15. Sadie
Fifteen
Sadie
The garden air hits my face, and I stand here for a moment with my back against the wall, my heart is pounding so hard and loud I’m sure others can hear it. My brain is finally catching up with the last ten minutes.
What did I just do?
No. What did I just let happen?
There's a difference, and right now both versions of the question are running simultaneously, and neither has an answer I want to sit with. I press the heels of my hands against my eyes, breathe and try to locate the version of myself that makes sensible decisions.
She seems to have left the party without me.
This is not me. I’m the responsible one, the one the family comes to when things are not working right. I’m the one who looks after everyone, not the one who makes stupid decisions.
I don't know who he is.
That's the thing that hits me the hardest, the thing I somehow managed to not think about clearly until right now.
I don't know who he is. I don't know his name, his face, anything beyond a distorted voice, flowers that appear in my locked room while I sleep and a number saved in my phone as Ghost. For all I know, he could be dangerous. Actually dangerous. He could be anyone.
He could be someone who takes girls and doesn't bring them back. Or the type of guy who brainwashes you and makes you join a cult, or sells you, or kills you. And I let him touch me. He could be a murderer.
The thought lands hard, and I feel sick with it, sick with the situation, sick with myself for not thinking about it until now. I can’t believe I’m only just thinking about that now, when I'm standing in a garden at a pool party trying to remember how to breathe normally.
I was so stupid. So fucking stupid.
"Sadie."
Juno is coming around the side of the house. She looks relieved that she’s found me and also concerned. She takes one look at my face and closes the remaining distance fast.
"Hey, what happened? You disappeared."
"Nothing." The word comes out too flat. I try again. "I'm fine. I just needed air."
She looks at me for a long moment. I don’t blame her, I’ve been outside the whole fucking time, what new air would I get here? But I’m hoping she's had enough to drink, and she doesn’t notice how stupid what I just said is.
"You don't look fine," she says, quietly.
"I'm okay." I pull something that resembles a smile together. "I just, got in my head for a second. I'm good."
She watches me for another beat. Then she links her arm through mine.
"Come back to the pool," she says. "Maya is attempting a handstand underwater and it's going badly and you need to witness it."
I let her pull me back toward the lights and the noise. I smile at Maya's handstand attempt, and I laugh when Juno makes a comment that lands perfectly. I stay until the party starts to thin out, the night gets properly cold and going home feels like the right call.
I feel sick the entire time. Not at him. At myself.
What is wrong with me?
That's the part I can't explain and don't want to examine.
Because I’m scared of what the answer will be.
***
As soon as I got back to my room, the first thing I want is a shower. I stand under the running water for a little longer than usual. I want to wipe the shame away.
I get out, dry off and put my pajamas on, and try to feel like myself again. Mostly it works, but I know it’s not going to help me.
I pick up my phone from the bed. No new messages. I go to the contact saved as Ghost and look at the conversation, shaking my head. What was I doing? It’s there in my message: I was inviting him to do that to me. Fucking hell.
I need to be smarter than that girl. I need to look after myself better. I mean I haven’t done a good job with my parents, they fucking left. My brother is a whole different story, and me… I’m barely surviving, but I know I’m strong and can fight anything.
My laptop is on the desk, the lid open, and the screen dark. I look at it for a second. Then I’m across the room and close it firmly. Both hands flat on the lid.
He's been watching me through it. I know that. Whatever he has access to, and it's more than I want to think about, my laptop is part of it. I need to switch my camera off or something. Maybe there’s something I can buy to cover it. That's something I will look into tomorrow.
The bracelet comes off next. I unclasp it at the kitchen counter and set it down beside the vase, the violet charm face down, and I look at all the flowers, they’re fresh, perfect, and chosen specifically for me.
I make a decision I should have made days ago.
In the morning I'm throwing it all away.
I'm throwing it away and then I'm blocking his number. I'm going to the Residence Assistant’s office and filing the report I should have filed the first time flowers appeared on my counter.
This has to stop, and I know it won’t if I don’t do anything about it.
I go to bed not looking back at the counter. I have to be strong here.
