“You don’t? So I guess you don’t know about your friend threatening me, either.” He snarls, pointing at the bruise on his face.
He’s too close. Too angry. I can see the dark resentment filling his eyes. And I freeze. The old feeling of my feet being held down by overwhelming fear comes back.
“W-what friend?” My words tremble out of my mouth as it starts to fill with saliva. I gulp it down, forcing my stomach to settle, my rapid breathing to slow down. I need to do something, but I can’t think clearly.
I wish I could smash my skull against the nearest tree and watch as everything breaks and spills. No. No. I won’t go down that path. I’m not that person anymore.
Jacob lets out a bitter laugh. I don’t even know the guy. We just exchanged a few words, and I never promised anything.
“I thought it’d be easy, but fuck, you are a pain. And pain is what I’m going to make you feel.”
My brain starts to scream again, and suddenly I remember the defense moves Lori showed me before I moved to the dorm. I let all the books go but one and use it to hit him in the face, before stomping on his foot and kneeing him in the balls. He lets go of me with a grunt, and I turn, ready to run, but I only make two steps before his hand grabs the back of my jacket. I hear a tear as he yanks me back, letting out an enraged growl. My ass hits the ground, then a punch hits the side of my face, shoving me onthe hard asphalt. The sharp pain holds me down, reverberating inside my head. And I’m back in my father’s house. He’s the one towering over me, telling me what a fucking burden I am and how tempted he is to just get rid of me.
A slap to my cheek brings me back to the campus. My head pulses with pain, and I don’t know where my glasses are. Jacob is screaming at me to stand up, but my legs aren’t working. He roughly grips the back of my jacket again and starts dragging me toward his car. As the collar starts choking me, my brother’s face pops into my head. What would Oliver do? My fighting spirit comes back with a roar. I start to thrash around, kicking my legs and screaming like a banshee.
Jacob suddenly releases me. I can breathe again easily. When I turn on my knees, ready to give him hell, he isn’t there. He is backed against a tree trunk ten feet away from me. It’s a bit blurry without my glasses, but I see a man with his back to me holding Jacob up from his throat—feet not touching the ground.
“Fucking piece of shit!” I hear the man hissing in Jacob’s red face as he gurgles, clawing at the hand around his neck to no avail.
“You shouldn’t have even looked at him. Now I’ll end you. The increasing pressure behind your eyes, the unbearable absence of air, my fingers pressing against your throat are the last things you’ll ever feel. Twenty more seconds and you’ll be food for crows.” The man’s tone is cold and unfeeling.
Is he going to kill him?
“Stop,” I whisper before I find my voice. “Stop!” I push myself up, grabbing one of the books I dropped from the ground.
The man slowly turns my way. His deep eyes lock with mine, and I wobble, feeling suddenly unsteady on my feet. Am Ihallucinating? I lift my hand to the pulsing side of my head, but the pain is too strong not to be real. I can’t stop staring. Gods, it’s him. The man in the white mask. Just like I remember, he’s tall and brawny. But this time I can actuallysquintat him properly—without my glasses, everything still looks a bit hazy at this distance.
“Stop?” The mask covers his voice a little, but it’s deep, rumbly, and toned down. Did I hear it before?
I’ve experienced enough violence tonight. I can’t, don’t want to see more. I nod. He immediately drops Jacob on the ground with a loud thud and gives his full attention to me. His eyes, I feel like they could really pierce right through me. I don’t sense any danger from him, but if I’m right, he’s the one who’s been stalking me.
“Y-you. Were you following me?” I raise the book with both hands as he starts advancing my way.
“Yes,” he simply says, stopping a few feet from me.
“Ha, I’m not getting worse,” I utter aloud, so relieved that my PTSD did not cause…him. “Did you save me from being crushed by…?”
“A scaffolding,” he finishes for me. “Yes.”
Shit! It was real. Excitement, relief, and fear have formed a ball in my chest, it’s getting bigger and bigger, making me sweat and pant. My fight-or-flight response is still very sensitive.
“You’ve been watching me, why?” This is the one-million-dollar question, along with his identity. His hoodie is black, just like his jeans, and up over his head, hiding his hair. Who is he?
“I was waiting,” he responds, taking another step forward. The book I’m holding starts shaking—because my hands are. Uncontrollably.
“Waiting for w-what?” My voice cracks as I feel tears running down my face. I don’t know what’s happening to me. Maybe it’s the end of the adrenaline rush, or I’m just now realizing what has happened to me and how unsafe I am right now.
“For you to see me,” he growls softly, and then more deeply when I take a step back. “The faster you run, the quicker I’ll catch you. And after I do, you won’t leave me ever again.”
His words make me gasp with shock. He likes me? Wants me? Was waiting for…me? I’m struggling to understand what I’m feeling right now. The dreams I’ve been having about him shuffle in front of my eyes, confusing my thoughts. Because this is reality. Caution and submissiveness are fighting inside me.
My head hurts. If he wanted, he could subdue me easily since he is twice my size and I’m only holding a ridiculous book. But instead of pouncing on me, the masked man drops to his knees. Right on the ground in front of me. He sits back on his calves, spreads his thighs, and plants his big hands on his knees.
Why is he doing this? After letting me know he won’t let me go. Is he trying to look less intimidating? That mask is fucking with my head.
“Who are you?” My voice is watery and pleading.
“You know who I am, Little Chick.”
