Chapter 12
TWELVE
KAT
The library lights are low as the evening wears on, most people having left hours ago. Clearly having much better things to do than I.
My back aches as I straighten out, searching for relief from the discomfort of hours of barely moving.
There’s a little over half an hour until closing, and I’ve been the victim of more than a few pointed looks from the university librarian. My assignment isn’t anywhere near done, so I’ll have to come back tomorrow.
I pack up and head out into the cold, pulling out my phone and ordering Chinese food to arrive at the flat just after me.
The campus is pretty quiet; it’s not late enough for the student bar to have kicked out, but too late for anyone to be returning from classes.
The occasional student crosses the square, face lit by the glow of their phone as they stare at it while walking.
A skill I’ve never quite nailed. I only just managed to place my order while walking at a snail’s pace.
Anything beyond that would have me stepping headfirst into a lamppost. The coffee shop is dark and shuttered, the art shop similarly deserted.
I’ve taken to walking the long way home after the notes, and with the boy from my past reappearing. Not that it helps when he knows where I live. Still, staying in the light gives me at least a tiny bit of reassurance. Avoid the back alleys, keep to the busier streets with the lights.
There’s been no more notes in the past few days, and no sign of the heart-eyed man, but I can’t shake that feeling of being watched. It crawls over my skin no matter where I am.
I’m nearly home when the feeling intensifies.
Glancing behind me, I see a slender man with his hood up a few metres behind me. Too far to identify if he’s someone I know, with the way his hood shades his face from the light.
He’s probably just using the same street.
I quicken my pace. So does he. My stomach tightens as his footsteps pound the floor behind me.
You’re just being paranoid.
The night feels icier; it’s chill tightening around my fingers. They ache as I take my keys from my coat pocket, placing them between my fingers with the points sticking out like little knives.
I want to turn and stand my ground, to demand he pull down his hood and tell me who he is. But I have no idea who he actually is, or whether he’s even following me.
It’s not like the city doesn’t have its share of weirdos outside, note-sending ghosts from my past.
Get to a safe space.
Make noise if he grabs you.
Don’t let him take you to a second location.
The safety advice thrums through my head with every step. I’m close to home now. Just need to get to the alley and get into the flat.
He’s closer now. The footsteps behind me have my pulse thumping. I’m considering running when someone steps out of a shadowy side street up ahead.
Tall.
Dark.
Masked.
I stop dead, my breath clouding between us as I stare up at the two hearts.
He’s not looking at me, though. His focus is set over my head at the man behind me. I step behind Heart Eyes and turn, feeling the rage rolling off him in palpable waves.
‘Run home.’ His voice is tight, and the demand in it raises my pulse in an unexpected way. I put it down to adrenaline.
The man’s frozen up ahead, his face still shadowed from view. Silence stretches between the three of us until it breaks, with the follower turning and taking off the way he came.
Heart Eyes turns to me for a second, his voice a deep growl as he says, ‘Go home, Kat. Now.’
I can’t argue, as he’s off running, chasing after the wiry guy who was clearly following me. The note maker, perhaps? I sure as hell hope so, otherwise I’m collecting stalkers like they’re fucking Pokemon.
My breath is tight until I make it back to my flat, locking the door behind me and wishing Ellie was home. We’re like ships in the night, with her working evenings until late, and my studying through the afternoons and well into the evening.
I check the lock twice before pulling my curtains tight across each window and shutting the doors leading to the central living space.
Tucked up onto the sofa, losing myself amongst the cushions, I finally, for a moment, feel safe.
The police station is four minutes from the flat. I checked after the first note, weighing up whether to go to them. Realistically, what would they do? Dredge up the past and make me face it? Or more than likely, put the note down as a childish prank and tell me to come back when things get worse.
Like when I’m good and dead, then they’d look into it.
I’m still on the couch, even though it’s nearly two hours since I got home. I’ve made a tea, and let it go cold, my stomach flip-flopping every time I try to take a sip. The problem is, things are escalating. What did the man following me want?
YOU’RE NEXT
Nothing good.
I pick up my phone and unlock the keypad. I should call 999. Or the non-emergency line, I suppose, being that Heart Eyes has scared the fucker off for now.
Or I could walk the four minutes to the station, sit across from an officer, and try to explain.
“ My name is Katherine Elliot, and I’ve been receiving threatening notes, and I need your help.
I’ve thought about it often enough. When I was eight years old, I saw a man abusing his son. And others. He was going to hurt me…
God no. I know where that story ends.
There would be so many questions. With answers that don’t end well for me.
There would be an investigation, which would lead them to talk to my parents.
They’d never let me live it down. Especially not when it hits the papers.
If there’s one thing my parents hate more than failure, it’s public failure.
Dare I besmirch their family name, they’d blow a fuse.
My brain keeps spiralling, imagining the crime podcasts.
The comments sections. The retaliation. Fuck no.
And the boy. Or man, now, I guess.
They’d find him, and everything he’s gone through, and pull it all out in the open. Treat his life like a circus act there to satiate their bloodlust. Their longing for regurgitated pain.
I set the phone down and look around my cosy flat. At the life I’ve escaped to for a few years, before I have to go back to the gilded cage I come from. My fingers settle on the stone heart resting against my chest. I could leave it all tonight for safety. Go back home to my parents’ house.
But if this guy knows about the past, then he’ll know where my parents live. It might delay whatever he’s doing, but it won’t necessarily end it.
Running isn’t an option.
So it’s the police, or putting my trust in the heart-eyed man watching over me.
At least one doesn’t want to wait for escalation before acting.
Hell, he might even have caught the guy by now.
Entangling myself with this obsessed ghost from my past isn’t a sensible option.
I should go to the police and beg for their help, then settle down with a guy like Darren, instead of dreaming about a man whose face I don’t even know.
Someone sensible and steady without a past.
Someone who would never count the minutes since he last saw me.
Fourteen years, one month, two weeks, three days, fifteen hours and thirty-three minutes.
How can anyone compete with that? The small dark-haired boy with bruised knees and nothing to give, holding out the heart-shaped treasure he’d found without a second thought.
God, it’s no wonder I’ve kept a part of my soul for him all these years.
How could anyone match up to this boy I’d idolised at eight?
Even when I received the notes I’d assumed were from him, I’d never fully believed he could have sent them. Not him.
I don’t know who he is as an adult, but I know the bones of him beneath whomever he’s become.
I may not know his name, nor his face, but I know that he’s good.
Under whatever he’s gone through, he cares enough to protect a woman he barely knows.
The way he’s gone about reintroducing himself to me is unhinged, but I can’t help but want him never to stop.
It’s insane, but when he’s near me, even if it’s creeping outside my window, I’m glad that he’s there.
He makes me feel safe. And knowing my darkest secret, he still wants to be near me.
Darren wouldn’t. I’m not even sure Ellie would.
Going to my room, I climb across the bed and open the curtain just enough to peek through.
He’s there, not looking at the window, but minding the alley for me.
Those pink hearts stand out in the dark, a sight that soothes me instead of striking fear into me.
I consider going out to talk to him, but the adrenaline spike has dipped, leaving me feeling hollow, tiredness weighing me down into the comfort of my bed,
I don’t know who’s more unhinged, him for being out there, or me for liking it.
Yawning, I snuggle into my pillow, keeping an eye on him until sleep gathers around me, knowing no one will harm me while he’s there.