Page 7 of Peripheral Vision (Tethered in Darkness Duet #1)

Chapter

Four

DYLAN

I stayed in the bath long after the water had turned cold.

I like to tell myself it was because I was completely immersed in the book I was reading, but the truth is I couldn’t focus long enough to read a single page, let alone a few words at a time.

The situation with whoever is stalking me occupied my headspace.

It’s the fact that they had not only watched me buy the dress, but waited long enough to break into my truck and then my home.

My home. Just the thought that they had been inside my safe space is enough to roil my gut.

That they had possibly looked through my bedroom, my clothes.

It’s safe enough to say they had at least been in my closet with the pair of heels that had been placed at the foot of my bed.

I spent so long focusing on any noise that I’m pretty sure my mind started warping any sound I did hear into what I wanted it to be.

The foundation creaking became a heavy footstep standing on the wrong board in the hall.

A whistle of the wind outside became the faintest of breaths as the predator hunted for its prey.

The AC kicking on was someone trying to get in the front door.

There had been no shortage to my imagination as I thought about staying in the imaginary safety of my tub, cold be damned.

But soon enough sleep had started to take over my eyelids, and making the decision that I didn’t want to drown in my sleep, I heaved myself and my aching foot from frigid water.

Now I lie in my bed, staring at the ceiling as I have so many other nights recently.

Alaska is lying on her spot on the floor.

Why is it that when you do the right thing and try to go to sleep when exhaustion takes over, as soon as you lay down in the place meant to do it, it evades you?

The universe has a cruel sense of humor.

That, and it doesn’t help that my mind is plagued with invented images of the macabre state my father’s body could be in.

I had wanted to do an open casket viewing before his burial ceremony, but I was given just enough information to change my mind.

Even if I think I want to know, I probably don’t.

Tossing and turning, I try to will a serene nothingness into the cavity of my conscience but sleep still refuses me.

Taunting me like my stalker. Creeping in just enough to stay coveted but never caught.

I pick up my cell phone and the clock reads just after midnight.

“Well, Alaska,” I say, getting out of bed.

“Now is as good a time as any, I suppose. Let’s see what’s for rent.

” I could get my enrollment forms in for in-person classes, but there would be no point unless I have a place close by or on campus to stay at.

Since I’m not a freshman, I’d prefer to stay off campus.

I power my laptop on where it sits on my desk before I run downstairs to get a glass of water.

When I return, I flick on the lamp and start searching.

My budget isn’t great, especially since I don’t have a job, but I have what I need at the very least for both the normal and pet deposit.

Ideally, I should be able to get a job easily enough on campus to be able to make rent.

The rest of the retirement benefits I’ll get until I turn twenty-three will help make ends meet at least.

I look at several dingy apartment complexes, condos, and houses where other tenants have a room for rent before settling on a small two-bedroom, one bathroom house that is no bigger than the downstairs of my current place.

But considering I don’t want roommates and it’s only Alaska and I, I don’t need a lot of space to begin with.

The extra room will be nice though, in case Thea and Lucas want to come visit.

It also backs up to a thick wood that goes on for miles and miles which means I won’t have to deal with a ton of neighbors or people on trail systems, since it isn’t an outdoor recreation area.

Alaska is going to love it. The house overall is in need of some updates but looks like it’s in good shape overall.

It’s bungalow style, a little over one thousand square feet, with a one car garage.

It sits at the end of a dead-end street in a cul-de-sac.

Some of the white paint is chipping on the outside, but the grounds themselves are pretty.

The grass is well-maintained with a variety of different bushes and trees lining the front yard.

The back, which bumps up to the woods, is also well-maintained and there is a patio that leads off of the small kitchen to the side of the house and large storage shed.

As for the interior, the living room has an exposed brick wall and what looks like actual hardwood flooring that has been brought back to its original glory.

The walls are painted white and there is a lot of natural light that flows in through the window next to the front door, as well as from the sliding glass door that leads to the patio—there’s a small space meant for a dining table but not much else.

Down the hallway leads you to the one full bathroom and both bedrooms. The master bedroom is at the back of the house closest to the woods. It even has washer and dryer hookups.

“What else could two girls need, eh, Alaska?” I look at where she’s gone back to sleep at my feet. “Must be something to need some rest from all of your rest.”

I quickly submit my application and cross my fingers that my lack of work history won’t come back to bite me in the ass.

I could always use my circumstances to my advantage, but something about that makes me feel gross.

I don’t like profiting off of people’s pity.

I should also probably look at a few other places just to have a backup plan, but something tells me that there weren’t a lot of people looking at this property to begin with.

Even off campus, most university students I’ve observed prefer to live as lavishly as they can and in the company of their friends and significant others.

They also prefer to live closer to the bars to make it easier to get home.

Although maybe that isn’t a fair assumption to make since I’ve never been a part of, well, any group.

I can name on one hand the amount of friends I’ve had in my lifetime. But I’ve heard enough stories.

This is one of those moments where I truly wish I could bring Thea with me, knowing that I’m going to have to integrate with people I don’t know and not having anybody with me to do it.

I know people’s names through the online courses I take, so it shouldn’t truly be all that difficult, should it?

I’m not entirely introverted, but I can’t say I’m looking forward to it too much with all of the sudden changes taking place in my life.

Having a familiar face around would at least resolve the daily anxiety I’ve been experiencing.

Leaning back in my chair, I let loose a sigh and rub my eyes.

Checking the time again, I’ve at least killed another hour.

Maybe now that I’ve taken care of some subconscious stress, I’ll be able to get proper shuteye.

I shut my laptop, take a long sip of water, and return to bed.

Just as I’m about to get under the covers though, for the second time in twenty-four hours, the feeling of eyes trained on me makes my skin pebble.

Which makes me positively horrified now that I know I do indeed have someone watching me.

I had reopened my windows to let a breeze in and left the blinds open, and now it has me itching to reach for the gun that I had placed on my sideboard.

But instead, I take a deep breath and slowly step out of bed, approaching my window with an innocence my father would be ashamed of.

He certainly raised me with the erudition to be considerate of every action and reaction I take; but his absence, more permanent now than it has ever been, has slowly been unraveling every bit of rationality I possess.

I make sure to turn the lamp on my desk back on, to outline my silhouette in the window, before I actually approach it.

Despite the darkness, I’m able to see across the street due to the lampposts that are stationed along the sidewalk.

I scan the area, straining to see behind vehicles, plants, and other nooks, but to my disappointment I don’t spot anyone.

The only thing I do notice is a vehicle that I’ve never seen before, parked opposite my house.

Obviously, I know it could belong to anyone; it could be a neighbor's visitor, or maybe one of my neighbors even got a new vehicle. A lack of temporary tags doesn’t mean anything.

And yet, something is telling me to go outside and get a closer look.

Grabbing my gun off the nightstand and pulling on a pair of pants that I had wadded up in the corner, I tuck the weapon into the small of my back and throw on a light jacket over my thin tank top.

“I’ll be right back,” I say to Alaska. She doesn’t even lift her head to see me off.

The closer I get to the front door, the more erratically my heart beats and I can’t help but turn on every light as I go.

If something happens to me, I’m sure as hell not going to go quietly.

I’ll make sure those lights are a beacon.

Listening for a moment, I unlock the front door, turning on the front light too, as I step out and shut it again.

Checking my surroundings as I cross the street, I find nothing out of the ordinary.

Nothing except for this car, that is. I’m aware that anybody could see me and that looking into a vehicle isn’t exactly inconspicuous, but…