Chapter 20 #2
“There’s something you’re not telling me. So, start talking.” Her tone is clipped, demanding. I haven’t even done anything wrong, but she’s looking at me like she’s already decided I’m guilty of something.
I can’t help but roll my eyes.
I refuse to give her the satisfaction of a reaction. “And what exactly do you think I’m hiding?” I ask, folding my arms across my chest.
Sam’s eyes flash toward Naomi, silently urging her to speak. Naomi just shrugs, biting her lip nervously.
“Tell me,” Sam says again, this time slower.
I sigh, already knowing I’ll eventually cave.
“Fine, but you can’t tell anyone,” I warn, pointing between them.
Sam’s eyebrows shoot up. “But Naomi knows?” she says dryly, gesturing toward her.
“That’s different,” I mutter, not bothering to explain why. She wasn’t even supposed to know.
With a huff, I lead them to my room. We sit on the very uncomfortable bed, specifically my one. But that’s only because Naomi and Sam got the good beds with good quality covers.
I don’t even have covers.
But to be honest, I can’t bring myself to care. It’s not like I get much sleep nowadays.
“Alright,” I begin, grabbing my phone from the nightstand. My fingers hover over the screen as I glance at Sam. “Don’t freak out.”
Her lips twitch in annoyance. “I won’t.”
Doubtful.
I hand her the phone, but she doesn’t even wait for me to explain before snatching it from my hand. Naomi and I watch as her eyes scan the screen, her expression shifting from confused to shocked, then to furious.
Oh, here we go.
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about this,” Sam snaps, looking up. “When did it start?”
I hesitate at that, my throat tightening. “Well, I didn’t think much of it at first,” I admit. “It seemed harmless. Just random messages from unknown numbers. But then they started getting… specific.”
Naomi nods in agreement. “The person knew where we were, Sam. They mentioned specific places and events.”
“Like what?” Sam demands.
I swallow hard. “Like the alley Dad used to take us to after school.” My voice wavers as I continue. “I was there once, and… they knew. They mentioned it in a text.”
The room goes silent.
“So, they’ve been watching us,” Sam says, looking between us, her eyes widening. “For a while.”
I nod, my heart sinking further into my chest.
“But why are they targeting you? Why is this person just messaging you?” Sam asks, her eyes narrowing.
“I wish I knew,” I reply honestly. I’ve wondered the same thing myself, and came up with—well, nothing. “All I know is that it’s been going on for a while now, and it’s getting worse.”
“Should we call the police?” Naomi chimes in, looking down at her feet, her face pale.
“No,” I say quickly, shaking my head. “We don’t even know who’s behind this. And what if they retaliate?”
“Retaliate?” Naomi repeats, her voice rising. “They’re already following us, Addie!”
Sam sighs, rubbing her temples. “The police won’t do anything. Not here.”
She’s right. Everyone knows the cops in this town are under the thumb of powerful families—the Carsons, the Steeles, the Brooks. I know for a fact that the Carsons control the police force, and the Steeles are among the most powerful and influential families. So are the Greys and the Brooks family.
If this stalker has connections to any of them, we’re screwed.
“So, we’re on our own,” Naomi mutters, slumping against the wall.
I nod, and exhale a long breath. “Seems like it.”
“Great,” Naomi sighs.
“Let’s add that to our long list of problems.”
***
“I just don’t understand. Why? It makes no sense,” Naomi voice wavers, confusion apparent in her words.
“Isn’t it obvious? It’s got to do with our father. That’s the only explanation,” I reply, though my own voice falters this time. The words feel heavy as they leave my mouth.
“It’s true. Our father wasn’t perfect. He had enemies,” Sam adds, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, her tone as detached as ever.
“He must have been involved in something sketchy that we didn’t know about,” I say firmly. “Don’t you ever wonder about the day of the accident?” I press on.
Both Naomi and Sam visibly tense up at the topic. Naomi stiffens, her lips pressing into a tight line, and Sam looks away entirely.
“The roads were clear. The weather was clear. And Father is—was—a careful driver. You know that. He would never speed—”
“But he would—for you,” Naomi interrupts, and the sudden harshness of her tone shocks me, but I force myself to meet her gaze.
Guilt washes over me, but I refuse to look away. She’s right. I called him that day. I was desperate, panicked, and I needed help. But I didn’t ask him to speed. I didn’t know. That’s what I tell myself. That I didn’t know. That it wasn’t my fault. That I couldn’t have possibly known.
