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“It’s ten at night,” Zayn growls. “Why are you still there?”
The person is wearing a dark hoodie, his hands stuck in his pockets.
Weirdo.
“I am going over some documents.”
I am hardly paying any attention to the conversation, my focus on the lone figure standing under the streetlight.
I narrow my eyes. Is his head tilted towards me or is it just a trick of the light?
On a closer look, my spine tingles as I realize that he is looking right at me, and he has covered his face with a mask: an ugly clown mask.
My breath catches and I jump with a squeak when the email notification on my open laptop makes a sound.
“What’s wrong? Agatha?” Zayn’s voice sounds hard.
My heart is beating fast, and I stammer, “N-nothing. It is just the email; the noise it made… I got scared.”
I make my way to my table and glance at the email and my blood chills.
‘Yellow is really your color.’
There is a smiley face at the end, but no signature.
I am wearing a yellow blouse.
Rushing to the window. I peek out.
The man is gone.
Suddenly the office seems darker and larger than ever, and for the first time in a long time, I feel frightened.
“Hey, Zayn?”
“What is it?” he asks warily. “What's going on? You sound weird.”
I nearly choke on the fear that is building up in my throat. “Ah, why don’t yo
u come and pick me up? I’m nearly done here.”
“Where’s your car?” he asks, his voice sounding suspicious.
My throat is dry as my hand curves around a heavy paperweight. “I’m too tired to drive. Can you please hurry?”
“Agatha, what’s wrong?” I can feel concern and urgency leaking into his voice and my mouth flaps open, no words coming out.
My office has no door on it, and I am starting to regret that I let Jenna turn off all the lights in the other rooms.
“Nothing.” My voice comes out hoarse. “Just come pick me up, please.”
The fact that I am so scared gets to Zayn, and he says curtly, "I’m on my way.”
I am a strong woman.
I have always been an independent woman, carving my own path, not fearing anybody. Fear like this is not something I experience too often. I am always protected, my mace my best friend, but this sort of terror is new to me. This helplessness breaks a piece of me, and I hate it.
At this moment, I hate everything about this.
