27. You’ll never know what hit you…
27
You’ll never know what hit you…
Moth
W e woke up the next morning, and a chill had settled in the air.
It’s like Kansas had gotten the hint that late summer was out and fall had officially started. Amelia and I had both fallen asleep in the guest room, huddled under the blanket and cuddled together for warmth. Before bed, we’d thrown a sweater over the camera at Amelia’s insistence, and I couldn’t blame her.
Why was I okay with him watching me sleep?
It never shocked or bothered me the way it probably should have.
I lay there for a long time, staring up at the ceiling and thinking until Amelia stirred beside me, turning toward me.
“I forgot to tell you,” she said, her voice husky with sleep and her lips turning up in a smile. “I have a date tonight.”
My eyes widened as I looked at her.
“Really? ”
She nodded, the blanket balled in her fists, and pulled up to her chin to protect herself from the cold.
“Yeah, I’m going somewhere called ‘The Doghouse’ with Carl?”
I chuckled, rolling my eyes.
“It’s a bar, but it’s the closest we have to entertainment in Cottonwood Falls.”
She shrugged.
“I kinda don’t care. It’s a small town bar but like…” she trailed off, and I could hear the uncertainty in her voice. “I like him.”
My mouth dropped open, and my breath caught behind an immovable wall in my throat.
“Oh my god ,” I gasped, barely able to get the words out. “Amelia, really?! That’s awesome!”
She squealed, pulling the blanket up over her head and kicking her feet like a giddy teenage girl. I could feel the embarrassment rushing off of her in waves.
“Anyway,” she said after a minute, coming out from under the blanket. She sat up, jerking her head toward me for me to follow. I did, and when I sat up, she leaned into me, her lips against my ear.
“Does the camera have audio?” she whispered.
I shrugged.
“I dunno, why?” I whispered back.
“I have an idea.”
She cleared her throat.
“Anyway, I want you to come with me,” she said.
“No way, I can’t do that. I don’t wanna be a third wheel. I want you to have fun.”
“Please?! ”
“No! Amelia, it’ll be awkward.”
“It will be fun , I promise. And it’s not a third wheel if we’re all hanging out together.”
“But what am I going to do there? Just sit and watch you drink?”
Amelia thought for a moment, then a mischievous smile spread across her face.
“You’ll see.”
Later that night, we arrived at the Doghouse, a dimly lit bar with a pool table and a jukebox in the corner. Amelia had insisted on dressing me in a black-and-white checkered corset top with matching earrings, a tight black faux leather skirt, fishnets, and short black boots, adorned with chains and spikes. She helped me take my hair down and style it and did my makeup.
I looked… nice. I couldn’t even lie.
Carl was already there, sitting at a booth with a group of his friends. Amelia confidently led me through the crowd, her arm around my waist, and mine around hers. I couldn’t help but feel a bit out of place.
This wasn’t a place for me, especially not dressed like this.
We joined Carl and his friends at the booth, and as soon as we sat down, one of Carl’s friends, a tall, rugged-looking cowboy who introduced himself as ‘Stephen’ pulled out a chair for me and helped me sit, putting his hand on my back to guide me in. It was a simple gesture, but it sent a shiver racing up my spine just the same. I had a feeling it wasn’t just the cold air that made me shiver.
The night went on, and before long, I was happy I’d come out. We played pool, laughed, and danced. I was surprised at how much fun I was having, and I couldn’t help but notice that Amelia and Carl were drawn to each other, affectionately exchanging glances and playful touches.
“They’re cute together,” Stephen said, leaning back in his chair.
He had deep, soulful brown eyes and a warm smile. The faint scent of leather and hay clung to him, a combination of his cowboy lifestyle and the bar we were in, adding to his rugged charm. Although his smile was warm and friendly, his eyes held a certain intensity, like he was feeling more deeply than he let on.
“They are,” I agreed, smiling back at him. “I never would have imagined the two of them would hit it off. It’s so weird!”
He chuckled, nodding.
“Sometimes opposites attract.”
“That’s true.”
I glanced across the room to where Amelia and Carl were dancing together, lost in each other’s eyes.
I was so happy for her. Maybe this would turn into a long-term thing. Wouldn’t that be adorable?
“You know,” Stephen said, grounding me back to reality. “I’ve always thought that wearing something like that would be uncomfortable.” He gestured to my outfit. “Is it?”
