Chapter 5
Greer
PAST
Waking up is surreal, like I’m in someone else’s life. There’s a burning ache in my stomach. Anxiety is blazing a hole through its lining as I roll onto my side and stare out over the expanse of my bedroom.
Everything is still and silent. It’s one of my favorite moments of the day. There’s a peaceful stillness the morning brings that’s unmatched. Nothing else compares. But I now find guilt and heaviness in the solace of morning. I can’t escape my mind in the silence I once loved.
Grabbing my remote, I sit on my bed and click on the television, moving through the early morning news channels. I’m searching. Scanning for any mention of the man I killed last night—the one I left for dead in the middle of the road like nothing more than roadkill.
Nothing.
Not one mention.
It bothers me even more. What if no one’s found him, and he’s still lying there, lifeless?
I gag and rush for my connected bathroom, barely making it before I dry heave into the toilet.
There’s nothing left to vomit. I was too sick all night.
My phone rings from my nightstand, and I sniff back tears as I let it go to voicemail. It’s probably Allison; she’s the only one who would call this early.
Thinking she might have found something when I’ve been unsuccessful, I get off the cold tile and grip the sink before looking at myself in the mirror. I pad over and sit on the edge of the bed, grabbing my phone to call her back.
It rings again in my hand. She’s worried.
“Hello,” I say shakily, picking up her call.
“Are you alright?”
My face pulls into disgust. “No, I’m not alright?! How can you even ask that?”
She sighs heavily. “I’m sorry, G. I just wanted to check on you. I haven’t found a thing about the man. I’ve even called local hospitals. Maybe we didn’t kill him.”
“Or maybe he’s still lying there. Or maybe his family hasn’t been notified yet to break the story. Or maybe—”
“I get it. You can stop now.”
I seal my lips after a shaky exhale escapes.
“We’ll keep an eye out, yeah? Until we hear or see something, we operate like normal.” Her plan sounds great, in theory.
But my anxiety only ramps up at the thought of ignoring that I killed someone.
The man’s lifeless face flashes in my mind, and my stomach coils in protest. I don’t have anything left to vomit, so I close my lids and breathe through the nausea.
“Greer?”
“I’m here. I’m sorry. I can’t do this right now.” Hanging up, I toss the phone across the bed and scan the television for any scrap of information.
To no avail.
It’s been two years since the night of the accident, and I’m still no better off than I was the morning after it. I’m settled into school and have work to keep me busy, but my mind often wanders about the man. About how I shouldn’t be here.
“Your food isn’t good?” Jason asks me, pausing to eat from his plate. “I can get someone to take it back. You can order something else.” He raises his hand to wave down our server, and I grab it and put it back onto the table.
“It’s fine. I was just lost in thought. I don’t eat much,” I tell him.
Jason nods. “Oh, that’s all right. I want you to be happy.”
I smile, and it seems to appease his dominant side, which is idiotic right now. I return to shoving food around my plate, grateful I avoided the conflict.
Jason is the product of another setup Allison forced me to attend, and he’s not hard on the eyes. A couple of times, I’ve thought longingly about letting him satisfy the deep ache in my belly for more.
I never let them have more.
I don’t deserve it.
They don’t deserve to be tied to a monster, either.
What if, one day, Jason finds out who I truly am? That he’s sleeping next to a murderer?
I can’t take that risk.
I don’t know why Allison suggests these dates, but here I am; it makes her so happy when I go.
The night drags on, and I allow Jason to kiss me. For a moment, however fleeting, I consider letting him come home with me to my apartment near campus. Letting him stoke the fire that his kiss started in my gut, but guilt washes away the idea, and I tell him goodnight.
I’ll never speak to Jason again.
Sitting in my car in the small Italian restaurant’s parking lot, I watch him drive away through tear-flooded eyes, wishing like hell my life would’ve taken another path, and I wasn’t a killer.
Then, I could be happy.
Then I could have a Jason.
Now
Thinking of Jason only makes me grateful he’s not on the list of men connected to me who are now dead.
Part of me feels so shitty for their deaths because while I’m an interesting character to go on a date with, I know I don’t deserve the love or comfort they offered.
So, I never spoke to them beyond the nights I met with them.
Thinking about Brent, I genuinely hope my blocking his number and never speaking to him were enough for my stalker to realize he’s not a threat.
Envisioning his eyes wide open and his body lifeless and cut to bits sends my stomach churning, and I race for my bathroom, nearly losing every bit of soup Allison coaxed me to eat last night.
