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Steps 4, 5, and 6.Isolate. Control. Begin next level of abuse.
It’s just a big, fat, screwed-up coincidence. The product of someone’s imagination—atwistedimagination, but imaginary all the same. When the next chapters arrive, the characters’ paths will diverge. I’ll be chiding myself over how paranoid I was, how much time and energy I wasted worrying about something that didn’t exist.
I close my eyes and inhale deeply.Just a fluke.Happenstance—the story, the location of the sender, a detective knowing more about me than he’s let on . . . all of it. After a while, I start to feel a little better, a little calmer. But then my laptop chimes, alerting me that another new email has arrived. I click over, and whatever peace I’ve managed to muster disappears faster than the colorfrom my face.
Professor Davis,
I thought I’d send the next assignment, which is due in a few days, just in case you have trouble opening my document through the portal again.
I hope the story has caught your attention and you enjoy how it unfolds.
Thank you,
Hannah Greer
CHAPTER
6
Chapter 2—Hannah’s Novel
“Oh my God, that’s exactly what she sounds like.”
Jocelyn shut her locker, laughing at a joke Lucas had told. They weren’t athing—but a few weeks back, they’d fooled around. Even though Lucas’s home life was shittier than hers, he always seemed to have a smile on his face. Jocelyn appreciated that quality more than most girls her age, who were focused only on looks. She found Lucas unconventionally handsome, with his shaggy hair, prominent nose, and wiry frame.
“I gotta run,” Lucas said. “My class is at the other end of the building, and Dickson locks the door if you’re one second late. I already have detention twice this week.”
“See you later.”
Jocelyn had finished packing her books into her book bag when she felt a presence come up behind her, just before a heavy palm wrapped over her shoulder. Somehow, she knew who it was.
“Hello, Jocelyn.”
“Hi, Mr. Sawyer.” She turned to look up at him. His presence made her feel calmer. And yet nervous, too. How was that possible?
He lifted his chin down thehall. “Who was that?”
“Lucas.”
Mr. Sawyer was silent, yet the tension set in his jaw spoke volumes. He was waiting for more.
“He’s just a friend.”
The muscle in his cheek ticked.
“My . . . ummm, friend is sort of hanging around with him. He was looking for her.”
Mr. Sawyer’s face softened. “Keep your focus on your schoolwork. Not boys.”
Jocelyn nodded. “I do.”
He smiled. “Good. How are you today?”
Her insides grew warm. No one ever cared to ask how she was doing. “I’m okay.” The memory of how she’d felt alone in the classroom with him the other day hit, and she lowered her gaze to stare at his shirt. A crisp button-up, ironed, neat. It made her realize she should be trying harder, in her slightly rumpled secondhand clothes.
“Good. I have an assignment for you.”
She couldn’t help it—her eyes shot up, meeting his, wide with curiosity, excitement. But she immediately grew nervous that she might disappoint him. “Okay.” Her voice was tentative.