My heart starts racing and it feels like I've gone completely sober in the span of about sixty seconds. I'm so stupid for thinking I could drink to ease my anxiety. Being a drunk woman alone on a street as dusk settles in isn't a brilliant idea. I've just been so scared all the time. I'm weak sometimes, and I can't always keep my guard up. It's killing me.
Luckily for me, the bus is ready as soon as I jog up to the stop. I find my spot directly behind the driver after dropping my fare into the machine, and I think I'm home free. But the driver doesn't close the door, and he doesn't put the bus in gear right away or drive off.
A lump forms in my throat as he watches out the door with his eyes trained on the side mirror, like he's waiting. Because that's exactly what he's doing.
Panic floods my entire body as the man who was following me climbs the steps into the bus with his eyes lock on me. I murmur, "Oh, God," and keep my head down, now trembling at the idea that he's come for me. But he drops his bus fare into the machine and passes by me, choosing a seat somewhere in the middle of the crowded bus.
I'm so scared, I can't turn to look where he's sitting, and I don't think I want to. If I get his face in my mind, I'll have nightmares of him stalking me. It'll make my entire life worse. I already can't sleep without a drink, and working under Dimitri’s supervision keeps my fight or flight in high gear constantly.
When the bus takes off, I press my eyes closed and count the turns. This is a public bus. There are witnesses everywhere. If he was just trying to catch up to get on the bus, I'm being an idiot for panicking. But if he gets off at my stop, I'll know I'm being followed. Still, he won't do anything here with this many people on board.
But the bus stops and I dart down the steps and off as fast as I can. I don't waste time walking now. My body is too rigid with terror to go slowly. I jog toward home, less than three blocks away, and try not to look over my shoulder again.
But footsteps behind me speed up to match my pace. All I can do is run faster while my lungs burn and my legs scream and my purse slaps against my hip with every step. I have gone mad with fear, and I know it. This is going to kill me. I am going to die on this street of a heart attack or something and they'll scrape my body off the sidewalk.
My mind spins a thousand horrid tales as the apartment building comes into view at the end of the block, and I push myself harder. But as I approach and my vision focuses in on my surroundings instead of the panic-induced alcohol blurriness, I see blue and red lights flashing against the brick walls.
Two police cars sit in front of my building with their lights spinning, and an ambulance is parked behind them with its back doors open. People from neighboring buildings stand on the sidewalk watching while officers move in and out of the front entrance.
I skid to a stop and spin around to look behind me.
The man is gone.
My chest heaves while I try to catch my breath and scan the street for any sign of him. He was right behind me. I heard his footsteps. But now the sidewalk's empty in both directions.
"Tatiana!"
Lena's voice makes me turn back toward the building. She's standing next to the ambulance wrapped in a blanket with a paramedic checking her head. Her face is pale and there's blood on her shirt.
I run toward her and grab her arms. "Oh, my God, what happened? Are you okay?"
"Someone broke into the apartment." Her voice shakes and tears run down her cheeks. "I came home from my shift and the door was open and…"
"Did they hurt you?" I look at the blood on her shirt and feel my stomach turn. "Lena, whose blood is that?"
I feel horrible. This is all my fault. I knew something bad would happen. The instant that cop told me this was linked to organized crime, I knew. Those men probably didn't even have to know I was there to hear it through the grapevine that someone had seen. It took them a few days to confirm it was me, but they know. I glance up the street in fear, but there’s still no sign of that man, so I focus on Lena again.
"Mine." She touches the side of her head where there's a cut above her ear. "They hit me when I walked in. I don't remember much after that until I woke up and they were gone."
A police officer approaches us with a notepad in his hand. "Are you Tatiana Sarnova?"
"Yes." My voice comes out barely above a whisper, shaking so badly, I barely recognize it.
"This is your apartment?" He gestures toward the building.
"I live here with her." I tighten my grip on Lena's arm, wrapping both of mine around it. "What happened?"
"Your roommate came home and interrupted a burglary in progress." He flips through his notepad. "The perpetrator struck her and fled before we arrived. We need you to come upstairs and tell us if anything's missing."
"I don't understand." I look between the officer and Lena. He has no clue that this isn't a burglary, but I see the fear in Lena's eyes. She knows, but how do I hold back the truth? If I tell them what I think, is this enough for them to protect me? "What did they take?" I ask, knowing they probably took nothing. We have nothing of value. This was about that murder.
"That's what we're trying to figure out." The officer nods at the entrance and says, "Come on. Let's take a look."
He starts moving, but I turn to Lena and hiss, "What did you tell them? Did they ask about the murder I reported?" These are different cops, clearly not the same seniority as the detective who interviewed me.
"I didn’t know what to say," she whimpers and shakes her head. We had a long conversation about dirty cops the other night, and it scared her good. "What if they tell someone?" Her face is flooded with fear, and I feel it pulse in my throat too.
"Go to the hospital and get checked… I have to go."
