Page 13 of Don't Speak

CHAPTER TWELVE

I woke up this morning feeling hopeful. I didn’t have a single nightmare last night, and I feel optimistic about the day.

I pad out of the bedroom and start my monotonous morning routine.

I may have to work late nights, but nothing beats having the morning and most of the afternoon to yourself.

It’s the best time to just be in the moment.

With the sun shining through the window and the quiet peace of being alone, nothing compares.

I’ve just sat down on the couch to pick up my book when my doorbell rings.

Placing my coffee on the table, I get up and head toward the door.

When I look through the peephole, no one is there, so I open it and poke my head out, peering around.

Still, there’s no one. I’m just about to close the door when an envelope catches my eye.

There, on my doormat, lies a manila envelope with my name written across it.

Feeling the hairs on my body stand up straight, I peer back around.

That feeling of being watched is back again.

I snatch the envelope up and slam the door shut, bolting the locks in place again.

I place my back against the door, sliding down and hitting the cool tile of the foyer.

My heart is slamming in my chest, and I feel panic rising in my body.

Trying to prevent another panic attack, I take slow, deep breaths, trying to calm myself down.

In, two, three, out, two, three. In, two, three, out, two, three.

Once my heart rate returns to some sense of normalcy, I walk back over to the couch with the envelope in my hand.

Sitting down, I simply stare at it for a moment before working up the courage to break the seal.

I grab onto what feels like thick paper and pull it out.

Suddenly, my face pales, and I stop breathing momentarily before my heart rate picks up again.

It’s a photo of Dean and me at the bar the other night.

The photo is of us laughing behind the bar at Tommy, who was so wasted that he signed the bar top instead of his receipt while closing out.

I suddenly feel nauseous, confused about why someone would not only snap a photo of us but leave it at my door.

It can’t be Sean, can it? I don’t think I’d still be here if it were.

He would have made himself known. I place the photo down on the table, leaning back into the couch, contemplating what I should do. I should call the cops, right?

I stare at my phone on the table for a moment, reaching for it before I hesitate.

I know that is the logical decision, but I don’t really want to deal with this right now.

Thoughts run through my mind like a meteor shower.

This is the longest I’ve ever spent in one place.

I love it here. My best friend is here. My job is here. Dean is here.

I silently curse myself for that last thought.

He shouldn’t even be a factor right now.

I don’t even know him. I just know that I don’t want to have to move again.

I don’t want to have to make new friends and start over in a new city I’m not comfortable in.

Alone . Maybe if I just ignore it, it’ll go away.

Grabbing my phone, I call Amelia. I know what she’s going to tell me, but I still need to talk to someone right now. The phone rings twice before she answers.

“Hey, buddy. What’s up?”

“Can you come over right now? Something weird just happened, and I need to talk to you about it. But I think you need to see it,” I tell her, worry laced in the tone of my voice.

“Yeah, I can head over right now. Are you okay? she asks me, matching my worried tone.

“I think so, but I’m not sure.”

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” she says before hanging up the phone.

True to her word, Amelia is knocking on my door fourteen minutes later. I open the door and rush her in, slamming it closed and bolting the locks one more.

“What’s going on, Nikki? You’re worrying me,” she says, reaching out her hands and grabbing my wrists, looking me up and down, her brows furrowed in concern.

I grab her arm and rush her over to the couch, pushing her down onto it by the shoulders so that she’s now seated. I grab the manila envelope and hand it to her.

“Someone knocked on my door this morning. When I opened it, no one was there. I found this on the doorstep.”

She looks at me, confusion etched on her face. I can tell she’s hesitant to open the folder. It’s starting to feel like a scene from a movie. Turning the envelope over, she lifts the tab open and slides her hand in, pulling out the photo.

“I don’t understand. What am I looking at?” she asks.

“That’s a photo of me and Dean, the new bartender at work. The photo was taken of us from last night’s shift,” I respond.

“You mean someone took this photo of y’all and just left it on your doorstep?”

“Yes. That is what I’m telling you.”

“Okay, that is freaky shit, dude. You need to alert the cops. Someone is clearly stalking you.” Her face is full of worry, and her eyes are glossy as though she is fighting back tears. I know she knows what this would mean.

“If I tell the cops, I’ll have to run. Telling the cops makes it public. There will be police reports and probably a news story on the matter, and with Sean still on the loose, it would be like calling him with a beacon to my location,” I tell her, sadness laced in my voice.

“Yeah, but what if it IS him? Then he’s already found you, and you’re in even more danger.”

“Don’t you think I’ve thought about that? I don’t know if I’m ready to give everything up here. This has already been the fourth city I’ve settled in, scared that if I live in one place for too long, he’d find out and send someone after me from prison. I’m tired of running, Amelia.”

“Well then, what are you going to do?” she asks me, sighing, clearly in disagreement about my choice.

“I haven’t figured that out yet. But I’m working on it,” I tell her, having no actual clue what I’m going to do.

“Well, you know you could come and stay with me if you wanted to. I know you won’t though, but I worry about you alone in this house. Could you at least look into an alarm system? I’d feel better knowing there was some barrier of protection around this place.”

“Yeah. I can do that,” I say in agreement. It’s not a bad idea. “I’m off today. What are you doing for the rest of the day?” I ask.

“I am also off today. Lucifer marathon?” she asks.

“I’d thought you’d never ask,” I tell her.

Grabbing every blanket and pillow within our area, Amelia and I snuggle up on the couch, turning on the show with the hunkiest devil.

I wish every devil was as friendly and funny as this one. Unfortunately, the one I know is the exact opposite.