4. Jax

Jax

I stand against the door, listening to his footsteps fade away. Of course, the gorgeous man of all my fantasies breezes into my life with a shovel to unbury the skeletons of my past. The box apartment I live in has three doors, one to a bedroom, one to a bathroom and toilet, and the last is the front door. Everything else is within the cream-coloured walls that carry a sickening smell of mold. The horrible beige carpets are stained from the multiple tenants. It's a shit hole, but for as long as I pay rent, it's mine.

Of fucking course, this is happening today. Because Karma is out to see me ruined. I bang my head against the door. Did I have enough money to run yet? Yeah, I could do it, it'd be hard, but…I don't want to leave, not yet.

I start forward and slip. I catch myself on the wall and hold there for a moment while my heart tries to recover from the jump start I just gave it. White catches my attention, and I bend and scoop up the envelope that should not be here.

I rip it open and put the letter on the counter, pacing quickly in the kitchen and pulling my hair before I stop in front of it and read the words.

"Princess, you looked beautiful today. The way the sunlight fell on your tears was the most exquisite art." I pick up the paper and scrunch it and roar at it. "YOU ASSHOLE!"

The fact that none of my neighbours worry or complain about the curse words or sudden scream this late at night is just because we're all so used to it.

I slump against the counter, smooth it out, open a drawer without looking, and dump it inside with all the other notes he's left for me. I flop down on the counter and groan. The cold feels so nice. Maybe if I just lean here long enough, it will all just go away.

I peel myself off the counter and stomp into my bedroom. My window is still closed, but I check the string and make sure no one has been in here. Unbroken. I crawl under my single bed and it's shitty mattress to pull my phone out of the hole I've cut in the wall.

I lay on my back and turn the phone on. All part of the same routine. Go about my life, get home to my empty apartment. Pretend the world didn't beat me down a bit more and ignore my favourite stalker.

The phone comes on, and I see ten texts. I open them, sit up, and stare. My stomach feels like someone has dropped an icy rock inside, and my hand shakes enough that I need both hands to keep the phone steady.

Pictures of me. He was close. So close.

I shriek into my palm, careful not to let any other sound escape, and scroll through until I reach a text message.

Beautiful princess, beautiful. Sleep well tonight. Thinking of you always.

I close my eyes and try not to lose my shit completely. I lied to that guy, Dane. Of course, I lied. I have only lived here for six months. I have moved roughly every six months for the last five years. Ever since I got out of the psych ward, I shift address. My stalker first started contacting me while I was locked up, writing letters that didn't seem that threatening, but maybe the medication helped in his favour. I don't know how he got my phone number. Few people have it. Even Sparrow doesn't know I have this phone hidden.

I've changed phones and numbers four times. The messages come within days of me changing. Every single time. So, I try not to use phones. Hell, I want nothing to do with them most of the time. Having a phone is just another way he has access to me.

I go to my closet, open it, and pry the back balsa wood panel off it and pull out the backpack. It's got a wad of cash, clothes, my essentials. Everything I need to survive if I have to run. With a growl, I open the pocket and pull out a little book and flick through the pages. I stop at a page with the heading Stalker. 216 letters. They are all marked in groups of five. I add another line and turn the page and write ‘9 photo messages and 1 text'. Page by page, I look. 72 Dahlias. 1 Bleeding Heart blossom. 157 Emails. 900 missed calls. 10 teddies. 5 Valentine's gifts. 5 Birthday presents. 5 Christmas hampers. A piece of jewelry every year on the day Louis proposed to me. Those jewelry pieces hurt me the most.

How does he fucking know this information? It's not Louis, I'm sure of it. But it's someone close. But who? This stalker is sick! And he knows too much about me and my life before. I can't figure it out, and I feel like I'm going crazy.

I record in detail the times and dates of each message and when I found the envelope, including the message. With a frustrated grunt, I pack the bag up and put it back in its hiding spot.

He is smart, this stalker of mine. Every attempt to slip past him has failed. He's obsessed with me, dangerously so. The stalker speaks to me like I'm an intimate partner, a lover. He knows my phone number, my address, my job. He knows how I think and act. All my weaknesses and strengths, he knows my fears. I'm not sure what else he knows, but there are some things he simply must not find out.

I just wish I knew who he was. It keeps me up at night, wondering who this faceless entity is that follows me around so devotedly. Is it the man who sells watches on the street corner? The woman who works at the timber yard. The cab driver. My neighbour. I don't know.

Whenever I get a note, letter, or phone call, it leaves me with this sick sense of being violated.

I just want someone to help me. Believe me. I know that won't happen, though, so I haven't told anyone about him. Ha! If I just tried to ask for police help, I can only imagine the laughs I would get. I rub my arm over my nose and get up.

I stomp to my cupboard, pull out a bottle of water and a box of cereal, and go sit on the couch and eat. It gets steadily darker, and I ignore everything as I shovel the sugary morsels into my mouth.

