in danger. Being outside in September isn't dangerous."
"You're delicate, at least wear a jacket."
I scoff. "I'm done, anyhow."
"You didn't finish your coffee."
"Yeah, well, I can't stomach it with everything going on." I dislike how curt it came out, as I want to maintain good decorum with him. I want to get the fuck out of here.
But he'll grow suspicious if I'm too nice, so mixing it up a bit will be fine, I tell myself.
I'm unable to play nice today, as everything from yesterday is milling about in my head.
That was blood on his cheek, and he didn't deny it.
Someone walked into that bar and didn't walk out.
"What's going on, poison?" he asks, genuine confusion in his tone as he follows me inside, my coffee mug in hand.
"Everything." Unbidden, tears begin to fall down my cheeks, and I close my eyes against their sting.
"Poison," he breathes, rounding me.
I feel his presence, even with my eyes closed, like a wave of energy surrounding me, encasing me like a protective bubble.
But he can't protect me while killing others.
It's a reminder I need to keep at the forefront as I try to get free of him.
I grip onto the bar, steadying myself as more tears fall. My body quakes, culling every emotion out at once as if it's finally catching up with me.
Suddenly, I have the expressed desire to lie in the middle of the drive and scream and cry until I feel better.
It worked before, why wouldn't it now?
I scold myself at the thought. I'm in jeopardy of becoming as unhinged as my stalker if I'm not careful.
Part of me wonders if I already am.
I've spent years with the guilt he left me with that night, and now I'm a captive, with no hope of escape unless by the grace of god himself. Or fate, which I’m not sure I believe in anymore.
"Poison?" He lifts my chin, and I flutter my eyes open, lashes wet and thick from crying. "Talk to me."
"Why? Nothing I have to say matters."
This stops him in his tracks. "Who told you that?"
I scoff in disbelief. "No one had to tell me shit. Nothing I say matters. Why would it? I'm just a stupid girl who now belongs to someone who may or may not kill me for what I almost did years ago." I'm rambling, sobs choking me.