***
I wake up staring at the ceiling, and before I can stop myself, I turn my head to the door, wondering if he came.
It doesn’t matter what he’s doing, he’s breaking the law, and he has to be stopped before I get hurt.
Everything is going in the garbage. I throw the covers off me, and walk into the kitchen, and stop dead.
There are six new violets, a deeper purple than yesterday's, sitting in the vase like the ones I was going to throw away never existed at all.
I stare at them for three full seconds before I look at the counter beside them.
The bracelet is gone.
The cold moves through me. I move closer to the counter to get a better look, making sure it’s really not there.
It’s not. My hand moves to the counter where I put it, and something catches my sight.
I look at my wrist, and there it is. The delicate silver bracelet is around my wrist. The violet charm sits against my pulse point.
He was in my place again. The room suddenly feels smaller.
I look at the laptop, which is still closed, so he didn’t open it to watch me. He came in, took the bracelet off the counter, and put it on my wrist while I was sleeping, and I didn't wake up. I didn't feel it. This is not normal.
My hands are moving under the sink before I make the decision, there’s a roll of bin bags in there.
I throw the violets in first. All of it, the vase, water and stems, straight into the bag without letting myself look at them properly, because if I look at them something in me will hesitate and I’m done hesitating.
The card from the bakery which I kept last week goes in. The ribbon from the first bunch of violets goes in. Every small thing from him which I've been keeping without admitting I was keeping it.
I tie the bag and put it by the door ready to take out when I leave for the day. I stand in the kitchen for a moment in the quiet.
I fill the kettle to make my own coffee, look around and smile when I see my camera on the shelf by the window.
I pick it up without thinking about it, it’s just muscle memory, it’s the same reflex that makes me reach for it whenever the light hits a room, and I think it looks nice.
And the light this morning is beautiful.
The sunrise is coming in low and pale gold across the rooftops; it’s an early winter morning that looks like it was designed to be photographed.
I frame it through the viewfinder. Wait. Then click. Then again, at a different angle, the window frame cutting across the corner, the geometry of it more interesting than the straight shot.
I make myself a second coffee and sit cross-legged on the bed with the laptop open, my camera is connected and I start uploading the pictures from my memory card. I know the pictures on the card will make me smile and relax even for a moment.
It takes a few minutes to upload them all. I take a sip of my coffee and let the images populate and feel something loosen in my chest that has been tight since I woke up.
This is my happy place.
I set the mug down and start clicking through.
The first day at college, students walking to campus, Grounds, my friends, and the image I took of the Crawford brothers without them knowing about it.
I keep clicking through them, smiling at them all, then my finger freezes over the button.
The image on the screen is not one I took.
It’s my bedroom. My room, from the end of my bed.
I’m asleep on my side, my hair across the pillow, and one hand open beside my face.
The lamp is off, there’s just the ambient light from the window, but the shot is clear enough that I can see my own face relaxed in sleep, and I know that standing at the end of my bed is my stalker.
I make sure there aren’t any more pictures, I can’t find any, but the pounding in my chest is starting to hurt now.
Did he ever do anything else while he was here? How did I let it get so far?
I close the laptop, get in the shower and get ready for the day, before some part of my brain tells me to change my mind and let him continue to break into my dorm room.
Once ready, I get the rubbish bag, open the door, and there she is. Juno is in the corridor about to knock on my door.
She takes one look at me, then at the bin bag. "What happened?"
"Nothing, just a bit of spring cleaning."
"It's autumn."
"Clean out. Whatever." I shift the bag to my other hand. "I'm getting rid of some stuff."
"Sadie."
"I'm fine." I start walking. She falls into step beside me, which I knew she would. "I just need to drop this off and then go to the residence office."
"The residence office." Her voice is careful. "Why?" There’s a hint of worry in her tone, but not enough to push me on this subject, I hope.
I think about what to say. What version of this can I give her that's true enough to be real and contained enough that she doesn't panic.
"The security panel outside my door kept beeping last night," I say. "I want them to check the system."
It’s not a lie; it’s just not everything.
Juno is quiet for a moment. "Is everything okay with your room?"