Chapter Twenty-Five
It was hard to wake up on Monday morning, one of the reasons being that Jason had slept over, and it was almost impossible to drag myself out of the warm cocoon we had made ourselves. It was the first time he had slept over, and I had forgotten how safe and content I felt waking up in his arms. It was doubly hard getting out of bed this morning because Jason would be out of town for a few days for work.
I checked the time and saw it was already almost nine o’clock. I poked Jason in the shoulder. “Hey, don’t you have to get up? It’s already nine o’clock. You said you needed to be on the road by nine-thirty.”
Jason groaned and tightened his arm around me, pulling me closer. “Not yet. Five more minutes.”
It was tempting to melt into his embrace, but instead I pulled away and sat up. Jason made a sound of protest and squinted at me. His hair was adorably tousled, and he still looked half-asleep.
“You said you needed to stop at home to pack,” I said firmly, deciding to be the responsible one this morning. “Come on. I’ll make you some breakfast before you go.”
Despite his protests, Jason got up willingly. I made him a quick breakfast of eggs and toast, with piping hot coffee.
“You make the best coffee,” Jason said approvingly, taking a sip. “I’m going to have to start coming over every morning for it.”
I laughed, doubtful at his appreciation. Jason had a habit of declaring everything I made the best. Either he was biased or his tastebuds were malfunctioning.
“We’ll see,” I said, taking a sip of my own coffee before digging into my own breakfast.
“I wish I didn’t have to travel,” Jason said, sighing. HIs expression brightened. “Do you want to come with me? It’s only a three hour drive away. There’s supposed to be a lot of antique shops in the neighboring town. You could explore while I’m in meetings and we could have dinner together at night.”
My heart dropped at his suggestion. Jason was usually good at remembering that I never left the house, but every now and then he would forget. I didn’t blame him. It wasn’t normal to always be holed up at home.
His expression suddenly shifted, and he looked regretful. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”
I shook my head. I didn’t want him feeling bad about it. And I definitely didn’t want to talk about me not leaving the house, even though I knew at a certain point, it would be an unavoidable discussion. I didn’t know how long this relationship could sustain itself with my inability to leave the house. I had been trying to think about possible solutions, and tried to give consideration to the idea of doing online counseling to help myself. But just the thought of taking the first step of trying to cure my agoraphobia made my heart race.
“It’s okay,” I said, forcing a smile. I made a show of checking the time. “Not to kick you out, but you should really head out now if you want to stay on schedule.”
After Jason left, but not before giving me multiple kisses, and promising to call me later, I closed the door behind him with a sigh. He would only be gone until Thursday, but it already felt empty without him.
Fortunately, I was on a new project at work and it kept me busy for most of the day. Jason called as I was heating up a frozen dinner, and we talked for a while. It felt good to hear his voice, and I fell asleep that night still missing him, but feeling content after talking to him.
I woke up the next day feeling positive, and I was again busy with work. Jason had said he would call again at night, so I had that to look forward to as the day progressed. I worked until after dinnertime, and was relieved when I finally logged out for the day. I wasn’t hungry, but I could hear Jason’s voice admonishing me to eat something. I knew Jason wouldn’t call me until later, because he had a work dinner tonight. I popped a frozen dinner in the microwave, and then went to get my mail.
The microwave beeped to signal time was up as I was shuffling through my mail. It was mostly bills and junk, but my blood ran cold when I saw an envelope with no return address. I had almost been able to forget about the letters I had received since I hadn’t gotten one in a while, but as I stared at the letter in my shaking hand, I had no doubt it was from the same person.
Trembling, I opened the envelope, and took a deep breath before I unfolded the letter inside.
You’re disgusting. Do you think you deserve a happy life after what you’ve done? You’re a whore who opens her legs to anyone. I wonder what your friend and boytoy would think if they knew you were a murderer. But maybe you’ll be dead before they ever find out.
I felt nauseous and I was sure I was going to throw up. I clutched the letter in my hand and leaned against the kitchen counter. My heart was beating rapidly and there was a buzzing in my ears. I was being watched. There was no way I wasn’t being watched with what the letter said. I was being watched and judged by someone who somehow knew what I had done to Keith.
I quickly grabbed my phone sitting on the counter next to me, just to make sure I hadn’t missed anyone at my door today. I knew I wouldn’t find anyone besides the mailman, since the letter had been postmarked and not dropped into my mailbox, but I needed to check anyway. I was right. No one had approached my door except for the mailman. I grabbed the envelope and saw that it had again been sent from my zip code. Of course it had been, because whoever had sent it was watching me.
I felt frozen in fear. My first instinct was to call Jason, but he was three hours away. What could he do? Besides, how could I tell him without revealing the truth?
I told myself to calm down and took a few deep breaths. I was always careful about making sure every window, as well as the front and back door, was always locked.
I usually kept all the curtains closed, but my heart dropped when I saw the curtains in the living room had been parted. Jason had probably done so to get some sunlight in, but this was probably how the person who sent the letter had seen everything. I was sure they had seen Jason and I have sex by what the letter said. I hadn’t noticed the curtains being open since I was too wrapped up in what we were doing, but anyone looking through the window could see plain as day what was happening inside.
Instead of just being nauseous this time, I ran to the bathroom and threw up. I felt violated and scared. I had avoided the outside world because of my overwhelming fear, but now I felt unsafe in my own house.
