Chapter 6
SIX
KAT
By the time my afternoon lecture lets out, my head is throbbing like the professor squashed my brain through a mincer.
Good god, there has to be more to life than this nonsense.
If I have to go into work with my father and do this forever, they may as well just bury me now and cut out the years of boredom.
The corridor fills with the same stream of people as ever, all in their own worlds, all likely far more excited about their futures than I am.
I’m halfway down the stairwell when that familiar, unsettling feeling washes over me.
I spin, trying to locate someone staring at me.
Prickles steal up my spine as I stare from one face to another, before settling on a dark spot at the bottom of the stairs, past the ground floor level and to the depths below.
There’s no physical sign of someone being there, but that one spot in the dark snags me.
Rubbing my eyes, I stare again.
Nothing. It’s nothing, Kat. Your imagination is playing tricks on you.
Ever since the note, I’ve been in an almost hyper-vigilant state while out and about. Only feeling safe when I’m in the flat with the door locked behind me. What if the note writer is serious? If someone is following me, and it’s not a one-off prank?
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and while I’m fishing it out, someone bumps into me from behind, knocking me right out of my focus on the dark space below.
‘Sorry,’ a voice says.
‘It’s fine.’ I reply instantly, politeness driven into me from a young age, despite feeling like I want to nudge the person right back. Looking up, I smile. It’s the barista guy who gives me an awkward nod before disappearing into the surge of students with barely a glance.
Rude. If Ellie had been here, I bet she’d have had a grovelling apology.
The message on my phone buzzes again, to grab my attention.
Darren’s name is blazing across the screen.
Of course.
You get home okay last night?
I sigh. A fat lot of use it is checking the next day.
For all he knows, I could be lying in a ditch somewhere.
Not that I could wholly blame him. I’d gone to the hotel with the intention of having my insides rearranged until I couldn’t tell my brain from my uterus.
It hadn’t gone unnoticed that I’d left Darren with blue balls and a motel room bill while I went home and sorted myself out with my vibrator instead.
He’s not a bad guy, really. Maybe Ellie’s right, and it’s time to give him a proper chance. Let him into my room for once.
Darren’s sweet enough, and can make me come almost every session, which is better than a lot of guys. I could do worse.
But I’ve still got a boy-shaped hole in my heart.
I don’t reply. I will at some point, but Darren is in a long line of stuff that can be dealt with later. As I walk down a handful more steps, I catch my professor’s assistant, Greg, staring at me from a supply cupboard, his eyes narrowing as I meet them.
A chill runs over me when he lurches toward me, following me down the corridor. I dodge through the students, pretending I’m unaware of his closeness to me. It’s not until I spill out onto the concourse that I notice he’s gone.
Can you report a guy for being a general creep? Probably not.
By the time I reach home, I’ve worked myself into a mess. Batting back and forth between thinking I’m paranoid and being utterly delusional.
Until I reach into my bag for my keys.
Stiff paper meets my fingertips.
The same crisp, slightly textured paper stock as the note.
My stomach sinks before I’ve pulled it into view. Breath feels out of reach as I turn it over in my hand, to reveal two words scratched in red ink.
You’ll pay.
I rock in the alleyway, leaning heavily on the red brick. The words feel so heavy in my fingers while my vision narrows to nothing but them.
You’ll pay.
No.
It doesn’t make sense. The only place I’ve been is to university. Ellie was with me all morning, and she would have seen if someone had touched my bag while we were getting coffee. And other than that, I’d only been to class.
Greg’s face swims in my head. Could he be the boy? There’s no way. Surely? I’d tested him with the frog story.
Maybe he grew up to be a good liar. You know nothing about him.
A good liar who wants to hurt me…
Whoever he was, he was close enough to me to put that note in my bag.
Close enough to hurt me. I shove the note deep into my bag and grab the keys in shaking fingers, forcing open my door and locking it behind me. My chest tightens as I slide to the floor, dropping my bag like it’s made from barbed wire.
My hand drifts up to the stone at my throat, fingers settling around it. It’s always been a comfort, but what if it’s marked me out as a target? As something he recognised me by.
A shadow of movement catches my eye in the kitchen. A dark figure. Or a figment of my imagination?
I stand and creep further into the room, trying to locate the movement I thought I’d seen. But the kitchen is empty, and so are the bedrooms. Both mine and Ellie’s. Even the bathroom is deserted when I throw open the door, half expecting the phantom of my past to be there.
It had to be nothing.
A trick of the light.
Silence sifts through the flat, nothing but the scent of lemon cleaning spray is with me. No shadows. No stalker. No grown-up phantom.
I pull my phone from my pocket and scroll to Ellie’s name. The urge to call her and blurt out everything burns in my throat, but beneath it lies something darker.
Heavier.
If I tell her, I’ll have to explain everything.
About that summer and him.
About what I saw and what I did.
And that isn’t something I can do…