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Esme:Kinda. I’m fine, really.
TwistOfFate43:So, tell me, how much money do you need?
Esme felt weird about this. She’d never had a chat with a fan like this before. And there was something dirty about the thought of doing it for money. She couldn’t help but feel like she was using TwistOfFate43.
Esme:Honestly, I’m OK. I don’t need money.
It felt like, for once, she was taking control of the situation. She didn’t want to ask people for money, not like this. She was going to do something else.
TwistOfFate43:I can afford it, sweetheart.
She really didn’t like to be called sweetheart by a stranger. It was making her skin crawl. Everything about this felt wrong.
Esme:Thanks, I appreciate it, but I’m gonna say no. I’m rethinking a lot of stuff right now.
TwistOfFate43:Do you want me to come over?
Esme’s heart nearly jumped out of her chest when she read this message.
Esme:Um, that’s a bit scary.
TwistOfFate43:It’s not. I can be round in like five minutes.
Esme:How do you know where I live?
TwistOfFate43:I have my ways lol.
Esme was not laughing. This guy was five minutes away from her? And he knew where she lived? She’d been so careful about not giving away her location online. There were so many horror stories about e-stalkers and chatroom perverts. She didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but this was seriously, seriously freaking her out.
TwistOfFate43:I’ll head over.
Esme:No. Seriously. No.
TwistOfFate43:Why not?
Esme:My boyfriend’s here. He wouldn’t like it.
TwistOfFate43:Haha, you don’t have a boyfriend.
Her heart was pounding. Maybe TwistOfFate43 was on his phone, walking toward Esme’s house right now.
Esme:Please don’t come here.
TwistOfFate43:It would be good for us to meet. Stop being such a pricktease.
Panicking, completely unsure what to do, Esme suddenly thought of Rainer. He’d looked after her when she’d needed it last time. She trusted him.
Without thinking about anything else, she grabbed her bag, left her computer on, and headed out to her scooter. She started the engine but was in too much of a rush to even consider wearing her helmet.
It was only after she’d been on the road for a couple of minutes that she realized that she had no idea how to get to Rainer’s place. At an intersection, she felt her heart racing. It was like she was trapped in a tunnel and her anxiety was building to a ferocious peak.
She accelerated without looking, and that’s when she hit something. Something hard, and big, and familiar. She shot from the scooter, skidded along the ground, and looked up into the dark New York evening. Lights coalesced into blurry smears, and she saw a concerned-looking face enter her vision.
“Rainer?” she said woozily, before the lights dimmed and went out.
CHAPTER THREE
Esme’sdreamswerenotgood. Images stuck with her: people crying, the feeling of collision, a persistent, throbbing pain in her head.
