Unknown Number.
You're being childish.
You know I hate being ignored.
You think you can hide from me?
I'll make you regret this.
I deleted them without reading past the first line, but it didn't matter. There was always anothernumber, another message, another reminder that I couldn't outrun him.
"Lucy." Joanna caught my arm as I passed the register, her voice low enough that the customers couldn't hear. "You're shaking. Have you eaten anything today?"
I looked down at my hands. She was right. I hadn't even noticed.
"I'm fine."
"You keep saying that but I don't think it means what you think it means." She pressed a granola bar into my palm, her eyes searching my face. "The texts haven't stopped, have they?"
I shook my head.
"Then you need to go to the sheriff. Today. Not tomorrow, not next week. Today."
"Joanna." I met her eyes, and whatever she saw there made her stop. "Please. I just need to get through my shift."
"So what's your plan? Wait until he does something worse?"
I didn't have an answer for that. My plan was to be invisible. To be so small and quiet and forgettable that eventually he'd lose interest and move on. It had never worked before, but I didn't know what else to do.
"I'll think about it," I said.
Joanna's expression told me exactly what she thought of that answer. But she let it go, and I went back to the floor, back to the coffee and the customersand the mindless routine that kept me from falling apart.
The café closed at ten. I was the last one out, locking the door behind me while Joanna watched from her car.
"At least let me drive you," she called through the open window.
"I'm fine. You should go home."
She didn't look convinced. "Lucy."
"I promise I'll text when I get there. Go. You've been here since six." I waved her off, standing under the café's exterior light like I was waiting for something, someone. Making it look like I had a plan.
She hesitated, then finally pulled away. I watched her taillights disappear around the corner, waited another thirty seconds to make sure she was really gone, then started walking.
The exhaustion had settled into my bones, heavy and dull. Three days of barely sleeping, of jumping at every sound, of watching the door every time it opened. I should have taken the ride. I knew that. But something stubborn in me refused to let Evan turn me into someone who was afraid to walk six blocks alone.
I walked faster, hands shoved in my jacket pockets, eyes on the sidewalk. Six blocks had never felt so long. Every shadow looked like a threat. Every sound made my heart stutter.
But nothing happened. No one followed me. No one jumped out from behind a parked car or grabbed me in a dark alley. Just the quiet streets and the cold air and the steady rhythm of my own footsteps.
Maybe I was overreacting. Maybe the texts were just texts, empty threats from a man who was all talk and no action.
Maybe I was safe.
I almost believed it.
The hallway outside my apartment was dim, the overhead light flickering the way it always did. I dug my keys from my bag, already thinking about the shower I was going to take, the bed I was going to collapse into, the few hours of sleep I might manage before the nightmares started.
