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Nodding, Rowdy motions for me to walk ahead of him and still, he escorts me to the car. Conversation stops when we arrive with the group and I pray Morgan doesn’t say anything to insult him.
“Thanks for keeping me safe, Rowdy. Have a good night.”
My friend stands there, watching us all climb into the car and fasten our seat belts before he turns and walks off into the night. His kindness almost makes me forget how frightened I was just minutes ago.
Chapter 7
Sophia
Morgan and I escaped for the weekend and I’ve not felt this relaxed in months. Following my freak out at the theater, venturing out wasn’t possible. I avoided doing anything social, instead focusing on my studies and preparing for graduation. As the days turned to weeks the concern of my friends and housemates was obvious. I’m an outgoing and social person.
Hiking and running have been vital to my mental health and stress over the years. A means for me to handle my anxiety. Being housebound by fear and not doing either activity sent my mental health plummeting and my stress level to an ultimate high.
It feels great to be outside and in the fresh air. To not be looking over my shoulder or feeling like I’m being watched. Lack of cell reception is a bonus.
“Is it possible for your insides to eat themselves?” Morgan groans as we approach the main drag of the small island.
“Yes. It’s scientifically proven to occur mostly when you whine for twenty minutes about said self-eating.”
Looks, like the one she’s throwing my direction, would frighten a stranger but to me it’s just her regular pre-breakfast and coffee face. I start laughing and she flips me off in response. It feels good to be back in our normal rhythm. Morgan sacrificed so much of her final semester and every social event on the calendar to keep me company, to ensure I’ve not been alone. Breakfast is the least I can do.
“Finally! Our savior. Do you smell that, Soph? Liquid gold and grease.” Her tone is dreamy like the leading lady in a regency romance on cable.
Following her into the small diner, I inhale the aromas she mentioned. There’s just something perfect about a small town diner. Everything smells better. Maybe it’s the way the familiar scent of bacon mingles with the sweetness of syrup but whatever the reason, my stomach begins to grumble and my need for sustenance is grave.
“Good morning, girls. Sit anywhere you like,” the gentleman behind the counter shouts as he mans the register.
Morgan and I move to a small booth for two along the window and flip the overturned coffee cups in unison. As I peruse the menu, contemplating between an omelet topped in crab or stuffed French toast I feel eyes on me. This time, it isn’t from behind me or in the distance. The vibe is coming from across the table.
“What?”
Tilting her head and squinting her eyes like it’ll help her see something clearer, Morgan says, “I’m worried about you.”
She’s worried about me? Join the club. “I think we can agree we’re all worried about me. Hopefully with families invading campus next week and the ceremony on Saturday, it’ll all be behind me.”
“Maybe we aren’t moving far enough away.Youaren’t moving far enough away.”
Before I can respond, a teenage girl stops at our table to take our order and fill our coffee cups. Once she’s gone, I turn my attention back to my best friend. “Are you saying you don’t feel comfortable living together?”
A different fear grips me than what I’ve been facing. Morgan and I have had these plans to live in Seattle for years. Both of us could move back home but we want to make a go of a life in the city. Maybe we’ve watched too muchSex and the Cityor it’s because we both come from comfortable upbringings and it would be easy to fall into the same patterns of our parents and childhood friends. Maybe I’ll end up back in my hometown, but for now, I want to have adventures and new experiences.
“Ohmygod, no! That’s a horrible thing to say, Sophia.”
Relief washes through me but her statement still eats at me. “Then what? You said maybe I’m not moving far enough away.”
“I worry this guy is going to follow you. We’re only going to be an hour from campus. It’s close enough that he could run into you, or even me, out and about. What if he follows me to get to you? I just worry is all.”
“The texts have slowed to only a few a week. Actually last week I only received one on Monday. Maybe he gave up. I’ve been vigilant and never alone. I bet he’s moved on. Not that I wish that on someone else, but still, it’s likely at this point.”
At least that’s what I tell myself. Something I didn’t share with Morgan this weekend is that while I’m not ready to change my phone number, I will take the steps necessary to erase as much of my public persona as possible.
“One of the podcasts I listened to had an episode solely about de-escalation of a stalker. From what I understand, there can be these lulls with them.”
“See, nothing to worry about. He’s de-escalating,” I say confidently.
Our meals are placed in front of us before she can comment. We both thank the server and then Morgan dumps cold water over me. “That’s the thing, it’s sometimes a way to throw you off so you drop your guard. The problem we have is we don’t know what type of stalker you have. Is it someone you dated? A stranger? An acquaintance? A friend?”
“There is no way someone we know would do this to me.” Tears begin to fall. Morgan reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. Sniffling and swiping at my wet cheeks, I take a deep breath. “I need to believe it’s over, Morgan. I cannot continue to live like this. I’m a shell of a person. I’m scared every day. I’m not sleeping and every sound frightens me. Will I ever feel safe again?”
