SIX
The moment my ticket is inspected, I’m allowed inside.
It takes a lot of inner battling not to cower away from this inevitable situation and run back to the apartment. Being in a crowded space with so many people makes my skin crawl. My palms are sweaty, and I try my best not to ruin the expensive dress on me.
Turns out, it was a good idea to bring all of Arlo’s gifts from Long Grove.
Wren was annoyed that she lost the invitation but didn’t question me too much. Instead, she helped me dye my roots that have grown out a lot, gave my hair a nice trim, and helped pick a dress from the couple I have stashed away.
The dress is floor-length, dragging a little behind me. It has long sleeves, with small diamonds neatly on the hem of the sleeves and around the neckline. It’s tight, with the bottom part being a bit flowy and wider than the rest of the dress. The only reason I’m wearing this one is that I couldn’t be bothered with heels. If anyone recognizes me, I’ll need to make a run for it, and having heels on would become a problem.
Wren styled my hair into some loose waves and pulled it into a high ponytail, leaving a few face-framing strands to fall over my cheeks. The makeup is light and not uncomfortable. What makes me really uncomfortable is this event as a whole.
But this is where I need to be.
For my sanity.
Now that Arlo has revealed himself through the letter, I know that he’ll be here. I know that I’ll meet him before the night comes to an end, and my anxiety starts spiking up again. My eyes roam all across the expensive, lavish venue while I hide in a darker corner with a glass of juice.
People are talking, laughing, and mingling together, and it’s very evident I don’t belong here. Everyone is in groups, and a few people did look at me suspiciously while walking past me, though no one has addressed me so far.
I take a deep breath, then make my way to the bar to get a refill of my juice. Alcohol isn’t my thing. I tried whiskey and wine, and the ones that I did try didn’t make me feel good. Hence, I don’t drink at all. I prefer to keep my mind clear at all times.
While waiting for the refill, my thoughts drift back to the name Arlo, repeating in my head.
Even if he were to appear and stand next to me, I have no way of knowing it’s him. I have absolutely nothing to go on, except trying to trust my gut instinct. No eye color, no hair color, height, or anything that could even remotely tell me who he is.
The man whose face is the source of all the monsters that roam freely inside my head is nowhere to be seen yet. I’ll never be able to forget the terrifying brown eyes, the monstrous look in his eyes while he took what he wanted from me.
I take a quick glance at the wristwatch on my hand. Another gift from Arlo. It was Wren’s idea to wear it because it fits well with the dress. She doesn’t know it was gifted to me by my stalker; otherwise, she might not be too keen on me wearing it.
For one, it’s the only pretty watch I own that is good enough for an event like this. And secondly, if I catch someone staring at the watch for a little too long, it could very well be Arlo. He knows I never wear or use things he’s sent me, and wearing it might provoke a reaction.
It’s been an hour and a half since I’ve arrived, and I’m getting impatient.
It’s getting difficult to breathe. The ventilation is good, but it’s suffocating being in the same room as all of these people. If he is here and friendly with these men, I can only assume they’re alike.
I sip on the drink and pause abruptly when I hear the sound of the piano.
It fills my ears and almost causes me to drop the glass. I put it on the bar, slowly turning around. My throat tightens a little, noticing the small podium across the room. The lighting in the room dims, with a reflector shining above the pianist.
It’s one of the pieces that Arlo has sent me.
A wave of chills spreads down my body, my mouth feeling too dry all of a sudden. The tune sends short, sharp shocks of violence, yet it’s the most serene and harmonious sound I’ve ever heard. Never in a million years did I imagine I’d get to listen in person to Arlo playing.
The melody is for me.
It captivates me entirely. Goosebumps prickle my skin, and I’m unable to tear my eyes off his back, the way his fingers glide over the keys skillfully, the way he’s putting all of himself into the performance.
Arlo knows that I’m here, and he’s playing for me. He’s not afraid of showing it, either.
His hair is white, pearly white. My brows crease, and a breath gets lodged in my throat as a distant memory resurfaces in my mind. The man on the bus back in Long Grove.
