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Not giving a shit if he means me harm or not, I bolt for the stairs. I don’t see him move nor do I hear his footfalls, but I continue to sprint anyway. I can only hope I’m just being paranoid.
Once I make it to my apartment, I lock the guard door and the interior door before dropping my head against the wall.
Fucking hell. We need to get out of this neighborhood once and for all. I’ve been here all my life but lately it’s taken a crazy drop in crime.
There’s been a string of missing girls and with the perpetrator not leaving enough evidence behind, most of the cases have started to go cold.
Once my breathing slows and my adrenaline seeps from my body, I turn towards the kitchen with plans to make hot cocoa to help me sleep.
I open the fridge for the milk but my eyes land on the bottle of Tequila. It’ll be less work to just drink that and crash.
I grab the bottle of liquor and head to my bed. Today was a shit day that has my mind and body in a funk. First Leo and now the dumpster fucker scaring me… so done with this day.
To be honest though, all the blame can go to Leo. If he hadn’t fucked with my head today, I wouldn’t be seeing danger around every corner.
Hell, the guy in the shadows was probably just one of the neighbors and now he most likely thinks I’m a fucking lunatic.
Dropping onto the bed, I grab my phone from the windowsill and search through my playlists. Finding my shower-time list, I hit play as I twist the top off the bottle and tip it to my lips.
Ignoring the bitter taste, I swallow down two big drinks and recap it before grabbing my clothes and heading for the shower.
On my way past, I throw the finger at the thermostat like it and Leo are buddies and it'll relay the message.
I think the liquor is hitting me.
I quickly take a shower and by the time I have my long hair wrapped in a towel with a robe around my body, half an hour has passed and I'm feeling a little sleepy.
Getting to the bed, I take a couple more drinks so I can get a few hours of sleep.
I leave my hair in the towel and climb under the thick blankets and watch the moon shine over the city.
I love Chicago, the city of big shoulders and boisterous characters. Sure, there's some shady areas, and people to match, but name one place that doesn't have its flaws.
Swiping my phone open, I click on a new song. As 'Meant to Be' by KNOWN and Powfu begins its lofi beat, I close my eyes and sway my fingers like I'm the one conducting the soothing melody.
The music pauses for a second, letting me know I have an incoming message.
The number isn’t under Leo’s name, yes, I saved his number into my contacts but it’s only because I wanted to make sure I never accidentally answer his call.
Riiiight, bitch.
Rolling my eyes at myself, I open the text.
Unknown number:Do you like it rough?
My teeth grind as my stomach pushes bile up my throat. Is this Leo? Is this how he talks to women he doesn’t know or is this someone with the wrong number?
Me:I think you have the wrong number.
My stomach twists and I have the urge to look under my bed and in all the dark corners of the apartment.
Part of me hopes this is some fucked up prank, but I’d have to have some friends for that to be the case.
Working to help ma carry the load of life has left me without a steady group of friends. I just don’t seem to have the kind of life that has room for friends.
Right now, I wish I had them, and they were just fucking with me.
The other part of me knows, this is the creeper from downstairs.