She stayed over, which was shocking because she hates acknowledging there’s anything beyond the city limits. She doesn’t like the reminder that she stayed in Georgia because then she’d have to face why she did.
“Alright, I’m headed to work. You going to be alright?” Allison asks, popping into the bathroom, where I’m leaning over the sink, trying to breathe through the swells of nausea battering my stomach.
“I’m alright. Thank you for staying.”
“Let me know when you’re ready to go to the police. We can’t let this psycho have this much control of your life, G. And none of this is your damned fault, nor do you deserve it, so get that out of your head right now.”
I grin, realizing how well she knows me, even if I disagree that I don’t deserve it.
“Have a good day.” I hug her tight, inhaling her Chanel perfume before pulling her back by her shoulders and giving her a once-over. “You have Bear hair all over you.”
She shrugs with a rueful smile. “I let him sleep in the bed with me. He was relentless about snuggling. He’s the only man who loves me right.”
I laugh, and it sounds foreign to my ears.
I hear Allison pull away as I finish getting ready for work. I grab my water bottle, a protein bar, and a speckled banana to eat on the way in and head out the door, locking it behind me as Bear watches enviously.
Guilt washes through me as I realize I haven’t taken him to the dog park in weeks, not since the notes started appearing more frequently and starting to turn up inside the house.
Once in the car, with all my stuff in the passenger seat, I give my house one more longing look as I realize every bit of my illusion of safety truly is shattered. It used to be my haven, the place I hated to leave.
Now, I long to be in the presence of others, where I feel safe.
I notice something on my bedroom window, tilting my head and squinting as if it’ll zoom the image.
It’s a handprint.
There’s no note attached that I can see from here, and I’m not going any closer to finding out, but I dial the local P.D., instantly hopeful whoever this is got sloppy and left behind a full print for them to work with.
I shoot a text to Melody that I’m going to be late, to which she picks on me about staying out too late, like I do to her each time she’s running behind in the morning.
Little does she know, I’m running behind because my entire life is falling apart, all because ten years ago, I didn’t stop and wasn’t fast enough to outrun karma.
An hour later, Officer George is finishing up his report, and I’m chewing on the outside of my finger, now red and puffy from my mutilation. They keep sending the same officer; that can’t be a coincidence. Is he the only one in the area or the only one willing to take the call?
“I got the full handprint lifted. I can’t believe he left it behind. Whoever it is, is very cocky,” he tells me.
I notice that this time, there’s no exasperation in his tone. He believes me.
It has my stomach uncoiling a fraction. “Do you think you’ll be able to identify who it is with that?”
“As long as he’s in the nationwide database, we will be.”
A person like this must have been arrested for something at some point, so I nod before thanking him for his time and effort.
It eats at me that I don’t tell the officer that I suspect this man is killing the men I’m dating, but I don’t want to be the one he pins for everything. He only just started to believe me.
Though part of me knows I deserve to have Officer George throw the fucking book at me for what I did ten years ago, so that it would be my just desserts.
When I get on the road to work, I’m more confident now that whoever this is will be found out because of their sloppy move to stake a claim over me, which is what Officer George thought the handprint was all about. They were claiming me as theirs.
My phone goes off with a text chime, and I realize I never told Melody I was on my way to work. She’s probably worried.
Who am I kidding? She’s probably kicked back, reading on her Kindle.
I grab it, breaking my hands on the wheel, eyes on the road rules, just this once.
They can’t help you. No one can.
My hands are shaking as the next text comes through.
You’re mine. The sooner you realize that, the better.
Tossing my phone back on top of my bag, I stare ahead, my mind racing as I speed to work.
Part of me decides it would be better to let this person have me.
To let whoever it is chop me up and display me for my sins, but the saner part of my brain argues that if this is the Nightstalker, he’s a far more fucked-up individual than I am, and I don’t deserve his particular brand of punishment.
For a fleeting moment, I consider texting back. I’ve never tried to initiate contact from my end, but there was never a way to do so before. I immediately toss the idea away. It’s harebrained and reckless.
Even so, my stomach tightens, and my heart races the more I consider it. In theory, whatever this obsession he has with me will only deepen if I give him attention. Not that I’ve ever been on the radar of a serial killer before.
Fuck, what has my life become?
When I get to work, I stare up at the building that offers me a day of solace to keep my brain busy and off everything happening and sigh.
Then I remember I have another meeting with Penny today, so the Nightstalker that’s haunting me outside the library walls will haunt me within as well.
I take a deep breath, grab my stuff, and head inside, hearing another text chime, knowing it’s him.
Have a great day, poison. I’ll be watching.