14. Madelyn
MADELYN
My gut’s telling me something bad is about to happen as soon as I step foot into school the next morning.
Laughs sound at a distance, along with gasps from students standing in front of the bulletin board. Curiosity leads me to them, drawing me in close.
At the front, in the middle of it all, none other than their P.E. teacher—Kayden.
“Nothing to see here,” he says, shooing students away. “Classes are about to start. Keep going.” He strips a sheet of paper from the bulletin board and gives it a long look.
“Can you believe it?” He turns it to show me.
My heart catches in my throat as I seize on the familiar piece of paper. I don’t laugh. I’m not a single bit amused.
Dear diary…
I don’t need to read the rest to know it’s a page of my diary.
I swallow the lump in my throat. This is nothing. Kayden doesn’t have to know. “N-no.”
“Kids will be kids.” Kayden chuckles. Crumbling the piece of paper before turning and walking away.
But it wasn’t the kids. It was him.
My stalker.
I threatened him back, dared him to do it, and he delivered.
A flood of students rushes through the halls, and I can’t move. My hands tremble, so I fist them at my sides.
My blood is boiling through my veins, my head feeling light.
I can’t do this again. Not another stunt like the one in college. First, a sex tape. Now, my sexual fantasies being exposed.
I should have kept my fucking mouth shut.
The tip of a finger on my shoulder startles me, the warmth of a whole palm soon following.
“Are you okay?”
I turn around to see Joseph. The janitor. A guy in his late twenties, who’s good-looking enough to be a model, with bright blue eyes and wavy hair hidden under a black cap, the same color as his jump suit uniform.
He gives me a soft smile, a friendly face that suddenly brings doubt to every cell of my body.
Why would he ask me if I’m okay, now?
“I—yeah. I’m fine.” I straighten.
“You looked like you’re about to faint.” He tilts his head.
“I was watching you.” He clears his throat.
“Sorry. That came out weird. I didn’t mean it in a creepy way.
” He points to his cleaning cart by the lockers, a few feet away from us.
“I was cleaning around here and just happened to look your way. I got concerned, that’s all. ”
His words are meant to relax me and show concern.
Instead, doubt creeps within me. Why did Joseph notice me? No one else does. No one cared. And there are hundreds of people in the building.
Besides, Joseph is way too good-looking to be a janitor.
What if it’s him? My stalker? What if he let it slip and tried to come back from his words?
He said it. He’s been watching me.
I mentally shake my head. I shouldn’t make any assumptions. Not without proof.
“I didn’t have any breakfast,” I lie. “So I’m feeling a little lightheaded, that’s all.” The words come out effortlessly. “Thanks. I’d better go grab a quick snack, excuse me.”
I rush away before he can ask anything else and I make a fool of myself.
My hands are on my face, washing away whatever that was with cold water, when there’s a vibration in the pocket of my pink overall dress.
I ignore it, focusing on what I’m doing. I rub circles of cold water over my cheeks, staring at the mirror.
Another vibration in my pocket.
I shake the water off my hands and take out my phone.
My eyes widen. Two new messages from ‘Unknown.’
Unknown:
Told you there’d be consequences, my rebel.
Unknown:
You should have listened to me.
I clench the phone, my knuckles burning from the pressure.
“Who the fuck are you?” I whisper, immediately scanning my surroundings to make sure no students heard me, but I’m alone. It doesn’t take a minute for my phone to vibrate in my hands again. I don’t need to be a genius to know who Unknown is.
God. He’s got to have microphones in every corner of the school, along with cameras, too.
Maybe he’s hacked the school security system. Or…my phone.
Is he watching and listening to my every move?
Unknown:
You’d like to know that, wouldn’t you?
“Yes. Tell me, and let’s get this over with.”
Unknown:
Where’s the fun in that?
“There’s no fun in any of this,” I say, my voice still low.
I can’t believe I’m talking to myself in front of a mirror in a bathroom.
Unknown:
Aww, you don’t like my game?
“What do you want from me?”
Unknown:
You know very well what I want from you. You’re the one who challenged me. You can’t fault me for doing as I promised, my rebel.
“Stop calling me that.”
Unknown:
What would you like me to call you then? My wife? I know we’re far too early in the relationship, but I can see that happening, so we might as well get ahead of the game. Or would you prefer Mine? I’d be willing to settle for either.
“How about you don’t call me at all and leave me the fuck alone?”
Unknown:
You’re breaking my heart, but we both know I can’t do that, Madelyn.
Vibrate.
Unknown:
I suggest you take the easy way and do what I say. Listen to your future husband.
