Why can’t my life just be that simple?
A flicker catches my attention. One of the streetlights in the courtyard blinks every few seconds, casting strange shadows across the sidewalk before lighting everything back up again. I find myself staring at it longer than I probably should, waiting for something to step out from the darkness between each flicker.
My phone chimes from somewhere behind me. I jump so hard, a squeak escapes my mouth before I can stop it.
“Oh my god,” I mutter, pressing a hand against my chest as my pulse races. “Get it together, Maddie.”
Turning toward my bed where my phone lays glowing against the comforter, I can’t help shaking my head at myself. I’m officially becoming the girl everyone screams at during horror movies. The one who says “it’s probably nothing,” right before she gets herself killed.
I grab my phone and unlock it, immediately smiling when I see Miles’ name.
Miles: It’s getting late. I’m on my way to pick you up. I don’t want you walking in the dark.
Of course he was.
I hold my phone against my chest for a second and close my eyes.
God, I miss him. I miss him far more than I should after only a few hours apart.
After everything that's happened today, all I want is to forget about my father, forget about the text messages, and forget about the fear that follows me everywhere I go and just be with Miles. I want one normal night where we order takeout, watch another terrible horror movie, and argue over which slasher villain would win in a fight.
I want to know what it feels like to exist without constantly waiting for the next terrible thing to happen.
My eyes drift back toward the window, and for a second, I almost let myself believe that maybe tonight will be different and I can have one normal night. Maybe I can stop expecting the worst thing imaginable to happen every time I let my guard down.
Then something moves in the courtyard. At first, I think it’s just a trick of the light. The streetlight flickers again, castingthe courtyard in darkness for a split second before illuminating everything beneath it. My eyes scan the empty walkway, trying to find whatever caught my attention, but there’s nothing there.
I let out a shaky breath, almost laughing at myself.
See? This is exactly what I mean. I’m so used to waiting for something terrible that my brain is creating monsters where there aren’t any. I’m about to turn away when the light flickers again. And this time…I see him.
My entire body goes still. There’s a man standing in the middle of the courtyard. Not walking or passing through. Just standing there, like he’s been there the entire time.
My breath catches somewhere deep in my chest, and suddenly the room feels like it’s shrinking around me. The air becomes too heavy and thick, and I can’t seem to pull in enough of it. He’s dressed completely in black, a hood pulled low over his head, hiding his face from view. I can’t make out his features from this distance, but I don’t need to. Because there’s something about the way he stands there that feels familiar.
The way he’s completely still. The way his attention seems fixed on one place. My window.
A cold wave rushes through me. My mind immediately tries to reject the thought, because it’s impossible. It has to be. But my body doesn’t care about logic when it has memory. The countless nights spent trapped inside that house, the sound of his footsteps, the feeling of knowing something bad was coming before it ever happened. And right now, every instinct I have is screaming the same thing.
It’s him.
My heart starts pounding so hard, it feels like it's trying to break out of my chest. My hands go numb, and suddenly I’m not standing in my dorm room anymore. I’m fifteen years old again, and I’m trapped. I’m afraid, and someone is watching me.
My phone slips from my hand before I even realize I’ve let go of it. It hits the floor, the sharp crack of the screen breaking through the silence, but I barely hear it.
Miles.
The thought cuts through the panic. Miles is coming here. He’s driving straight toward whoever is standing outside my window.
What if he sees him? What if he gets hurt because of me?
The fear is enough to snap me out of the memory, and I drop to my knees beside the bed, desperately reaching underneath it for my phone.
“Come on,” I whisper, my voice shaking. “Please…”
My fingers search blindly across the floor until they finally brush against the edge of my phone. I grab it and pull it free, barely noticing the new crack stretching across the screen. I hit Miles’ contact and press call. The phone rings, I look back toward the window, but he’s gone. The courtyard is empty.
The call connects, and Miles answers almost immediately.
