Chapter 11 Reverie #3
As much as the idea of staying in my dorm makes me want to vomit, the last thing I want to do is put my best friend in danger.
Even with an officer driving me there, I don’t trust my father isn’t somehow watching my every move, and I’m not stupid enough to convince myself he can’t track down her place.
If he can find my exact dorm room, he can find my best friend’s house.
“Shit,” I mutter, conflicted with what the fuck to do.
My phone buzzes, and a text from Barry pops up.
Barry: Officer Nichols is on his way to you now. Pack a bag for a few nights.
And then what?
Lionel still knows where I sleep, and even if the residence life director relocates me to a different building, what’s stopping him from finding me there? This all just feels so… pointless. Running from a man who doesn’t give a fuck about abiding by the law is fucking pointless.
You could still leave. Run off to London and never look back.
But I would look back. I would check the news religiously, just waiting for Roxi’s face to pop up one day, breaking news of a college student brutally murdered by the Locksmith.
And because the murders never fully stopped after Lionel went to prison, the media will be none the wiser when he kills again. To the world, it’ll look like business as fucking usual—the Locksmith has struck again.
My fingers continue to toy with my North Star necklace, Barry’s words echoing in my mind. Before I’ve fully wrapped my mind around what I’m doing, I reach behind my neck, unclasp the chain, and set it down on my nightstand.
I feel naked and exposed without it, but for the first time, I don’t want to be Barry’s North Star. Not right now. Not when I'm lying to him about where I'll be. It's because I know how stupid I'm being that I can't wear that necklace.
I’ll get an Uber to a hotel instead, so at least if Lionel finds me, I’m not endangering anyone else.
But before I can pull up the web browser to book one, I see a plethora of text messages.
Shit, Sable called.
I had already forgotten about it, so I swipe down on my notifications, only to glimpse a text of her freaking out over someone being there.
My blood runs cold, and I immediately go into another panic. Fuck, I’m such an idiot! What if my father’s there? He could’ve found out about her and is going to use her to get to me.
It’s been ten minutes since she first called, which means he could already fucking have her.
Heart pounding and hands trembling, I go to hit call, but a call from her pops up on my screen first.
I rush to answer. “Sable? Are you—”
“What the hell is Dread doing?” she rushes out, her tone on edge and fiery.
I sputter for a moment, my brain trying to process the whiplash of going from panic to confusion in a matter of seconds.
“Uh, wh-what?” I stutter, completely thrown off. “What do you mean?”
“His stupid-ass friend broke into the home and is harassing m— Don’t fucking touch that, you idiot!”
My mouth hangs open, utterly bewildered, while something metallic clatters in the background, followed by a low, amused murmur. Oftentimes, Sable stays past closing to work, so it’s no surprise she’s still there.
But what the fuck is Dread's friend doing there?
Sable exhales heavily. “He scared the shit out of me,” she says, considerably quieter, her tone steeped in vulnerability. “He said he was here on Dread’s behalf, and made it sound like you were in trouble. I was texting and calling, but you weren’t answering.”
“Wha— Wait a fucking second. Who? Which friend?” I stammer, my heart picking up speed once again.
“The one with the stupid-ass name—Rogue,” she answers, growling his name with distaste.
“Damn, it sounds sexy when you say it like that,” Rogue teases in the background.
Sable descends into a furious tirade in Spanish while my head spins.
Did Dread send Rogue there to distract her? Or is he there to draw me out of my dorm?
I close my eyes, defeated, exhausted, and a prisoner to the headache squeezing my brain.
All I know is he has something planned for me tonight. And no matter what it is, it’s going to wreck my already fragile sanity.
“I can’t deal with this,” I mutter, swiping a hand through my hair and getting to my feet. I rush to my dresser and quickly rustle through a drawer, pulling out a sweatshirt and leggings.
Adrenaline is steadily releasing into my veins, cracking the stone molded around my bones and weighing me down mere moments ago.
“Lock your door, and whatever you do, don’t come out,” she orders sharply. “I’m going to kill that motherfucker, I swear to Christ, Rev. You can’t stop me this time.”
I pause for a moment, closing my eyes and tipping my head back with a sigh, my frustration mounting.
It feels like my head is going to fucking explode.
The whiplash of emotions circulating through my system, along with fear and panic over two men who can’t seem to leave me the hell alone, has me on the verge of combusting.
“Sable, I can’t. I have to leave.”
“Why?”
I put her on speaker and then tear off my pajamas to redress in the warmer clothing. “My father… he’s… here. Somewhere. He was in my room earlier when I was working, so I have to leave for the night.”
“?Que? ??QUE?!” she screeches, panic now filling her voice.
“Jesus,” Rogue complains.
“Yep,” I mutter bitterly, slipping on socks next before shoving my feet into my Docs and haphazardly tying them up.
Now that Dread is after me tonight, I no longer have time to pack. I need to get the fuck out of here before either of them finds me.
“I’m calling the co—”
“I already have one on the way. Don’t worry about it.
I don’t know where Dread is right now or what he has planned, but I’m going to try and get to a hotel before he can get to me.
Or before Lionel can,” I grumble the last part as I grab my coat and shrug it on.
I snatch my charger from the wall and stuff it in the pocket.
“If you want to place a bet on who will find me first, my cash is on Lionel.”
Sable sputters, clearly at a loss for words, but I also don’t have time to wait for her to find them. “Listen, I have to go. I’ll try to text you if I make it.”
“Rev, no, wait. Stay on the phone!” she pleads, but her voice is sharp as she snaps, “Stop fucking touching shit!”
A sharp knock on my door has me freezing in my tracks, my heart tumbling into the pit of my stomach.
I don’t know who’s on the other side, but the likelihood I won’t like it is so astronomically high, I consider just jumping out of my fucking window. Except I'll probably break my legs, so there’s nowhere else for me to go except through whoever’s outside the door.
“I have to go,” I repeat. “Try not to worry, okay? The officer is gonna camp outside my hotel door, I'm sure. I love you.”
I hang up before she can get out another word. If I survive the night, the likelihood of Sable murdering me has me reconsidering just staying in bed and writing my obituary instead.
After slipping the phone in my coat pocket, I grab my scissors from my desk and quietly tiptoe toward the door. Fuck whoever built these dorms—they didn't give us peepholes. It would be fantastic right now to know who's on the other side.
However, I don't allow myself time to dwell on whose face I’m going to see. If I do, I’ll panic again. So, I fist the scissors with the sharp point out, raise my arm, and whip open the door with my other hand.
My reflexes stop me from stabbing a police officer in the eye just in time.
The man screams, his voice pitching high as he jumps back, a look of absolute terror on his face.
Frozen, we stare at one another with wide eyes and heaving chests, though only one of us looks as if they shit their pants, and it’s certainly not me.
Once my brain processes I’m not in imminent danger, I quickly drop my arm and step back.
“I-I’m so sorry, I thought you were…” I trail off, not sure which monster to choose from.
The officer quickly straightens, face cherry red as he clears his throat, and puffs out his chest, as if that’s going to restore his manhood.
I would weigh the likelihood of him soiling himself, but I think the poor guy might actually need the obituary more than I do.
He hooks his thumbs in his belt, and says, “Reverie, I presume? I’m Officer Nichols. I’m here to keep you safe.”