Unknown:
You’ll have to whether you like it or not, my wife.
I take a deep breath, my chest heaving, as I watch in the mirror.
This guy is delusional.
“I’m not your wife, and I’ll never be,” I mutter. “See? No ring.” I show my bare ring finger to the mirror.
Unknown:
Oh, is that what you want from me? A ring? You should have told me earlier.
I grit my teeth.
“I want you to stop harassing me.”
Unknown:
Too bad we’re meant to be, my wife.
The thought is there, to smash my phone against the wall and make it break into pieces. Cut all methods of communication with my stalker.
Unknown:
I may have left you another gift on your desk. You’d better find it before anyone else does.
I push my phone into my pocket and sprint out of the bathroom. I have another class in a couple of minutes, and I can’t afford to let my students find whatever he left me.
When I get to my classroom and find it empty, a huge sigh escapes me.
Thank God.
The present is in the middle of my desk, as usual, a small box, this time, black with a white bow.
On it, a note that says,
I know you don’t wear makeup, but I thought this might suit you well.
Use it.
Yours,
Your husband.
“Like hell you are!” I announce to the empty class, making a small ball of paper with the note and tossing it to a corner of my desk.
Two things catch my attention and send me spiraling. One, the note is on the outside this time. And two, he used the nickname he just came up with.
These things suggest this note was written recently. Recently as in—as we were texting. Which leads me to believe he is close enough to me that he had enough time to do that and sneak the gift and note into my desk without me noticing.
I pick up the note and slide it into the pocket of my dress. That’s it. I’m going to figure out the handwriting. Find a way to get a sample of all the people at school if I have to and compare it to the note. I’ll start with the teachers.
Focusing back on the box, I avoid any more overthinking and open it.
A small, rectangular-shaped tube sits on it, sealed.
It looks like a…lipstick.
A wave of relief washes through me again.
Maybe I can do what he’s asking me to do this time.
“If I use it,” I mutter to myself. “Can I get my diary back?”
As expected, he’s listening. My phone must be bugged. The response comes right away.
Unknown:
That’s a good one, my wife. Who said anything about giving your diary back?
Ping.
Unknown:
I’m not done having fun with it. I’m still getting to know all your darkest desires. But I plan to make good use of it. With you, of course.
Fuck.
My words hover over my tongue, wanting to spell out vulgar words, wanting to wish him all the worst in the world. I hold myself.
“I guess there’s no lipstick for me then.”
Unknown:
If you don’t use it, you’ll get punished. Wouldn’t it be easier to be a good girl and follow my orders?
“I’m not good at following sicko’s orders.”
Unknown:
Ouch. I’m giving you a thoughtful gift, and that’s how you repay me? Why don’t you go to the bathroom and check it out? You might like it.
I make no effort in replying and cut our conversation short.
Okay. I’ll play. Maybe if I do this one thing for him, he’ll leave me alone for the rest of the day and I can figure out how to conduct my own little research with the handwriting.
I’m in the bathroom again in moments, and this time, two students squeeze by me as I stare at the mirror.
I open the lipstick cap. This shouldn’t be too hard.
Bzzz. Bzzz.
The girls next to me purse their lips, sneaking a curious glance at the lipstick tube.
I stare at the tube. My hand vibrating along with it.
What. In. The. Hell?
“What’s that?” one of the girls murmurs to the other.
I hurry to close the cap and the buzzing stops.
“Cheap lipsticks. This one is defective,” I blurt out, pretending to be casual.
I don’t stop to think that a lipstick being defective for vibrating doesn’t make sense.
Instead, I nip into a cubicle and close the door, trying to compose myself until the two girls leave.
Holding myself from screaming, I practice my deep breaths again.
This lipstick is a freaking sex toy, too, and that became evident with the vibrations.
Of course it is.
Another vibration almost causes me to drop the tube into the open toilet seat, but I catch it before it slides from my fingers.
The vibration’s coming from the pocket of my dress again.
I take out my phone, holding it alongside the lipstick tube, and slide open the new text message.
Unknown:
In case you’re thinking of abandoning the idea…Remember, there’s a price to pay if you don’t do what you’re told.
This psycho is a mind reader. Where is he hiding? Are there actual cameras in the bathroom?
Unknown:
I know what you’re doing. You’re probably screening all corners of the bathroom looking for secret cameras, aren’t you?
I bite my bottom lip, frustration building up inside me.
How does he know?
Unknown:
Relax, there aren’t any. I’m just that good at reading you, my wife.
The slamming of the door hints at the other girls leaving. I’m by myself.