Page 29 of Sour Lollipops and Sweet Nightmares (The Society #1)

Georgia

I t had been hours since Issac stormed off, and my hand would not stop trembling. It wasn’t much, just a subtle, persistent tremble that made my fingers stiff and achy, like when I was a kid and hung off the monkey bars until my arms burned.

I tried everything to get rid of it. Shaking it out, stretching my fingers, and cracking my knuckles, yet the tension wouldn’t leave. Neither would the stammer in my heart. My pulse kept skipping as if it couldn’t decide whether I was safe or not.

Was I safe?

My eyes wandered around the room, scanning the patchwork quilt draped over my bed to the picture of Mom on my nightstand, and Gran’s housecoat hanging on the wall next to the bathroom door.

All the comforts I needed to feel at home, yet I felt alone and watched. Like a rat in a maze. But was I alone?

“Gigi, are you there?”

“Yeah, Mom, I’m here,” I said into the phone while searching the shadowed corners of the room. Everything seemed normal.

“Honey, are you okay? You seem a bit distracted.”

“I’m fine,” I sighed. “Just a bit shaken up.”

“I’m sure you are. Witnessing a fight like that would be terrifying to anyone.”

It was more than that. I went to a public high school in a rough part of town.

Seeing a full-on smackdown fight was nothing new.

Boys had this weird thing with violence.

They could beat someone up so bad they put them in the hospital, then be best friends with that same person the next day.

Not that the new relationship would prevent anything.

Guys seemed to like punching their friends just as much as their enemies.

I didn’t understand the male species. Then again, I didn’t understand women either, especially when it came to the girl world. None of the so-called rules made sense. Why couldn’t I go to the bathroom alone? How would hearing each other pee make Rachel and me better friends?

“Did you know the boys?”

“No.” I lied.

She didn’t need to know about Issac and his friends. Mom wasn’t a worrier or anxious like me. She was overprotective. In grade two, I had a bully. Chad Dickerson was constantly pulling my hair and picking on me until Mom cornered him in the playground.

I don’t know what she said to him, but he wouldn’t even look my way after that. The last thing I wanted her to do was show up here and confront Issac. I didn’t want her anywhere near that man. If I believed in heaven and hell, then Issac would be the antichrist.

“That’s good,” Mom said. “You should stay away from guys like that.”

That was the ironic statement of the year. I was more than happy to avoid well… everyone. Yet people kept talking to me and showing up. Then there was Issac, who probably sat up at night thinking of ways to torment me. So, why did I help him?

Out of everything that happened today, it was that moment that kept rolling through my mind.

Issac was clearly a psychopath, yet when I saw the blood running down his arm, my first instinct was to grab the first aid kit.

I could still feel Issac staring down at me as the tweezers clicked in my hand.

I was terrified of setting him off. Here was a man who had already assaulted me. What if I breathed or moved in the wrong way? It was a serious concern, one I hadn't considered at the time.

When one of Mom’s boyfriends got a little too physical, she hit him on the head with a cast-iron frying pan, locked him out of the apartment, and called the cops. But not me. No. I had to help Issac. Apparently, self-preservation skipped a generation.

Rachel didn’t understand my actions either. That was made quite clear in the twenty-minute lecture she gave me after Ravi left. Not that I could blame her. I liked to think of myself as an intelligent person. Maybe I was wrong.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Gigi?”

Was I okay? I honestly didn’t know anymore. “I’m fine, Mom.”

The upside of being a solitary individual was that I didn’t have to worry about what other people thought or said. The downside was that the one person I did spend time with knew when I was lying.

“Uh-huh,” Mom muttered. “Then why did it take you so long to call me back?”

“I don’t know, I got busy and forgot.” It wouldn’t be the first time I forgot to call her back.

“Honey, I love you, but don’t lie to me.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re overthinking it.”

“Then why did it sound like you were having a panic attack when you called earlier?”

That was easy. I was having a panic attack.

At that point, I was scared and wanted to go home.

If Ravi hadn’t shown up, then I’d probably be halfway there already.

Things were different now. I was still scared, but I was also determined not to let Issac win.

Emotion got the best of me before. That wouldn’t happen again. I would not be scared away.

“Gigi?”

Knowing she wouldn’t let it go until I gave her some kind of explanation, I said, “It was a rough day, that’s all.”

“Georgia…”

“I’m fine, Mom.” I cut her off before she could go into some lecture, which was the only time she called me Georgia.

“Alright.” Mom sighed. “But I’d feel better if you had a car.”

So would I. “Give the insurance company some time. It’s only been a week.”