I laughed.
“Well, if I wear it for too long, sure.”
“Well, if you needed any help getting out of it,” he said, leaning in closer. “I’d be happy to lend a hand.”
A hard, heavy ball of emotions dropped into my gullet, and I fought to swallow it down.
“You don’t have to, thanks,” I replied coyly, trying to mask my nervousness.
He smirked, giving me a charming look that told me he wasn’t backing down.
Smooth, Vanessa. Real smooth.
“Alright, alright. I was teasing,” he said, shaking his head. He leaned back, shrugging.
In my purse, my phone dinged, and absent-mindedly, I picked it up and flicked it on.
Once again, it was my little black heart.
If he touches you, I’ll kill him.
I blinked at the message, suddenly very aware of my surroundings and Stephen’s gaze. He was still leaning back in his chair, a hint of amusement in his eyes as he studied me.
I hadn’t heard Amelia saunter up behind me, and I jumped when I felt her lean over the back of my chair, threading her hands around my neck and resting her chin on my shoulder.
“Go with it,” she whispered in my ear, and I gave her a single, barely perceptible nod.
Amelia leaned over, her hand up to shield her lips as she whispered something to Stephen. He pulled back, nodding at her, and then turned to me and offered me his hand.
“Come on, let’s dance,” he said .
My heart stammered in my chest, but I couldn’t resist the magnetic pull of his outstretched hand. It was like stepping into a hidden realm, where the rhythm of the music melded with the rhythm of our bodies and everything else fell away.
Colorful lights from above illuminated the dimly lit dance floor filled with swirling couples. Sweat, perfume, and a faint aroma of alcohol permeated the air.
We danced to an old country song, Stephen leading the way, his strong arms wrapping around me as we moved together. I could feel the heat of his body press against mine, and the scent of leather and hay that I noticed earlier only seemed to grow stronger, wrapping around me like a blanket, but rather than the warmth that I’d felt last night in the tower, now I felt too hot—suffocated.
As we danced, I couldn’t help but notice that Amelia and Carl had vanished into the crowd.
With every chance I got, I searched around me, looking into every corner and every dark shadow.
He was here. I knew he was here.
He was watching me, but where?
“You’re so beautiful,” Stephen breathed into my ear, and I shuddered at the sound. It felt wrong. I hated it. “Let me take you home.”
Amelia’s words from earlier echoed in my mind, and I nodded before I even had a chance to think.
“Alright,” I said finally.
Stephen led me out of the crowded dance floor, away from the pulsating, neon-lit world. The air felt thick with secrets and anticipation .
Stephen’s grip tightened around me as I followed him out of the bar and into the chilly night air. The shadows seemed to grow darker and more foreboding, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched.
He led me towards a deep red pickup, its polished chrome gleaming beneath the glow of overhead streetlights. It was so tall he had to help me up, his hand slipping dangerously close to my ass, and he helped boost me inside.
I let out a hesitant sigh and allowed him to close the door behind me. As I buckled my seatbelt, my thoughts raced. Was this really happening? Was I in danger, or was I just being paranoid? He cranked up the old truck, and we were off into the night.
The landscape transformed from low, black buildings and miles of sprawling blacktop into rolling hills and sparse farmland. The occasional farmhouse illuminated in the distance and cornfields stretched as far as the eye could see.
As we drove, Stephen periodically glanced over at me, his deep brown eyes burning into my soul. I tried to hide my unease, but the gnawing feeling in my gut grew stronger by the minute.
When we hit Lake Street, I opened my mouth to speak up, but he whipped the wheel to the right, and we took off in the opposite direction.
“W-wait,” I whispered, my voice low and mousey. “My house was… back there.”
An overwhelming sense of danger settled into the pit of my stomach. This was a bad, bad mistake. I shouldn’t have done this.
As we drove off into the night, I could feel the city fading behind us, and the empty darkness ahead of us. Stephen drove with an almost predatory calm, and I could feel his eyes on me the entire time. I was hyper-aware of every sound, every noise, every shadow that flickered past outside the truck window.
This was wrong.
This was bad. So bad.
My stalker had never made me feel like this. This was a whole new kind of fear.
I glanced out the window, watching the darkness stretch before us, thick and impenetrable. It felt like we were driving further and further away from everything, deeper into the unknown.
