Page 64 of Run For Me (Until You’re Mine Duet #1)

Chapter Sixty-Four

Sailor

I’m so tired my vision is blurry and I have a pounding headache.

I’m far beyond the point of falling asleep.

My nerves are shot, and paranoia is setting in.

I’ve gone two nights without sleeping. Last night I nodded off a few times, only to jerk awake at the smallest sound.

The first time it was a car driving by. The second was an owl.

I have the constant feeling of being watched.

I’m on edge, worried that Jaxon is going to show up, not just at my house but in my house.

He’s fully capable of that, and I’m not sure what’s stopping him.

He’s fucking with me, just waiting for me to let my guard down so he can get me when I’m vulnerable.

I should sleep, even if it’s during the day and for a little while.

I’m not at my best when I’m tired, but what else can I do?

I can’t calm down enough to fall asleep.

All I think about is waking up with him looming over me, or him waking me up with his body on top of mine—something I used to crave.

Now, I’m terrified. Of him. Of what allowing my dark and depraved thoughts have done to my life.

And all because I was irresponsible and lost my journal.

Because I thought writing all this stuff down was a good idea.

I thought letting those parts of me out for Jaxon to see was a good idea.

I thought embracing my darkness would set me free.

Why did I think that? Because I’m an idiot, that’s why. I’m dumb and childish and I should never have done any of this.

The semester is almost done, and I was able to reach out to my teachers about finishing the rest of my classes online. They gave me zero push back, which confused me because I didn’t think it would be so simple. But they assured me the Dean would have no issue with it.

I need a break.

I can’t focus on school after all this. Thankfully my grades are good enough that I can put in half-assed effort and still get passing grades.

I need to reevaluate my life. I need a safe place to think. I’m too worried about Jaxon showing up that I’m hardly surviving. Starting school was supposed to help me move forward. It was supposed to help me come out of my shell and get out of the house. Make friends. Be an adult.

And I guess it did for a little while, but at what cost? Was it worth it?

I’m not so sure.

I stare down at my phone, waiting for a text to come in.

I’m curled up on the couch, my legs pulled to my chest, with a blanket covering me.

I can’t even go into my bed. It smells like him.

No matter how many times I wash or change the sheets, all I smell is him.

It’s like it’s burned into my mattress. I’m tempted to throw it onto the street.

When the text finally pops up, I breathe a sigh of relief and scramble off the couch.

I check that all the doors and windows are locked, grab the biggest knife I have, and head into the bathroom to shower.

I slide the chair over, tucking it under the knob.

My normal routine these last few days. Barricading myself inside whatever room I’m in with the biggest knife I own.

Every time I close my eyes to rinse my hair, I panic and think there is someone standing on the other side of the shower curtain. I’m in the shower just long enough to get clean, and then I’m shoving clothes on even though I’m still wet.

I pull the door open slowly and listen for sounds. Nothing. So I walk out, check my entire house, and when I’m confident that it’s empty, I head into my room and pack.

I fill two suitcases and a duffel bag with clothes, then shove my electronics, chargers, and toiletries into my backpack.

I leave everything by the door while I toss all the perishable food from the fridge into a trash bag.

There isn’t much, but I don’t want it rotting in here. I don’t know when I’ll be back.

I check my house one more time and then I hurriedly bring my bags to the car, cursing when I trip and almost fall flat on my face. I start it up and open the trunk to put my suitcases in, and put the bag of trash into the backseat to toss in a dumpster on the way.

Once everything is in the car, I head back inside to do one more check. I have everything I need, and if I forgot something, I’ll buy it. I check every window and every door, making sure they’re all locked.

All that’s left to do is leave.

So, I do.

The drive takes me a little under six hours. I stop a few times to rest and grab food or pee. I’m too worried about being followed to stop for long. Every time I get out of the car is another opportunity for him to find me.

When I finally see the signs for Fernlake, I breathe a sigh of relief, some of the weight lifting from my shoulders. Even the name sounds peaceful.

I can be safe here.

I will be safe here.

I pull into the lot and park in spot number 8, which I was told would be left open for me.

I look up at the apartment building as I shut the car off.

It’s big, in decent shape, and seems to have about twelve apartments, each with a balcony.

It’s a nice neighborhood. You can tell that much from just driving through.

The streets are clean, lawns manicured, and houses brightly painted. People wave as you drive by.

After looking up videos to check for tracking devices on my car and cell, I’m pretty confident there are none, but that doesn't mean he didn’t follow me here.

He could have, and I’d never know. I always felt him, but the problem is I’m so paranoid now I feel him all the time.

I always think he’s there. Maybe he is, or maybe I’m just crazy.

At least, now, here, I will be okay.

I will be.

I have to be.

I grab my stuff from the trunk, putting on my backpack and tossing the duffel up my shoulder, then grabbing both suitcases, one in either hand.

I head to the front of the building and press the button beside the number 7. It buzzes loudly.

Cars drive by, but it doesn’t seem like a very busy street.

Definitely not a main road. There are no businesses in eye view, just other apartments and cozy houses with flower beds in their windows.

I see a couple walking together, hand in hand, on the opposite side of the street.

There is a small park with a few benches, a large fountain, and some colorful bushes.

A man sits on a bench, tossing seed from a bag to feed the birds.

A dog barks, and the birds scatter. All but one pretty white dove that lingers.

The door is pulled open, catching my attention, and I turn back around.

This is a nice neighbored.

This is safe.

“I’m glad you made it.”

I smile, feeling more relieved than ever.

“Hi, Sam.”

I’ll be safe here.

I have to be.

Will Jaxon win back Sailor?