But deep down, the guilt eats me whole. It’s killing me.
“I—” I try to speak, but Naomi cuts me off again, her words sharper this time.
“He sped that day because of you. You called, and of course, he rushed to help,” she accuses, her voice trembling.
It’s not fair. It’s not just me. But the way she says it, as though I’m the only one to blame, stirs something dark inside me.
Anger rises, cold and biting, and I can’t hold it back. “If you want to blame someone, maybe you should think about why I was in that situation to begin with!” My voice shakes, but it’s louder now, cutting through the suffocating silence that follows.
They knew what was going on in school. The bullying. What I had to endure every day. But they did nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
And instead of helping, or even so much as talking to me in school, they turned a blind eye to it. Their silence was a betrayal, a hurt I couldn’t put into words. And maybe if they had done something to help, we wouldn’t be having this conversation in the first place.
That’s something they always fail to understand. Or maybe they do, and just pretend not to, to avoid the guilt.
It’s selfish, Adeline. And if you don’t see that, then you’re more delusional than I thought.
“This conversation isn’t going anywhere,” Sam interrupts, her voice flat as she pushes off the wall.
“Look,” I say, my tone softer but frustration seeping in, “all I’m saying is that there’s a lot about the accident that doesn’t make sense.
And maybe it’s connected to our…” I hesitate, the word catching in my throat.
Stalker. For some reason, I can’t bring myself to even say it.
It almost feels too excessive. Too real. “Our issue,” I say instead.
Sam narrows her eyes. “So, what exactly are you saying? That the accident wasn’t an accident?”
I meet her gaze, giving her a firm nod. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
Naomi exhales sharply, shaking her head as though trying to process everything.
“From now on, we need to take precautions,” she says firmly as her eyes lock onto mine, a rare seriousness in them.
“No walking alone at night. Lock the doors, the windows—everything. From now on, we’re careful. All of us.”
Sam nods, adding, “And next time one of us gets a text, we tell each other. Immediately.”
As much as I want to agree with her. A small part of me screams no. That I’m pulling them into an issue that I can handle on my own.
We’re playing with fire here.
Better one person gets caught in it than all three.
***
I make sure to lock the door when we leave the house for school. I then proceed to check each window, making sure they’re all the way closed, and contemplate investing in bolts to bolt them shut.
No way for anyone to get in.
Just as I begin walking to the car, I feel the unease slowly creep its way back into my mind, clawing at the edges and scratching the memories I’d buried. Or tried to. In that moment, everything comes flooding back, and I freeze in place.
No.
“It’s not like you’re driving the car,” Sam calls out, already in the driver’s seat, her tone flat as she adjusts the rearview mirror.
“I’ll walk,” I manage to say, and the words feel weak, even to me.
“Oh my god, Addie, get in the damn car. I thought we agreed no walking alone,” Naomi snaps, her brown eyes locking onto mine, frustration burning in her gaze.
I feel myself trembling, my hands involuntarily fiddling with the hairband on my wrist. It’s become a nervous habit nowadays, a way to ground myself in situations like this. I take a deep shaky breath, trying to calm the panic rising inside me.
“I’ll sit in the back,” I finally mumble, forcing myself to take a step toward the car.
After all, in the minicab, I had sat in the back, and I hadn’t thought much about the crash.
I had been fine. And I’ll be fine now. I’m not the same person I was four months ago when the mere sight of a car made me sick to my stomach.
I try to take deep breaths, to calm my racing heart.
Trying to block out all the horrifying pictures coming to mind.
Sliding into the back seat, I keep my head down, letting the car door slam shut behind me. As soon as the car starts moving, I squeeze my eyes shut. Every bump in the road, every turn, sends a jolt through me, and my nails dig into my palms—my fists clenched so tight they ache.
The hairband is still there, leaving an angry red mark around my wrist. I rip it off and toss it aside. I can’t keep doing this.
Everything is loud, the noise pressing into my skull. The sound of the tires against the wet road, my own racing thoughts, Naomi and Sam bickering in the front. And as much as I try to calm my body down, my mind thinks one thing: I’m trapped inside this car, and I can’t escape.
I’m trapped in the car and I can’t escape.
I’m trapped in the car.
I’m trapped in the car.
When the school comes into view, I don’t wait. The second the car slows, I throw the door open and stumble into the rain, the cold drops soaking through my uniform instantly.
I hadn’t even realized it was raining.
Naomi’s voice calls after me, but I can’t hear her. I force a smile in their direction, then turn and run like hell.