“Where are we going?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. It was a struggle, but I had to stay calm and keep a grip on my fear.
Stephen didn’t answer at first, just kept driving. He seemed to be in his own world, the corners of his mouth turned up in a half-smile as if he found my fear amusing.
Gently, he eased the truck to the side of the road and reached down, flipping off the engine, his arm draped casually across the open window as he looked over at me, his brown eyes somehow darker than they had ever been.
Almost black.
I glanced around, my eyes widening as they took in the desolate landscape. We were in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by cornfields and darkness. I should’ve known that this was a mistake.
He’s going to hurt me , a voice in my brain whispered. Get out. Now. Start running .
“What are you doing?” I whispered, my heart pounding like a wild beast in my chest. I felt trapped, cornered, vulnerable. I couldn’t move, even as my brain screamed at me to run.
He leaned towards me, one hand falling across my thigh and the other coming around to grasp the back of my neck, pulling me toward him. His fingers dug painfully into the scruff of my neck, and I could smell alcohol and tobacco on his breath as his lips crashed into mine.
“Wait!” I gasped, fighting to pull away from him. “Don’t! Stop it!”
His grip tightened around me and he pulled me in closer, our bodies pressed together in the dark. I could feel the heat of his breath on my face, and the smell of his cologne and the acrid hint of his anger filled my nostrils.
I gagged at the taste of stale alcohol and bitter cigarettes.
I struggled to pull free, but he was too strong.
“Let me go!” I screamed, but my words were lost in the wind that swept through the open window.
He finally released me, but only to grab me once more, his hand gripping my wrists, pinning them together above my head. He forced me against the passenger’s side window, holding me there so hard that it hurt, and when I twisted my wrists, fighting to pull away, they jerked painfully, and I whimpered.
“You think you can tease me like a whore and not get what’s comin’ to ya?” he asked, his free hand coming around to slap me hard across the face, until my skin burned hot and I tasted blood in my mouth.
“Fuck you!” I screamed, and he slapped me again .
I gathered the blood that lay on my tongue and shot forward, launching a ball of saliva and gore smack dab into the middle of his face.
He hit me again, hard on the side of the head. This time, I saw stars dancing in and out of the darkness that pulsed at the corners of my vision.
I blinked, hard, fighting away the pull of unconsciousness, when a movement from the shadows caught my eye. Behind him, I saw a figure materialize out of the cornstalks, stalking toward the truck, something long and glinting clutched in their hand.
I knew those wide shoulders. I recognized that same black ski mask. The same one I’d seen on the stairs that night.
I could hear the sound of crickets and the rustling of leaves, but now it all seemed so distant and unimportant. My heart was pounding like a war drum, and all I could do was watch as my stalker approached. When he stepped up to the side of the truck, the moonlight caught on what he held in his hands, and as he tore the door of the truck open, and ripped Stephen out of the cab, I realized what he held—a bat.
With a savage roar, my savior raised the bat high over his head and swung it with a force that shattered the silence of the night. The first blow landed hard on Stephen’s right knee, and he crumpled to the ground, an ear-piercing scream echoing on the dark, empty road.
He swung again, this time drilling the bat into his ribs, and I heard them snap with a sickening crack that echoed around me, over and over again .
“Stop it!” I screamed, my breath tearing in and out of my lungs. “Stop! You’re gonna kill him!”
He dropped the bat, stepping over it as he dropped to his knees, looming over Stephen, gasping and groaning in pain in the tufted grass. His gloved hand twisted in the front of his flannel shirt and pulled him up, staring into his eyes with an intensity that I’d only seen between predator and prey.
He pulled back his fist, and I forced myself to look away, bile and fear twisting and writhing inside of me.
I heard him connect—once, twice, again.
And again.
I heard another stomach-churning crack, and when Stephen screamed again, it was garbled and full of pain.
I cowered in the corner of the seat, my trembling hands coming up to press into my ears, and the world around me fell to silence.
This was my fault.
It was my fault.
I caused this.
I caused all of this.
Tears flooded from my eyes, laying salted lines down my face as I fought to pull in a breath, my chest tight and aching. The next thing I knew, I felt the slamming of the door and the vibration of the engine roaring to life. Shaking, I pulled my hands down from my ears and dropped them into my lap.
