Page 8

Ella

There isn’t a doubt in my mind that I should have known better. My entire life, I’ve always been too trusting, even when I’m trying to be cautious. It was naive of me to assume that just because I’ve gone through something traumatic that my judgment has gotten better.

Something about Michael just felt different, though.

Actually, it still does. I can’t help but wonder if I’ve just made the biggest mistake of my life by telling him to leave me alone.

It was by no means an overreaction – I think that just about anyone would say I was being too kind, that I should have ripped him a new one – but part of me wants to ask for an explanation.

Am I crazy for thinking he might have been watching me to keep me safe? Or have I officially lost my mind?

Regardless, it doesn’t matter. I’ve already told him to give me space, and he hasn’t replied to the message.

I assume that means he’s going to respect my wishes.

Just in case he doesn’t though, I make quick work of disconnecting every single camera inside of my house.

I consider taking my outdoor cameras offline too, but that would leave me feeling too exposed.

I need to be able to monitor my surroundings.

Once I’m finished, I take a deep, steadying breath and go back to my desk.

Even if I want to make today a short day, there’s still so much I have to get done before I can officially log off.

At the very least I need to get some more social media posts scheduled and respond to my boss’s emails.

Everyone goes through tough situations; it’s no excuse to leave the rest of my team hanging.

If I liked my job any less, I don’t think I’d bother. I believe in their mission – our mission—so I’ll power through my anxiety and make sure everyone else is set up for success before I allow myself to thoroughly freak out.

About an hour later, I’ve completed my duties to the best of my ability and ask my boss for permission to log off early, claiming I still have to unpack some necessities—which isn’t entirely untrue. As soon as I get the okay, I slump back in my chair and close my eyes.

I can’t believe I’m taking even more time off work thanks to another stalker situation. It’s like I just can’t catch a break. Tension fills my entire body, and I feel so stupid .

But I think I’d let Michael in again. I think that if he showed up at my door, I’d forgive him – after getting an explanation, of course.

It’s impossible to deny how safe he makes me feel.

And even more impossible to pretend that I’m not worried about spending the night alone now that I know what it feels like to have someone here with me.

What I need right now is some relaxation. It’s the only way I’m going to be able to function. If I don’t find a way to make the muscles in my body release some of their tension, I’m doomed to spend the rest of my evening sitting in this chair, frozen by fear.

With a sigh, I push myself to my feet. Despite being alone in my house, I find myself looking over my shoulder as I make my way to my bedroom.

It’s ridiculous, and I shouldn’t be scared like this.

This area has practically no crime rate, that was one of the main reasons I moved here.

Michael has been nothing but kind to me, even if he was spying on me.

Besides, I made it clear to him that we weren’t breaking up, that I just needed a little time to myself, so it’s not like he’s going to get mad and retaliate somehow.

I know I have nothing to worry about from Michael or anyone.

New houses just feel a little creepy before you move into them, everyone knows that.

It’s the old paranoia, I tell myself as I slip out of my clothes and into my robe.

I haven’t had time to heal from what happened with Tyler.

This situation has just brought that fear back to the surface.

No one’s going to come into my house and try to kidnap me.

I’m safe here, much safer than I was in the city.

With that in mind, the words I ’ m safe playing as a constant reminder in my brain, I make my way to the bathroom.

One of the things that drew me to this house was the giant, clawfoot tub.

My place in the city was spacious enough, but whoever designed the apartment prioritized living space at the expense of the bathroom.

Don’t get me wrong, the walk-in shower was nice, but nothing compares to soaking in a spacious tub.

As I turn on the tap, I take solace in the fact that once I’m finished here, I’ll feel better about this whole thing.

Already, I can envision the weight disappearing from my shoulders.

Maybe I’ll figure out a solution to these complicated feelings I’m having about Michael while the water takes my fear away.

I reach into my robe pocket and groan when I realize that I left my cell phone in the bedroom. I guess that it’s a good thing, though. At least I won’t be spending my entire relaxation time obsessively checking my cameras. This will be good for me.

Just as the thought passes my mind, I hear something outside. My heart rate spikes, but I force myself to take deep breaths. This is just my paranoia. It’s just my neighbors doing something outside. There isn’t anyone here.

Ignoring the sound that I probably imagined anyway, I go about preparing my bath. I have a box of bath bombs, bubble bath, and bath salts tucked away under my vanity. Bending down to fish it out, I keep one ear open for any other suspicious noises.

When I pick out the supplies, I decide that I had to have imagined that noise. I’m still so fragile from finding out that Michael was watching me that I’m making things up. I just need to clear my mind and I’ll stop being so jumpy.

At least, that’s what I tell myself as I turn the water off. But now, without the sound of the tap running, there’s definitely some rustling happening outside. It’s probably just an animal though, right?

With shaky hands, I try to remove the packaging from the bath bomb I selected. I can’t seem to get a good grip on it, and my nails just slide uselessly over the plastic. I’m still struggling with it when something makes me drop it.

No, not something. A crash. A loud, horrible banging noise that sounds like it’s right outside my house. When it happens again, I realize that the banging isn’t just happening outside – it’s happening to my front door.

I curse myself for forgetting my phone in my bedroom. I never forget my phone. And now, it sounds like someone’s trying to break in and I have no way of checking the cameras or calling for help.

I have to make a quick decision. If I stay where I am, whoever’s trying to break in will find me here. I have to leave the bathroom and get my phone and find somewhere to hide. I have to do whatever it takes to stop myself from becoming a victim.

Darting out of the bathroom, I nearly trip over my feet. I have to stop and take a moment to steady myself. It turns out to be the wrong move, because at that moment, my front door bursts open.

I feel like I’m glued to the floor. My body won’t move no matter how hard I try. I’m stuck, helpless to do anything but stand here and wait for the intruder to find me.

After a few seconds, I manage to force myself to take a step backwards. It’s too late, though. I’ve barely moved an inch, and now I’m standing face to face with the intruder. And, when I realize who it is, any hope of running fades away – I’m lucky to maintain consciousness.

“Did you really think you could run away from me, Ella?”

Tyler, my old stalker, the man who made me afraid to leave my house, stands there with a satisfied expression on his face and knife dangling from his right hand.