I leaned on the sink and rinsed out my mouth and washed my hands, closing my eyes and trying to take deep breaths to slow my beating heart. I needed to think clearly, and not let fear overtake me. I needed to decide what to do.
Suddenly, I heard a soft thud that sounded like it came from above me. A chill went up my spine, and I froze. Blood rushed through my ears, and I gripped the side of the sink tightly, trying to anchor myself to reality. Maybe I was overreacting. Maybe something had fallen over upstairs. I knew that was probably unlikely, but my brain was scrambling to think of a logical reason for the sound.
Before I could think of any more possible explanations, I heard a creak and the sound of something lightly dragging across the floor. There was no way the house was just making sounds. Someone was upstairs. My mind immediately went to the letter writer. They had clearly threatened an impending death for me. Were they here to see it through?
I had to get out of here, before whoever it was realized I knew someone was in the house. As quietly as possible, I made my way out of the bathroom and into the hallway. I was afraid to breathe, afraid to make any noise to alert them I was on the move. It was dark in the hallway, and I was glad for the cloak of darkness to hide me. But the lights in the kitchen and living room were on, and if they came downstairs while I was trying to leave, there would be no hiding.
I hesitated on the brink of stepping into the living room and into the light. I so badly wanted to turn off the lights to hide myself, but I knew it was a stupid move and could possibly alert whoever was upstairs.
I steadied my nerves and crept forward. My heart felt like it was going to burst from my chest and I was sure that the pounding could be heard from outside my body. I tried to breathe shallowly, inching towards the kitchen. I had to make it into the kitchen, where the back door was located. That was my best bet. If I tried to make it to the front door, they would see me right away if they came downstairs.
I could feel myself trembling as I made it to the kitchen. I gripped the countertop, and then continued to walk quietly and cautiously to the back door. I thanked God that I had gotten used to going out to the backyard with Jason, and I knew I could exit with no problem. The real test would be whether I would be able to make it outside my fence, outside the perimeter of my house. I would deal with it when I actually got to that point.
The cold metal of the doorknob was a welcome feeling as I gripped it. I had to make it out of this house and out of the backyard. I couldn’t face whoever was upstairs. My life depended on it.
I opened the door as slowly as possible. The backdoor always made a slight creak when it opened, and my heart was in my throat at the sound. But there was no rushing of footsteps to signal that it had been heard. The outside air hit me. It was mid-June but the night air was cool and a welcome feeling. I was thankful that none of the lights in the backyard were on. Whoever was upstairs wouldn’t see me creeping through my yard. Assuming they were still upstairs. I shuddered at the thought of them downstairs, close to me, and I instinctively glanced back. I was relieved to see an empty kitchen behind me. I quietly closed the back door, relieved that it only creaked when it was opened, and not closed. I wanted as many barriers in between us as possible
I quickened my pace in the backyard, since the grass muffled my footsteps. Once I made it to the fence door, I grabbed the latch to unlock it. But instead of feeling relief that I was about to escape, my heart started hammering even faster in terror. My head was telling me to leave, to open the latch and let myself out. But my body wouldn’t cooperate. My feet felt glued to the ground and my hands wouldn’t move. Wouldn’t make the motions necessary to unlatch the door and open it.
I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. I had to do this. I was strong enough to do this.
Open the damn door , I said to myself internally. Open the door and walk out. This is not the time to be scared and weak. Open the door!
My hand was trembling, but it slowly followed my command. I unlatched the door and slowly swung it open. I told my body to take a step forward. I had come this far, and I could do it.
I raised one foot and took a step across the boundary of my yard. Before I could take another step, the world pivoted and it felt like I was in a bottle being tipped over. I fell to the ground, feeling dizzy and unbalanced, like the world was tilting on its axis.
I propped my hands on the ground, feeling the cold grass press against my palms. I was so tired of being weak and fearful. I couldn’t even escape when I was in danger. What was wrong with me? How had fear debilitated me so much?
I pressed my eyes shut and forced myself to take deep breaths. I wanted to cry out of frustration, but I tried to calm myself. Hating myself in this moment would do nothing to help me.
I opened my eyes and told myself to stand up. I gripped the grass, grounding myself in reality, and then slowly stood, holding the side of the fence to help prop myself up. Before I could move any further, I heard the creak of the backdoor opening behind me.
Adrenaline rushed through me, and I stumbled through the fence door, afraid to look behind me. I felt like I was being chased by a monster, but as fast as I wanted to run, my feet felt like they were in cement blocks. My body was still fighting me, but my fear propelled me clumsily forward. I could swear that I heard footsteps behind me, but I didn’t want to waste a second to look back.
I had made it past my front lawn and to the sidewalk when I tripped, my knees painfully smashing against the pavement. I swallowed a cry of pain and scrambled to get up, but my limbs were getting tangled. I knew they were right behind me. Any moment, I would feel someone grab me and drag me back.
I jumped at the sound of a bark, and suddenly my view was obstructed by fur. A golden retriever’s gentle face was right in front of me. My eyes followed the dog’s leash to the concerned face of a man standing on the sidewalk.
“Are you okay?” the man asked, looking worried. I looked behind me, and just saw my house. Nobody was in pursuit of me. Whoever it was, was gone.
The golden retriever sniffed in my direction, and then licked my face. I burst into tears and hugged the dog, crying into his fur. A mixture of relief and sorrow went through me. I was okay now, but what about next time?