Chapter 4
Chapter four
The sun beams through my bedroom window and kisses my cheek as I roll over and stretch my arms above me with a groan.
Tilting my head to look at the clock on the nightstand, I check the time.
Twelve-fifteen. I smile to myself and go to staring at the ceiling.
I feel so much more refreshed today, thank God I was able to sleep in.
Getting out of bed, I stroll into the kitchen and turn on the coffee pot, then pull out my favorite mug and the bottle of butter pecan creamer from the refrigerator.
Once the cup is made I go over to the couch and turn on the TV.
I use it mostly for background noise instead of watching it, which helps me feel not so alone.
Aside from Ashlynn and Hazel, I don't have many friends here. I like it this way. No one to ask questions, no one else I have to lie to about who I am and where I come from. I’ve done enough of that already.
The only reason Ash and I are as close as we are is because she all but forced me.
She would constantly ask me if I wanted to have coffee or go have lunch or something and I always found excuses not to go.
One day she cornered me and said “I’ll wear you down eventually, and then you won't be able to get rid of me.” Which is exactly what happened.
When I finally gave into her relentlessness, we went out for coffee at a cozy coffee shop downtown.
She yapped my ear off about where she grew up, schools she attended, the weather, her friends, Doc’s, anything she could to try to connect with me and get me to open up.
When she landed on the topic of music, she hit the jackpot.
We like a lot of the same bands and the conversation took off and we’ve been friends ever since.
She knows nothing about who I really am.
My real name, or my fucked up past. Thanks to a carefully curated identity, courtesy of my uncle, that’s just as believable as anyone else's. I was able to tell her the story of the little girl who grew up as an only child to loving and amazing parents, who moved to Florida a while back, after they both retired. I hate that I’m lying to her.
She is a sweet person and has a huge heart, but I can’t tell her the truth.
I’ll never be able to tell anyone the truth.
To be honest, I don't know that I want to. It’s been easier pretending it never existed and that it was all just some bad dream.
Finishing my coffee, I amble back into the kitchen and put my mug in the sink before going back to my room to get ready for the day.
It’s my day off and I need to go pick up a few things, then stop to have dinner with Hazel.
She has been my rock since being here. I could never thank her enough for everything she did for me the day that I first arrived.
She’s an angel, and I make sure to see her as often as I can.
I throw on a pair of dark blue skinny jeans and a plain black t-shirt, that’s form fitting but not too tight.
In the bathroom I brush out my hair and decide to leave it down, my long dark waves resting at the middle of my back.
Wanting to let my face breathe for a change, I decide against wearing any makeup–I wear that shit enough at work.
Exiting the bathroom, I walk over to the closet to grab my favorite, worn out looking leather jacket and a pair of checkered Vans.
In the corner of my bedroom stands a full length mirror, which I step in front of to check myself over.
Deciding I’m happy with the look, I leave the bedroom and make my way to the front door.
After locking everything up–three times–I step off of the porch and across the gravel driveway, then climb into my SUV.
“How is work going Parker? Is James still treating you girls well?” Hazel asks me as she puts dinner on our plates.
Tonight she made chicken marsala with a side of asparagus.
If it wasn’t for her cooking, I'd survive solely off of frozen meals and fast food, since I don't see much of a point in cooking for just myself.
I always cook too much and end up having to throw away the leftovers before they grow legs and turn into an unwanted house guest.
“He is. Thank you again for setting me up with that job. I couldn’t have asked for a better boss. If he notices I’ve been working too many hours, he insists on cutting me out early so I don’t burn out, and he just gave us all a little bit of a raise.”
James owns Doc’s. He’s in his late fifties, married with two children and three grandchildren.
I’m thankful everyday that my first ever job was working for a boss like him.
I’ve heard some of the other people at work talk about nightmare bosses, and I’m glad I never got to experience that.
Also, a little sad that I didn't get my first job until I was twenty-seven.