I can see them moving out of the corner of my eye. They are unusually thick tonight. Bob the Bastard slams things in my closet, while Patty the Pincher paces in the kitchen. Patty steals. She's ornery as fuck, but we have a truce. I leave shiny wrappers on the counter for her to take, and she leaves my things alone.

Gideon slumps on the couch next to me, slipping an arm over my shoulder.

"He was following me again."

Gideon stiffens.

"Trapped, no matter which way I turn," I mutter and hurl the bottle at the wall. My neighbour slams his fist on the wall and yells out, but I ignore him. "I'm like a rat in their fucking experiment. Every end is a bad one, but I'm racing towards the goal, and they are closing the ways back. Sparrow or the stalker, hallucinations or starvation, poverty and illness, or a life in a cage."

Gideon takes my chin and turns my face to his. I wrench free and stand up. He moves with blurring speed and grips my arms. I shudder and look at the ground for a long moment while I get control of myself, then I look up to where his eyes would be if he wasn't a fucking man-shaped dark stain in my house. If he were more than a hallucination, I'd be staring into his eyes.

But he's not.

"I'm not giving up, G. Don't think I'm giving up, but my odds are stacked. I'm losing. I need help, and there is no one I can ask."

He shakes his head, and I can tell he's frustrated with his inability to communicate with me. He thumps his chest.

I smile up at him sadly. "You can't help me in the light, and we both know that's where the monster's hide."

He wraps his arms around me, holding me in a crushing hug. It's so cruel, so unfair. I hug him back just as tightly. Tears slide down my cheeks, and then my phone lights up, all the black shadows vanish, and I'm standing on my own in the middle of my apartment.

A sob escapes me, and I flick the lights on because I just can't. I stomp to my phone and look down at who is calling. I take a moment to calm myself, and then I pick it up and answer.

"River."

"Just a friendly reminder that you're expected at the engagement party tomorrow."

I sit down on the couch heavily. "Damn. I forgot."

"You always forget when we're supposed to meet up." River sounds amused. "Be there or Eddie will go on a warpath. He's been raving about seeing you all day. He's, uh, I mean, it's been years since he's seen you. The old man's excited."

"I bet the Queen loves it."

"Oh, yeah, you should see that spectacular colour of puce that has become part of her permanent complexion. Truly, it inspires sonnets in my dark heart."

I chuckle. "I'm not dressing up."

"Purlease, no one expects you to. I think everyone's going to just pretend you don't exist. Well, except Eddie." His deep, familiar voice soothes the jagged edges inside me.

"Suits me fine."

"You gotta see my new bike, it's perfect."

I snort. "Hasn't been confiscated yet?"

"Not as yet, but it's still early."

"All right. I have to go, things to do."

"Don't bullshit me. You're sitting at home eating cereal out of the box. Tell me I'm wrong."

I blush but don't say anything.

"Fucking nailed it. Right. Eat your gross cereal and be there tomorrow. Early. It's an all-day event."

"What? All day?"

River chuckles. "That's right, Jax. All damn day long."

I groan.

"Bring a gun and a shovel. We may need to hide some bodies."

I burst into laughter at the outrageous demand. It's a good thing I know he's joking, someone might think we're master criminals the way we joke.

"Haha. If my phone's tapped and the cops show up, I'm pointing them at you."

"Rat."

"Give Up."

"Snitch."

"Love ya, Riv."

"Love you, too. See ya tomorrow. I'll come drag you down there myself if you do a no show. I am not doing this on my own."

"I'll be there, I promise." I hang up the phone and look at the time. Midnight. I stand up and flick the light off, ignoring the way my hallucinations spring into existence, and go flop down on the bed.

I sit up and kick my boots off, and then lay down again, smiling as Gideon crawls in beside me and holds me tight.

I'm lucky it's a new moon, and it's so dark tonight. He can stay, not all night, but some of it.

"That stalker is really bothering me. I'm going to have to do something about him." My jaw pops when I yawn. I think about the drawer full of letters I've received. I want to burn them, but something holds me back. A nagging thought that I might need them. Evidence or something.

At least he hasn't left any more gifts. The Bleeding Heart blossoms were creepy. I had stomped them to death out the front of my door, but the smell permeated the apartment for days.

The next day, I received a black Dahlia. I get one Dahlia a month. A black Dahlia with a burgundy colour that fades to black. It reminds me of blood. I can't find it in me to stomp those, so I take them out the next day and bury them in the woods.

I hate Dahlias.

I snuggle my face into the pillow and shift against Gideon.

"Tomorrow, the Dahlia is due."

Gideon makes a growling noise.

"I know. I'll take care of it. And I'll be careful." I echo his growling noise, then start to laugh when he tickles me.

We wrestle and fight until I flop back on my back and turn my head to watch him.

"You better not ever leave me, G."

He reaches out and draws a cross over my heart.

My eyes sting, but I blink them back and curl into him. He's my best friend, and the thought that one day I'm going to turn a light on and he will vanish forever is the single most terrifying prospect I can think to happen to me.

It's a long time before my mind calms, but Gideon lies beside me, his fingers gently running up and down my back. For tonight, at least, I can pretend for a little while that everything's okay and perfectly normal.