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I nod, twirling my fingers together.
"Thank you," I respond lightly.
The second he leaves, I'll cry about how I almost ruined his life, and even though he seems incredibly nice, I can tell he wants nothing more than to just leave. But his kindness perseveres. Or that insistent need to make sure he walks away guilt-free.
“You need me to call anyone?”
I smile and shake my head. “I know that looked bad, but I promise I wasn’t going to jump.”
His shoulders fall an inch, and his face smooths out in relief.
"Good,” he says, nodding. He starts to turn but then stops. “Oh, there's a bouquet of roses waiting out there for you."
My heart stops for a solid five seconds before it kicks into high gear and climbs its way up my throat.
"W-what? From who?"
He shrugs a shoulder. "I don't know. They were there when we came back from lunch earlier. Forgot about 'em until just now. I can go grab the—"
"That's okay!" I cut in hastily. His teeth click shut, and another weird look passes on his face. This man definitely thinks I’m a nutcase.
He nods again with one last concerned glance before turning and walking back towards the front of the manor. Releasing a weighted sigh, I wait until he disappears from view before making my own way back.
It would’ve felt weird walking behind him—two people heading in the same direction that have no interest in talking to each other.
Gives me the heebie jeebies.
When I make my way around to the front of the house, I first stop to admire how beautiful the new black porch looks. The exterior has been refreshened—still all black, but with brand new siding and fresh paint. I kept the vines and cleaned the gargoyles, and though the stone is chipped and weathered, it only adds character to the haunting manor. Seems my taste isn’t any more rainbows and sunshine than my predecessors.
Then my eyes jump to the bouquet of red flowers perched against the door. It looks like they were placed there by one of the crew members—assuming they didn’t want to enter my house without my permission.
My eyes skirt the property. The sun’s rays are nearly gone, and I can't see a damn thing five feet past the tree line. If someone is beyond that point, they could be watching me, and I would be none the wiser.
Feeling a tad more urgent, I scoop up the roses, rush inside, slam the door, and lock it. Nestled neatly in the bouquet is a single black card. From my view, I can see some type of gold calligraphy scrawled across it.
My eyes widen, wary of the note. It’ll be the first real communication I’ve gotten from the stalker. Part of me has been waiting anxiously for it, hoping they’ll tell me what they want from me.
And now that it’s here, I want to tear it to pieces and live in blissful ignorance.
Screw it, I’ll probably die from regret and curiosity if I don’t read it.
Plucking the card out with shaking hands, I open it and read:
I'll be seeing you soon, little mouse.
Okay, I could’ve lived without seeing this.
I mean, little mouse? This is obviously a man stalking me, and he must be cracked in the fucking head. Clearly, he is.
Disgusted, I slide my phone from my back pocket and call the police. I really don't want to deal with them tonight, but I need to report this.
I’m not naïve enough to think they’ll save me from the shadow that’s attached itself to me, but I’ll be damned if I become some unsolved mystery if I die.
A gentle, but firm knock vibrates my front door. It’s almost becoming an instinct for my heart to skip a few be
ats whenever I hear any noise in the manor.
Surely, that can’t be healthy. Maybe I’ll eat some Cheerios. They say those are good for the heart, right?
