He was coming for me.
When? That was the question now, notif.Ifhad died with the girl he had just mutilated and dropped off under the sign of the trailer park I lived in.
The thought sets my teeth on edge. The panic and terror I’d worked hard to suppress was resurfacing, and there was nothing I or anyone else could do to stop it.
My fingers quiver when they latch around the handle at my side. I pop the door and rotate my legs until they’re dangling over the edge of Chase’s passenger seat.
I glance over my shoulder to see him resting his elbow at the open window, his thumb and forefinger pinching at his bottom lip in question. He’s staring at the front of my trailer, not looking at me.
The engine is still running, the lights glaring ahead and I think about thanking him for the ride, then quickly force myself to swallow the words instead.
I had no gratitude for Chase Keller, or his actions.
Rocks crunch beneath my Reeboks when I get out, turning and slamming the door shut with a little more force than I’d intended.
I take one step, then another when I hear him cut the engine. He turns off the lights, opens his door, and slams it with the same force.
And I feel him on my heels when I scramble toward the trailer, working quickly to get the dingy door open, all while trying to clamp down my unease,my fear,in order for him not to see it.
I hold my breath, stepping inside, turning to shut the door when Chase jams himself into the small gap.
He sucks on the inside of his lip, shakes his head, and I contemplate pushing it into him, but quickly decide it’s not worth my time or the energy I’ll expend trying to keep him out.
It was Chase Keller, and he would find his way in if he really wanted to.
And if he didn’t want to? Well, I knew how good he was at disappearing.
Tonight, I’d be lying to myself if I wasn’t curious which he would choose. Turning around, I decide to pretend he’s not here, a soulless apparition I can no longer see.
I walk to the corner of the room, flicking the switch to my fluorescent pink lava lamp that sits beside the small couch wrapped in tufted black suede.
I reach for another switch, flicking on the star-shaped fairy lights that drape across the ceiling.
I had made my trailer my escape, but tonight, it didn’t matter how many switches I flicked, how many walls I illuminated, it still felt gray.
The cloud of Chase’s ominous gaze lingers in every corner, across every surface, until it hangs threateningly over me.
My arm brushes his when I slip past him, rubbing away the goosebumps that tingle across my skin when I step into the kitchen.
It isn’t cold, and I would much prefer a glass of orange juice, but I find myself reaching for the kettle at the stove instead, hoping that a peppermint tea will settle my nausea.
I’m holding the kettle beneath the faucet when Chase says, “Pack a bag, Laik.”
I scoff, feel a scowl overtake my face, and I’m shaking my head, sticking my tongue to the inside of my cheek to stop myself from blasting off at him.
Who the fuck does he think he is?
I shut the water off and return the kettle to the stove with a thunk, choosing instead to ignore him. I give him—his demand, his entire presence—zero attention.
It’s only when my hand starts to twist the dial at the stove, that I feel a solid wall of muscle trap me from behind.
Chase’s chest is almost pressed against my back when his fingers envelop mine.
He’s so close.
I can feel the vibrations of his heart beating between my shoulder blades.
My spine stiffens, my pulse hiccupping, linking across to his, and I hate that.I hate it so much.