Just like I knew he would be, my stalker sat behind the wheel, anger flaring in his eyes as he looked over at me, slamming the truck into drive and pulling onto the road. He wore the same brown leather jacket he always did, the moth tattoo on his hand standing out across his skin as his shaking fist gripped the wheel. I could see blood splattered across the back of his knuckles, melding with the ink.
“I’m taking you home,” he sneered. “You need to go upstairs and take a shower. Wash his filth off of you.”
I sat in stunned silence, staring at him as he whipped the truck around, and headed back the way we came, the engine roaring like a beast in the night.
“I told you what would happen, Vanessa,” he said simply.
“You killed him?” I asked, my voice shaking.
“No,” he said simply. “He was breathing. I checked.”
“He could die!”
“He touched you!” His shout echoed through the enclosed cab and I jumped. “He’s lucky I didn’t kill him, but when he wakes up, he might wish I did.”
I watched him as he drove, the streetlights and shadows whipping past his window.
I could catch him off guard. I could reach over and snatch the mask off his head and I could know who he was, right here and right now.
But I didn’t.
Something inside of me wouldn’t let me move. Something in my brain held me captive more than he ever had, and I shook the thought away, turning to look out the window instead.
I sat that way until we pulled into the driveway, and he didn’t say a word. When he stopped beside Amelia’s quiet Escalade, my shaking fingers fell to the door handle and pulled it up. I stumbled out of the truck, hitting the ground with a yelp before I got to my shaking legs and walked up the front porch steps.
When I turned to look behind me, all I saw were the beaming headlights of the truck as he backed away, and I squinted against them until they retreated onto the gravel road and roared out of sight. Turning away, I shoved the front door open, my heart pounding and my head swimming with emotions.
He’d warned me. He warned me what would happen, but I did it anyway, and once again, it had gotten me nowhere.
We were no closer to finding out who he was, and that guy was hurt—maybe even dead—because of me.
I floated through the house on shaking legs, dropping my purse at the top of the stairs. I was numb as I stumbled down the hallway, my hand fumbling with the knob as I threw open my dad’s bedroom door. I collapsed onto the bed and reached over to his bedside table, picking up his radio. It was an old, black, dusty thing, and I wasn’t even sure it still worked.
What was I doing? I wasn’t even sure.
I flipped it on and held it in my lap, hunched forward as I waited.
What was I waiting for? Anything? Any sign of life?
I sat that way for so long that my eyelids began to sag, and I flopped back, laying across the bed and staring up at the ceiling as sleep threatened to take me. I could smell the scent of my dad’s old cologne, like peppermint and black pepper, and the dryer sheets my mom used to use.
I missed her.
God, I missed her.
I wonder what she would say to me right now .
Would she be disappointed? Would she hold me, telling me everything was okay like Amelia had?
My eyes were so heavy. I couldn’t keep them open.
Maybe I could just close them, just for a few minutes?
As soon as I drifted into darkness, the radio in my hands sparked to life.
“Hey, Carla?”
I jumped hard, the radio slipping from my hands and dropping with a soft thump to the carpeted floor. It was Sheriff Banner’s voice, and he sounded tired.
Maybe disappointed?
“Yeah?” Carla answered after a moment, her voice crackling.
“I’m bringin’ someone in. Leave the back door open for me, will ya?”
I could hear her sigh over the radio.
“Drunk?”
“Nah,” he paused. “Ya know the assault they picked up over on Route 50? We found his truck.”
Carla was quiet for a long moment.
“Alright,” she said finally. “I’ll be out back waitin’ on ya.”
“Thanks, Carla. I just know he’s done a lot of good for this town, and I don’t think Tommy deserves to have his reputation destroyed.”
My hand flew to my mouth, and my eyes suddenly opened wide and unblinking. I couldn’t draw a breath, no matter how hard I tried.
My chest heaved with each breath I couldn’t seem to take, my heart slamming against my sternum so hard that it felt like it might implode. Tears raced down my face, slipping into my hairline as I stared up at the ceiling, my eyes fixed on a crack in the plaster as I tried to process what I had just heard.
I forced myself to sit up, the weight of realization pressing down on me so hard that I felt like I was being crushed beneath it.
“Tommy?” I whispered, staring down at the radio.
That couldn’t be true.
Tommy was a hero. He saved me.
No.
I shook my head, hard, fighting with myself as I stumbled to my feet.
No, Tommy was my stalker.