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Him: What, you thought this was some sort of joke? I’m not laughing, little whore. I know exactly what you fucking did, and I’m gonna make you pay. 3/17/17. You remember, don’t you?
I turned my phone off and threw it to the end of the bed, my entire body shaking as chills raced through me. That date at the end of the message… oh, god. Whoever was texting me, he knew about what I did in March last year. The thing I refused to let myself think about anymore. The thing everyone else swore wasn’t my fault.
The guy on the phone obviously didn’t agree, and he wasn’t just some bored frat guy getting his kicks by sexting random girls either. He hated me. He wanted to hurt me. Worst of all, he knew everything about me. He could even get into my most private possessions whenever he wanted. He’d already shown me that by hacking my phone.
So what else could he do?
What else would he do?
I jumped up and walked over to my window, peeking out the dove-gray curtains as if I actually expected to see a person in a black trench coat with a pair of binoculars peering up at me. Of course, there was no one there except an early-morning jogger powering through the courtyard and a gardener sweeping up red and yellow leaves.
My eyes fell on an unfamiliar black SUV parked in the lot on the right of the courtyard. I squinted, trying to get a better look. The parking spot was for Bamford students only, and I’d never seen anyone here with that sort of car before.
I figured it could be new, seeing as Roden students were frequently gifted brand new cars and other such things by their wealthy parents, but as soon as I made it obvious I was looking by pulling the curtains further back, the SUV started up and squealed out of the parking lot.
Trembling, I went and sat down on the bed. Just a coincidence, I told myself. A student owns that car, and they were racing out to grab some coffee and bagels.
Deep down, I knew that wasn’t true. Whoever was in that SUV was watching me, and they wanted me to know.
But who the hell was it?