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CHAPTERNINETEEN
Stella
The second I step foot into my bedroom, a wave of exhaustion washes through me. I stare longingly at my bed, kick the door closed and drop my bags at my feet.
Thankfully, the house was empty as I walked through it. The scent of Angie’s cooking permeated the air, so I know she’s not too far away. And, Calvin’s car was parked in the driveway beside my Porsche.
Forgetting about the shower I so desperately need from travelling, I kick my sneakers off my feet, drag my leggings off and slip under the covers.
Despite everything that’s spinning around my head, and the fact that my chest is aching, the image of Seb’s face when I told him we were done is engraved on my freaking eyeballs. The second I rest my head on my pillow, my jet lag and lingering exhaustion take over and I drift off.
Any hope of a restful sleep is thwarted the second the memories of my time with Seb before I was stabbed blur with those of me running away from some fucked-up psycho wielding my knife and threatening to dismember me when he finally catches up.
“Holy shit,” I breathe, sitting upright in bed, my heart pounding a mile a minute and my skin flushed with sweat as if I really was just running away from the devil. “Jesus. Fuck.”
I drop my head into my hands and force the fear from my nightmare away.
It’s not real. It’s just Seb filling my head with stupid assumptions. He has no facts. No one does, or they’d have found who was responsible by now.
Pushing my fingers through the sweat-damp hair, I pull it back and look around my room. I should feel safe, content. But I feel none of those things.
I need to get a grip and set about getting my life back on track. There’s a week left of school until the holiday. After that break, hopefully life can resume. Although, I already know that it’s going to be a while yet until I’m able to fully get back to gym and cheer.
With a resigned sigh, I throw the covers back and pad through to my bathroom.
I turn the shower on to warm up as I pee and brush my teeth, and then once I shed my remaining clothes, I step under the burning hot torrent of water.
Tipping my face up, I try to let it wash everything away. My regrets, my fears, the pain, the humiliation. But most of all, that residual pain that seems to have taken up residence in my chest from turning Seb away.
It was the right thing to do,I tell myself over and over in the hope that at some point, I’ll start believing it.
I wash my hair, revelling in the scent of my usual shampoo that I was forced to leave behind when I fled the country, and lather my body in my favorite vanilla bath foam.
By the time I turn the dial, cutting off the water, I feel almost like myself once more.
Until I step out of the stall, my eyes catching on something on the other side of the room that makes my stomach drop into my feet.
I don’t reach for a towel. Instead, I wrap my arms around myself as I stare at the message on the mirror that the steam filling the room has made visible.
I will find you. And next time, I might be more successful.
Or I might not…
All the air rushes from my lungs, my body trembling with fear.
It’s a joke, I tell myself, racing forward and grabbing a washcloth from the sink to wipe the message away.
It was just Seb that night he was here before. He probably did it before the lipstick message to mess with my head.
But you cleaned the mirror, a little voice pipes up in my head. I push it aside.
My chest is heaving by the time the glass is clean and my body is almost dry.
Finally reaching for a towel, I wrap one around my hair and another around my body before sucking in some confidence and pulling the door open.
My room is empty, exactly as I left it, but I waste no time in rushing to the window and dragging the curtains closed.
If someone is out there…
