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And I’d slept through it, blissfully unaware.
A strange, awful thing to not feel safe in your own room. It made my skin crawl and itch something fierce, and before I knew what I was doing, I was rushing out of my room and heading to the stairs after grabbing my phone off the nightstand. In the darkness, I managed not to trip, and I made it to the front door, where I’d hung my car keys next to my parents’ on a small metal hook on the wall. I slipped my shoes on and was out the door the next second.
I was tired. So tired of feeling like I always had to look over my shoulder, so tired of the unknown. I didn’t think I was pretty enough to merit a stalker. I was just a normal girl. On the shorter side, maybe even too thin. My eyes weren’t anything to write home about, and my hair was brown, just like my eyes, the color of hard, constipated shit. I didn’t hook up with random guys, never led anyone on.
I was so tired of this. I wanted it to be over.
So, I unlocked my car, got in, and drove away, not knowing where I was going. I didn’t even grab my wallet with my ID, so if I got pulled over, I’d get in some trouble. But, you know what? I didn’t care. I didn’t fucking care.
I think, when I got in that car, a part of me wanted whoever it was to still be around, to get in their own car and follow me. It was time. I couldn’t go on with the unknown and the uncertainty; I needed to know who it was so I could rest easy.
The problem was, I didn’t know who it could be, but breaking into my room and watching me sleep, drawing a freaking picture of me while I was fast asleep, was crossing a line. And if this person broke in once, they’d do it again. They’d get more and more bold until…
Well, until they got what they wanted: me.
It still sounded stupid. I mean, whoever it was had plenty of better-looking girls to stalk. There was nothing stalk-worthy about me.
But no cars followed me. I was alone, alone in my old, tiny yet dependable car.
Hours passed. I left Youngsville a while ago. I didn’t know what to do. My hands gripped the wheel hard, so hard my knuckles were probably white—couldn’t really tell in the darkness. I supposed driving somewhere was better than the other thing I tended to do when things got overwhelming, but it’d been a long time since then. I liked to think I was better.
Better, more sane, less prone to emotional fits where I lost my shit.
I looked normal from the outside, but on the inside, I wasn’t nearly as put together. If you stared close, you could see the cracks in me, the wounds, the scars of old secrets I never told a soul. Sometimes things were easier that way.
I could drive and drive until I couldn’t go any more, but I think it was time to turn around and go home. And, since I didn’t have my wallet, if I ran out of gas here in the middle of nowhere, I’d have to call someone to come help, and then I’d have to explain why I was out in the middle of nowhere without my wallet—and therefore unable to buy another tank of gas myself.
Heaving a sigh, I told my phone to give me directions home, and as it calculated the quickest route, I drove around a curve. I hadn’t seen any other car on the road for a while; the road I was on had no edge lines, and what little paint there was in the middle was old and mostly worn-off. My eyes glanced down at my phone to see how long it’d take to get home.
Fuck. I think running out of gas was a definite.
I wasn’t looking down for that long. I know, I know, distracted driving kills and all that, but since it was so late at night, I didn’t think I’d see anyone else on the road.
I was wrong.
When I looked up, a hunched over figure stood in my lane. I didn’t have time to brake or swerve. I was going too fast. The moment my foot hit the brake pedal, I hit the figure. It all happened so quickly, I couldn’t even tell if it was a man or a woman. Whoever it was went up and over my car, rolling over the hood and top before falling to the pavement behind the vehicle.
My brakes screeched in the air, and the moment I came to a halt, I held my breath.
Oh, my God. Did I just hit someone? Did I… did I kill them?
Damn it. Could this night get any worse?
I shakily put the car in park and adjusted the rearview mirror to see the figure laying on the pavement. The person was on their side, and they weren’t moving. All I could see was their back.
I didn’t know what to do. If that person was dead, that meant I killed them, but why were they out here in the first place? This was literally the middle of nowhere. Anyone with half a brain knew not to wander in the middle of the road right after a bend.
In spite of the instinct I had to just keep driving, I unbuckled my seatbelt and got out of the car. I faced the figure on the pavement fifty feet back, and I ran my hands along my sides to wipe off the sweat. I approached the figure slowly, and the closer I got, the more I was sure it was a man.
The back was wide, the shoulders even wider. Strong, muscular. Impressive even when hunched over like this.
I bit my bottom lip as I walked around the man and knelt before him. He was on his side, cradling his stomach, but I could see, even in the darkness, with nothing but the light of my car and the moon above our heads that he was bleeding—and based on the amount of blood on his shirt, he was bleeding a hell of a lot.
“Hey,” I said lamely, setting a hand on his arm. “You, uh, okay there, buddy?” It was a good thing he was either dead or unconscious, because that was a stupid thing to say to a random guy you’d just hit with your car.
His skin was pretty cold. If he wasn’t dead now, he sure as hell felt like he’d be dead soon.
He probably wouldn’t be able to wait for an ambulance. He’d probably die before then, and I sure as hell couldn’t stick around and wait. I didn’t want to get arrested for involuntary manslaughter or whatever it was called. I had to leave. I had to.
