55. Sage
Sage
The fluorescent lights of the grocery store were blindingly bright, buzzing with a faint, electrical hum that set my already frayed nerves on edge.
It was a Saturday afternoon, and the aisles were packed with ordinary people doing ordinary things.
I should have felt safe surrounded by this many people.
But instead, the suffocating, heavy sensation that had been crawling up my spine since I found that painting on my desk, had mutated into something unbearable.
I was being watched. I could feel it.
I stopped in front of the dairy fridge, my knuckles turning white as I gripped the handle of my shopping cart. I whipped my head around, my eyes darting past a mother who was wrangling a toddler and an elderly man inspecting apples.
No one was looking at me.
I swallowed hard, the cold air from the refrigerators raising goosebumps on my bare arms. I grabbed a carton of milk without looking, tossing it into my cart, and quickly moved down the aisle. I couldn’t shake the sensation of a cold, calculated gaze burning a hole right between my shoulder blades.
“Sage? Hey!”
I physically jumped, letting out a sharp gasp as I spun around.
“Whoa, sorry!” Chloe, a girl from my advanced ceramics class, held her hands up in apology. She offered a hesitant, slightly concerned smile. “Didn’t mean to scare you. I was just going to ask if you finished the essay for Professor Vance yet.”
“Oh,” I breathed, pressing a hand to my racing heart. “Hi, Chloe. No, I… I’m still working on it.”
I glanced nervously over my shoulder again, my eyes scanning the end of the aisle. An empty shopping cart sat abandoned, sending a shadow stretching across the linoleum, but there was no one there.
“Are you okay?” Chloe asked, her smile fading as she took in my pale face and the dark circles under my eyes. “You look really pale. And you keep looking behind me.”
I forced my gaze back to her, trying to construct a normal, convincing smile. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. I just… I have a lot on my mind right now. Just exhausted, you know?”
She nodded sympathetically, though she still looked at me like I was fragile. “Okay. Well, get some rest I guess…See you Monday.”
I hastily abandoned my groceries after that, grabbing only the essentials before hurrying through the self checkout.
The paranoia only tightened its grip when I made my way over to the campus library an hour later.
I needed reference books for my essay, but my mind wasn’t on art history. As I walked down the grand stone steps of the library, clutching my tote to my chest, my eyes locked onto a vehicle in the fire lane across the street.
It was a massive, pristine black SUV. The windows were tinted so heavily they looked like black mirrors.
It wasn’t doing anything explicitly wrong. It was just sitting there, idling.
I quickly unlocked my beat up Volkswagen Beetle, tossed my bag into the passenger seat, and locked the doors the second I was inside. I pulled out into the traffic, my eyes glued to the rearview mirror.
Two cars behind me, the black SUV pulled out.
My heart started to hammer a frantic, panicked somersault. “Coincidence,” I whispered aloud, reassuring myself. “It’s just a coincidence.”
I took a sharp right turn down a busy commercial avenue. The SUV took the same turn.
Panic instantly flooded my veins. I hit the gas, weaving aggressively past a delivery truck.
I took a sudden, un-signalled turn down a narrow, residential side street lined with parked cars, praying the maze of one ways would throw them off.
I took another right, then a quick left, my tires squealing slightly against the damp asphalt.
I checked the mirror. The street behind me was empty.
I let out a ragged, shaking breath, my shoulders dropping as a wave of dizzying relief washed over me. I had lost them. Or, more likely, they had just been heading in a different direction and I was losing my mind like I already suspected.
I drove the remaining way to my apartment complex with my hands trembling, desperate just to get inside, lock my doors and wait for Julian’s phone call.
I pulled into the narrow driveway of my apartment building, shifting the car into park. I killed the engine, leaning my forehead against the steering wheel as I tried to calm my racing pulse.
As I went to step out of the car, my hand faltered grabbing the door handle and I froze as the SUV maintaining its agonising, crawling pace, rolled past with the dark, heavily tinted passenger window facing me directly.
I sat frozen in the driver’s seat, the air trapped in my lungs refusing to release. Even through the black glass, I could feel the intense, predatory weight of a mysterious gaze staring at me, sending a shiver crawling down the length of my spine.
I waited for the SUV to disappear down the block before exiting my car.
