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Please, God, please don’t let anything happen to him.The only reason he’s involved in this mess is because of me. Please. Don’t let him get hurt. Please.
The doors open on the sixth floor and everything appears calm.
I step out, cautiously looking around, then find a recess in the corridor where I stand frozen, my back against the wall, straining to hear… anything.
One minute.
Two.
Tears sting my eyes.
Would I hear anything from up here? Would I even know if something was wrong?
My finger twitches over the nine, ready to call for help.
Three minutes.
My phone buzzes.
A text from Marcus.
All clear.
I exhale shakily and jog back down two flights of stairs to the fourth floor, where Marcus is waiting outside my door.Thank you, God.
“What happened?” I ask, not sure I want to know.
“It’s not good,” he says quietly.
I step inside – and my stomach twists. My neat, tidy little flat has been turned upside down. The couch is tipped over, the back of it slashed open. Soil from my plant pot spills across the rug, the long green stems snapped in half. Books are scattered everywhere, some with pages torn out, and my TV is face down on the floor.
“There’s definitely no one here?” My voice shakes as I stand frozen by the door.
“I checked everywhere - bedroom, toilet, closet. Whoever did this was trying to send a message,” Marcus says.
I turn to glare at him with my jaw hanging down.
“Amessage? Like what?Get out or die?”
Rage replaces fear in a heartbeat. Chris. Ithasto be him.
My eyes jump to my favourite spot on my bookshelf, where the wooden block Marcus gave me lives. It’s not there, but a small brown square on the floor catches my eye and my heart does a slight leap as I cross the room quickly, crouching to pick it up. I hold the wooden block in my hands for a moment, taking a deep breath before I stand back up, sliding it into my coat pocket.
“They’re trying to intimidate us,” Marcus says. “Let us know they’re serious.”
“I told him I wasn’t going to tell!” I shout.
My eyes burn, but I refuse to let the tears fall. “Why the fuck would he do this?”
“Pack a bag,” Marcus says softly. “Get anything you need for a few days. You’re staying at mine.”
The tears I’d been holding back suddenly break free as a whirlwind of emotions overwhelms me. Disbelief. Gratitude. The surreal chaos of it all.
What alternate reality am I living in? Just over a week ago, I’d been living a normal life, going to work and hoping to bump into the man of my dreams in the coffee shop. And now I’m going to be spendinga few dayswith him athisplace as we wait for my psychotic murderous ex-boyfriend to be arrested?
A psychotic murderous ex-boyfriend who, by the looks of it, wants me dead as well.
I head to the bedroom, and the destruction that greets me sends my blood boiling. My clothes have been strewn all around the room, my drawers pulled out and emptied, and my mattress slashed down the middle, same as the couch.