“I’m going to tell you like I always do, you do not need to keep thanking me. I’m just happy to see that you’re doing so well and you still like where you’re working. I know that James really enjoys having you there too.” She tells me with her warm smile and a firm tone.
We eat our dinner in a comfortable silence, then spend some time chatting and catching up, since it’s been a couple of weeks since I was last here.
She probes me with questions about the latest local drama, as if I’d pay attention.
Having heard some of it at the bar though, I fill her in on what I do know.
I always want to ask her if she’s spoken to my uncle and find out how he’s doing or if he asks about me, but I know I shouldn’t.
I’m not even sure if they’re the kind of friends who speak regularly or if Hazel is someone he’s worked with in the past. Still though, curiosity eats at me.
I can’t explain how much I miss him–he’s the only part of my old life that I do miss–but overall, I’m grateful I’m here.
After dinner I help with the dishes and ask if she needs my assistance with anything else before I go.
She waves me off, as she always does. “I’m fine, Sweetie.
You go home and enjoy the rest of your night off.
” After she walks me to my SUV, we say our goodbyes for the evening and I climb inside.
Turning the ignition, I turn and give her a wave, then back out of the driveway and hit the road.
It’s a short drive to my house but the whole time I’m on high alert.
That feeling I felt at the bar hits me again.
Somewhere out there, I know someone is watching me and I just can’t shake it.
People say to always listen to your gut, and mine is telling me something is wrong.
Using my rearview mirror, I scan my surroundings but don’t see anything out of the ordinary.
The hairs on my body begin to raise and I check all of the mirrors of my vehicle.
Noticing a few cars pass me, going the opposite direction, I don’t see anything that should be making me feel as though someone is drilling holes in the back of my head.
What the fuck?
Quickly I peek over my right shoulder into the back seat to check that someone didn’t climb into my car while I was parked at Hazel’s. I know I locked my doors, I always do, but I’ve watched enough horror movies to know that it wouldn’t stop an axe murderer.
Great, and now I can add paranoia to the list of shit that’s wrong with me.
Rolling my eyes at myself, I focus back on the road.
Even after reaching for the volume, turning up Halsey’s Nightmare, I find that not even the loud music is enough to distract me from the feeling of eyes following me.
My safety net feels like it’s beginning to fail after two years, two years of peace.
I don't know what has my nerves on edge, but something is off.
The rest of the drive home I rack my brain but come up short as far as an explanation. No nightmares, I haven’t had any anxiety or lost too much sleep. NOTHING. Absolutely nothing has happened up until now and either I’m fucking losing it, or my intuition is right, and someone’s out there.
Once I’m home and showered, I sit in my bed and watch as one of my favorite TV show characters takes on the mark of Cain while holding my breath.
I love this show. I know why he is taking on the mark, but I’m pissed off.
He’s been through so much already as it is, and now he has to deal with this bitch ass demon.
I know what’s about to come is going to be epic, but I can't help but feel bad for him; let the man rest.
At some point I start to doze off, but before the darkness can fully drag me under, a noise from outside the french doors of my room sends me flying into a seated position on the bed.
The end credits for the episode I was watching are rolling and the light from both the TV and my bathroom bathes my bedroom in a soft glow.
Damnit, now I’ll have to start that episode all over again.
Cautiously getting out of bed, I tip toe over to the bathroom and shut the light off.
I hate the dark, but I need to see what that sound is and I don't want the light to give me away.
With my gaze never leaving the doors I creep back over to the bed, turn the TV off, and crawl over the mattress.
The hairs on my arms stand at attention and a chill runs through my body.
Drawing in shallow breaths, I walk over to the doors and separate the blinds at the corner of the glass.
I peek through and scan the back deck but I don't see anything. Looking again, I search past the deck, over the back yard and into the treeline. Just as I’m about to give it up and go to bed, movement catches my eye at the edge of the woods.
It’s quick. Just as soon as I notice it, it’s gone.
No, it’s hiding. I feel light headed as I take a step back and slide down the wall.
Someone’s here.