I grabbed my bag, practically kicking the door open, and sprinted across the damp pavement of the parking lot. I didn’t care if any of my neighbours saw me running like a madwoman. I bolted up the three flights of stairs, my keys jingling frantically in my shaking hands.
I shoved the key into the deadbolt, threw my weight against the heavy wood, and slammed the door shut the second I was inside. Click. Click. Click. I threw every single lock on the door, leaning back against the cool wood as my chest heaved.
My hands were trembling so uncontrollably I could barely unzip my bag. I pulled out my phone, my thumb hovering over the keypad before I forcefully dialled the local police department.
“Emerald Grove Police Department, How can I help you?” a bored, nasally voice answered on the third ring.
“Hi, um…” I cleared my throat, trying to sound normal and not like a crazy paranoid person. “I need to report a stalker, or… a suspicious vehicle. A black SUV just followed me all the way from the campus library to my student apartment building.”
“Okay, ma’am. Did the driver exit the vehicle?”
“No,” I admitted, my grip tightening on the phone. “But they followed my exact turns. And then they drove past my driveway. Really, really slowly. They were looking right at me.”
The dispatcher sighed, a soft, static sound of exhausted patience. “Did they threaten you? Make any aggressive gestures?”
“Well, no, the windows were heavily tinted, but—”
“Ma’am, unfortunately, driving slowly on a public street isn’t a crime,” she interrupted rudely, the lack of urgency in her tone making my stomach sink.
“Unless they trespass on your property, attempt to make unauthorised contact, or threaten you, there isn’t much we can do.
I can note the vehicle description, but I can’t dispatch an officer just for a suspicious car. ”
“Right. Okay. Thank you,” I whispered, pulling the phone away and ending the call.
I let my head fall back against the door with a hollow thud. They thought I was just a paranoid student. I felt like a paranoid student.
I pushed myself off the door and walked into the kitchen, desperate to force myself into a normal routine. I pulled a cutting board out and a few fresh ingredients, intending to make a simple dinner, but the silence of the apartment was suffocating.
I picked up the knife, but my eyes immediately darted to the window over the sink. The evening light was fading, turning the glass into a dark mirror.
A shudder ripped through me. I dropped the knife.
I couldn’t stand the exposed glass. I walked quickly into the living room, grabbing the heavy curtains and yanking them shut, plunging the room into shadows. I moved to my bedroom, pulling the blinds down so hard they rattled against the frame.
Click. Locked.
I practically ran back into the kitchen, marching straight to the sliding glass door.
The same door I had sworn I left locked the night I found the painting.
I checked the latch. It was secure. I engaged the secondary floor lock anyway, yanking the thick drapes across the glass until not even a sliver of the fire escape was visible.
Only when every single window was covered and locked did the frantic hammering in my chest begin to ease.
I abandoned the vegetables entirely. Instead, I reached for a bottle of red wine I had been saving, pouring a generous amount into a glass.
I carried the wine into the living room, turning on a few low lamps to chase away the suffocating darkness I had just created. I grabbed my thickest, softest blanket, curled into the corner of the sofa, and pulled it all the way up to my chin.
I turned the television on, flipping blindly until I found a mindless romantic comedy. I turned the volume up, letting the cheerful dialogue drown out the heavy, creeping silence of the apartment.
Outside, the rain had started up again, a steady drumming against the roof and the brick exterior of the building. I took a long sip of wine, the alcohol burning a warm, comforting path down my throat.
Just a coincidence, I told myself firmly, staring blankly at the TV screen. You are locked inside. You are safe.
I pulled my knees up to my chest, closing my eyes and listening to the rain, desperately trying to trick my brain into believing it.
The romantic comedy on the television was doing nothing so far to settle my nerves. Even with the volume turned up, I was hyper-aware of every single creak the old apartment building made, my eyes constantly darting to the heavy, drawn curtains.
When my phone suddenly buzzed on the coffee table, I physically flinched, spilling a few drops of red wine onto my fingers.
I set the glass down quickly, my heart in my throat as I reached for the phone. The screen lit up the dark corner of the sofa.
Unknown Caller.
A massive, overwhelming wave of relief crashed over me. I snatched the phone up, pressing it to my ear as I curled tighter into the blanket.
“Julian,” I breathed, closing my eyes against the bright glare of the TV.