It was Arlo all along?
By the time I’m done processing everything, the music stops. The man stands from the chair, turns around, and bows. And then, his eyes fell on me.
The intensity in his eyes makes me take a small step back. Even from afar, I can see his shoulders go rigid, his body tensing up, hands clenching by his sides as he tries to maintain a smile on his face.
A round of applause echoes in the room, and the reflector shifts from him to the stairs on the right. I no longer see him, but I just know it won’t be the last time we lock eyes for the night.
Forcefully, I tear my eyes away from him and turn my attention to the stairs.
I freeze immediately, fear hugging me and wrapping around my entire being, slowly starting to break me. I can’t look away from the man on top of the stairs, his eyes scanning the room, a big smile on his face. He taps the microphone, grabbing everyone’s attention.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,”
he greets. “I’m very grateful so many of you have come tonight to support me. Tomorrow, a new era will begin. Tonight, we are all celebrating the new beginning!”
People cheer loudly, a round of applause echoing in the room. He pauses speaking, waiting for the people to quiet down.
“The support I’ve received is overwhelming. I’m hoping to show you just how worthy of the support I am in the months to come. Now, enjoy yourselves.”
Another round of applause ensues, people murmuring and whispering in excitement. Loud noise fills my ears, and I can’t block it. All of me is screaming for me to move, to run after him, and to use the gun that is tucked on the inside of my thigh. He is right there.
I remain frozen in place, the fear gripping me tightly.
He turns on his heel, walking up the flight of stairs with a much younger woman on his arm. She’s younger than me, and her body trembles as he puts his hand on her lower back. She smiles, but I can tell it’s forced. I’ve been wearing the same smile for years. And even from a distance, the look of fear in her eyes is unmistakable.
I force my feet to move in purposeful, deliberate moves. My shoulder brushes against strangers as I walk toward him, the fear and anger in me molding together, and I’m not sure which emotion is stronger.
I’m not sure what my plan is.
The fact that I didn’t get searched at the entrance because I came as Wren is a plus, but now, the weight of the gun holstered on my thigh doesn’t matter much. My heart is beating rapidly against my ribcage as I move through the crowd, looking for a way to get to him.
The man who just gave the speech isn’t the same man who continuously assaulted me throughout the years. No, he just tagged along and watched. That was something he got off on. He’d sit in the corner, jerk off while his friend violated me in the worst ways possible.
Don’t do it, Blair.
I don’t listen. I know it’s a bad idea, at least on some level. I know that I lack the skills to kill him; I know that I lack the strength to overpower him. Even if I somehow manage to land a killing bullet, I’ll be sent right back to prison in a blink of an eye.
The surroundings fade away, and I pick up the pace. Emotions get the best of me, and I can’t prevent myself from doing something utterly foolish. I don’t pay attention to where I’m going or if anyone is noticing my odd behavior.
Until I collide with someone’s chest, that is.
I stumble backward a little, but a pair of arms catches me before I can fall. One hand grabs my arm, the other one holding my waist in place.
“No, Blair,”
a deep voice echoes in my ears. “I can’t let you put yourself in danger.”
A scent of whiskey and cinnamon hits my nose, preventing me from moving. His hand is still on my waist, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over the dress.
My eyes flicker upward, and I just receive another shock of my life.
It’s the pianist.
My stalker, Arlo.
But I already know this man.
“You,”
I breathe out, whispering. “Has it been you the whole time?”
He grins, flashing me a pearly smile. He has a tooth gem on his canine, and it shines under the dimmed light of the venue. His bright, gray eyes bore into mine, filled with something I can’t quite put my finger on.
“Yes,”
he responds, voice lowering. “It’s me, butterfly.”
He’s vastly different than I remember. His hair used to be dark, almost midnight black. His eyes were a different color, too, and he didn’t have the tooth gem on his canine. He’s taller, his shoulders are wider, and he’s much more muscular, too. And for the first time, he’s wearing a suit.
“Why?”
Emotions overwhelm me. His lips start moving, but the words don’t reach my ears. In fact, all I can focus on is the darkness that starts to surround me.