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He nods but says nothing, like he knows I won’t leave because I have too many questions.
“Why are you stalking me? How did you find me? How did you get my phone number?” I rattle off a few in rapid succession.
“I’ve always known where you are, Jess,” he replies, his eyes never leaving mine.
“That’s a little freaky and stalkerish, wouldn’t you say? Watched one too many Dexter episodes?” It appears when faced with an uncomfortable situation, I rely on my inner smartass to do the talking.
Again with the laughing, why is this so funny to him?
“No, Jess, you are my alma gemela, my soulmate. I’ve always known where you are.” His reply comes out like this is an everyday thing in his world. Soulmates? Really? Did he think that one would go right over my head?
And on that note, that’s my cue to leave. I stand and head toward the door, only to realize once I get there that I don’t have my purse on me. I turn to retrieve it when he hands it to me.
“You’re free to go, but I wish you wouldn’t. I didn’t mean to scare you. I hope in time you’ll allow me to explain,” his eyes plead with mine to understand, but at this moment in time I lack the ability to do so. It’s best to leave now, sort out my thoughts and deal with this when I’m in a saner state of mind.
How can he be so calm about this? Doesn’t he understand how insanely ridiculous his words are? This isn’t normal behavior. Soulmates? There’s no such thing and I sure as hell don’t want someone in my life that knows what I’m thinking or doing or where I’m at all the time. Takes away freewill and any freedoms I have.
I take a step back and he gestures to the bed, wanting me to take a seat though I wait for him to sit first—like that makes any difference, but somewhere in my mind it does. He walks over to his desk and pulls out the chair and sits. Satisfied with that, I move to sit on the bed and clutch my purse to my chest in case the need for a quick exit presents itself. He tosses my mace on the bed beside me, hurriedly I grab it like a lifeline.
“I think you owe me an explanation. I have stalking and kidnapping charges to file so you’d better start talking before I call 9-1-1,” I advise with shaky breath.
He grins, likely at my ridiculous antics. “Jess, do you believe in love at first sight? That there’s one true love for everyone?”
“I would like to believe that, but reality and the high divorce rate leads me to believe otherwise.” Boy, my attitude is relentless when it comes to this man. He really triggers my inner bitch.
Ignoring my snide remark, he continues. “I’m a believer. I’ve loved you since the day we met. Do you remember that first day in kindergarten?”
How could anyone love someone in kindergarten? If memory serves me correctly, I had an unnatural love for the fruit-scented markers on the tables as well as for eating paste. Okay, I know what you’re thinking—sick—but it was kindergarten after all and maybe the fruit markers got me a little high. Maybe that’s why I munched on a bottle or two of paste.
“For someone who says he loves me, you have a funny way of showing it. As I recall, you were the one who took off in seventh grade without warning. Not a note, a phone call, nothing. Where’ve you been all this time and why have you chosen now to resurface?” My voice escalates with each word, the anger and hurt I’d felt all these years storming the gates and lashing out.
“I’m different than you, Jess. My family is not the same as yours.”
“And? No two families are the same. Take mine for instance, my mother is a bitch who can’t love anyone but herself and my father has chosen to be my mother’s personal slave, catering to her every whim. What the hell does that have to do with you disappearing without so much as a note?” At this point, I;m shouting. So many emotions flow through me, all battling to be at the front.
He rises from his seat and takes a seat beside me. “I’m not here to hurt you. It’s quite the opposite actually. I’m here to protect you and take care of you,” he says in true stalker fashion.
I puff up my chest like a proud peacock. “I can take care of myself, thanks.” What am I, some helpless female?
“Yes, I remember that night you were so brave and independent that you walked out to your car without a care in the world. Even though four guys stood beside it? That was very brave indeed,” he says with much contention.
“How do you know about that? I’ve never shared that with anyone.” My god, this night is a fucking roller coaster. One minute I’m up with my heart in my throat, the next I’m somewhat calm. I’ll surely have a heartattack before the night is over.
“Because I was there, I was the one who stopped them from raping you.”
Every ounce of breath liberates itself from my body. “How did you know what they were going to do?”
He pauses for a moment, I’m sure selectively choosing his response to keep me from freaking out again. “I could sense their thoughts. The largest of the four men had no soul.”
“No soul?”
He touches my shoulder and I move out of reach. “Are you okay?” he asks me.
“I thought you could read minds? If that were true then you would already know the answer to that question.” Now I’m full-on pissed. This conversation is quickly going downhill.
“I can’t read minds, per se, but one’s body language gives way to their thoughts more times than not. On top of which the fact that they were ripping off your clothes while he undid your pants spelled it out,” he growls the last words.
It occurs to me that I’ve only had two boyfriends, David and Luke. I’ve always shut everyone out or pushed them away so I never had to feel anything or know what it was like to be rejected. Maybe part of that was due to David’s disappearance, maybe I pushed him away. Right after he left, I drifted more inside myself, abstaining from human contact. I guess his leaving scarred me deeper than I realized.
