The one thing I did share with Evan was how much I hated working for the hockey team. Which was funny to him because he knows how much I hate sports.
I shake my head. “I just don’t want Des to be alone.”
“He’s not. And you know that. Me and Grandma Harris are looking out for him. There was a reason you left, stick to the plan. Whatever it is, you’ve got this. Nothing can kill you—”
“As long as I don’t let it,” I mutter, finishing his statement. It’s something he’s said to me many times throughout our friendship.
“Exactly. You’ve accomplished a lot of things, and you’ll get through this, too.”
“You promise?” I stare at him, knowing he’d never be able to. No one can. Life is going to do what it does, with or without your permission.
“I do. You’re the strongest person I know.”
I don’t know if I believe that anymore, but I don’t tell him that; instead, I say, “Love you.”
“Me too. Now, I’m going to go back to sleep, I don’t have class for a few more hours.”
We say our goodbyes and hang up just as I near a wooded part of the campus. Less than a minute later, the hair on my arms stands at attention, goose bumps dancing across my skin. Eeriness washes over me and my senses are tingling, and I can’t shake the feeling that someone is watching me. Leaves rustle in the distance, drawing my gaze to the trees. I fixate on my surroundings but there’s no one there. Throwing one more look around, I step off the curb to cross the parking lot toward my dorm.
And that’s when I see it. A blacked-out van idling at the end of the street, windows tinted, engine quiet. I may not be able to see who’s behind that wheel, but something tells me whoever it is has their sights set on me.
I move faster, rushing across the road, glancing back every so often. They stay there for a moment, but as soon as my soles hit the grass, they roll forward.
Suddenly, my mind starts to race.
Could that be Jackson? It can’t be. He wouldn’t have had time to limp to an unmarked van and follow me without me noticing.
Which means, it’s someone else entirely.
Blood starts to pump in my ears, the adrenaline spiking. Keeping my eyes ahead of me, I move deeper into the yard sothat if they get out to grab me, I’d have a head start at getting away. The window starts to inch down, and my heart hammers in my chest.
“Sam,” a deep voice belts out, and that’s all it takes for me to book it.
I take off in a full sprint, weaving across the lawn and straight for the glass double doors of my dorm. The sound of tires screeching and someone racing behind me lights a fire under me. I yank the door open and run into the stairwell, taking them two at a time, determined not to stop until I reach the top. My lungs are on fire, legs aching with every forward motion.
By the time I make it to the second level, the door opens on the first and I peer down just long enough to see a man’s hand grip the railing just seconds before the pads of his shoes hit the threading.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” I go faster now, pulling myself up by the railing.
Thinking quickly, I yank open the second-floor door and let it slam then snatch my sneakers off to stifle my footfalls as I make a dash up the final flight of stairs, being careful to stay against the wall to avoid being seen. Thankfully, the stairwell is well lit, so my position won’t be given away by the light shining in from my floor.
I close the door softly and bolt down the hall to my room, fumbling to pull my keys from my hoodie along the way. I finally make it to my door and get the key into the lock just as I hear the door burst open at the end of the hall. Panicked and out of breath, I get the lock free and storm inside, frantically locking it again.
Needing to know if my theory is correct, I look down at my phone and frantically swipe through the messages from theunknown caller. It was easy to assume it was Jackson harassing me; he does hate me after all. Thatwashis voice on the other end of the line last night, right? But this… it can’t be him.
I reread the messages, my back nearly buckling when I really take in the words:
Unknown Number:I’m going to get you bitch.
Unknown Number:Whatever you’re looking for, end it.
Unknown Number:Nearly 1,000 girls go missing every day. Don’t end up as one of them.
Just then, my phone buzzes, and another text loads in the thread.
Unknown Number:I’m sure Miranda can’t wait to be reunited with her precious daughter. But then what would happen to poor little Desmond?
“O-oh God,” I stammer, my hand instantly going to my mouth to silence the scream building in my throat. My hands are shaking, and there is no holding back the emotions now. My vision blurs as the tears fall, heavy droplets trailing my face then through my fingers.