That is, if they even paid out. The mysterious engine fire that totaled my car was under investigation. And insurance company investigations were never quick. Therefore, I would be without a vehicle for some time.

“Look, I know you said no, but…”

“You are not buying me a car.” She worked too hard at a thankless job for her money. I was not going to dip into the small nest egg she managed to save for herself. “I’m perfectly capable of taking the bus if I need to go somewhere.”

“You need something, Gigi,” she argued. “What if you get lonely and want to come home for the weekend?”

That was Mom code for I miss you. She wanted me to come for the weekend.

“I worry about you up there all alone.”

Not this again. “I’m not alone, Mom. I have a friend.”

“You made a friend? Honey, that’s fantastic,” she exclaimed as if it were the greatest thing in the world.

I rolled my eyes. Did she have to sound so happy about it? I guess I should’ve seen that coming.

“Yes, Mom,” I sighed. “I have a friend. Her name is Rachel, and she’s very annoying. You would like her.”

She really would. Rachel and my mother had similar personalities. They were both happy extroverts who put way too much thought into their appearance. Although I did see a different side of Rachel today.

She was mad at me, and not because of her dislike for anyone. It was something else. The way she looked at Ravi was closer to panic than fear, as if she were more afraid of what he could do than she was of him.

“Gigi, you have no idea how many times I prayed for this.”

“God had nothing to do with it, Mother, trust me.”

There was no divine being answering the prayers of the righteous.

And if there was, he sure as hell wasn’t who sent Rachel my way.

However, I was starting to wonder who had sent her my way.

Her story about ‘checking on me’ wasn’t so believable anymore.

I might just be being paranoid, but I’d rather be safe than sorry.

“Be as cynical as you want, Gigi, but I will never stop praying for you.”

Okay, but could she stop calling me Gigi? I hated that nickname, and she was the only one who called me that.

“The good Lord will watch over you whether you believe he’s there or not.”

“Uh-huh.” I was not getting into the religion versus logic debate with her again. “You can keep your good Lord mother. I don’t need another stalker.”

“What do you mean, another stalker?”

I froze. Shit.

“I just mean that I have enough attention, what with Kash and Issac. I don’t need another man watching over me.” Awkwardness wasn’t my only problem. I also overexplained things when I got nervous.

“Who are Kash and Issac?”

Well, there was only one thing to do now.

“It was great talking to you, Mom, but I have an early class tomorrow and it’s already… seven o’clock,” I said while looking down at my watch.

“Wait, Gigi…”

“Sorry, Mom. Gotta go. Gotta get that sleep in,” I sang into the phone and hung up before she could ask me anything.

After which I let out a breath. That was close. I knew she wouldn’t let it go, but that was a problem for another day. Right now, I just wanted to put this horrible day behind me, and that was precisely what I decided to do.

I dropped my phone on the nightstand and headed into the bathroom to have a nice, relaxing shower.

The shower didn’t help.

I stood under the stream with my arms braced against the tile, while water sprayed down my back and my muscles remained just as tense as they were before I got in. My mind kept spiraling back to the glint in Issac’s eyes as he stared down at me.

It wasn’t anger. It was something else. Something feral and almost hungry, as though he wanted to take a bite out of my neck and lap up the blood. Ravi might’ve been the one he hit, but I was the one he wanted to hurt.

Why me? What had I done to him that was so bad?

I shook my head and shut the water off. It didn’t matter why. Issac would never tell me his reasons, if he even had any.

Stepping out onto the plush bathmat, I wrapped a towel around myself, then froze.

Written in the condensation on the mirror were the words, Go Home .

For a second, I thought my paranoia was messing with me, and I tried to blink the letters away. But they were still there. Long, languid letters that cut through the moisture.

I stood there, clutching the towel to my chest like armor, as droplets slid down the mirror, distorting the letters as if they were bleeding. My heart slammed against my ribs while my eyes jumped around the room searching for signs that someone was here.

There was nothing else—just the two words.

Go Home.

The door was locked. There was no way anyone could get in, right?

I turned and ran, barefoot and dripping, into the bedroom.

There was no one in the closet or under the bed. I even yanked open my dressers drawer like a crazy person, expecting monsters to hide between socks and sweatshirts. After that, I searched the living room and kitchen.

There was nothing. Not even a footprint. I had locked both doors, and all the windows were closed. There was no way anyone could have gotten in. I was alone. Or I should be. The air felt wrong.

My eyes slid over to the steam billowing out from the bathroom door.

Go home.

Did I imagine it? Or was someone watching me?