Page 8 of Pursued

“No worries. End of the year and venturing into being an actual adult has been overwhelming.”

I’d love to tell Colin what’s going on but Morgan and I decided since we don’t know who is bothering me, it may be best to keep the number of people who know about this to a minimum. Morgan was right about going to the local police. They took my statement and made an official record of my concerns. At least now, if something happens, there will be a record of an existing situation. Jeremiah and Maribel were shocked when I confided in them but completely supportive. Without asking, one of them keeps in constant contact with me to make sure I’m okay.

Looking at my phone I note the time and say, “Ten minutes to showtime. I should probably—”

“Sophia Brooks?”

Colin and I both turn to the girl calling my name. I stand stock-still while Colin shouts an acknowledgement over the noise. In her hands is a flower arrangement not unlike the one I received weeks ago. My heart battles my gut. I want to believe they are not being delivered with a dark cloud over them. I need them to be from my friends or parents.

When the young girl steps up, a huge grin on her face and the bright yellow hat on her head like a sunflower itself, I try to muster some sort of positive look on my face but as her smile drops I know I’ve failed.

“Let me take those,” Colin offers.

“The card,” I murmur barely above a whisper. Colin plucks the card from the plastic stick and hands it to me.

Looking down at my trembling hands, I open the envelope and force my eyes to focus on the words.

“Congratulations on your final show. We are so proud of you. Love, Mom & Dad.”

Tears cloud my eyes as Colin stands awkwardly next to me. The moment is overwhelming and I know I’ve made him uncomfortable. I hate the person who has made me feel like I cannot even accept a gift of love from my parents. That my instinct is to assume something nefarious.

“Can you hold those for one second?” I ask while slipping my phone from my back pocket. I shoot off a quick text to Morgan to meet me near the side stage entrance.

“Thanks, Colin. I’ll be right back.”

Taking the flowers, I rush across backstage and only hesitate for a beat as I step into the dark. The house lights are dimming, signaling for everyone to prepare for the show. Standing here, I tug on my lower lip for what feels like an eternity while I wait for Morgan. A strange feeling prickles at the back of my neck. Tiny hairs feel like they are standing on end not unlike when there is static in the air.

I turn from left to right and confirm I’m alone, but still, the feeling remains. When a hand touches my arm, I jump and my hand flies to my mouth, muffling a scream. Applause fill the theatre as the curtain rises and my eyes fly to Morgan. Her eyes are wide as she mouths, “I’m sorry.”

Willing my heart to calm, I step down and hand the flowers to her. Brows furrowed, she looks from the flowers to me. “My parents,” I offer with a smile.

Morgan’s shoulders drop and the relief is evident. She takes the arrangement and moves to return to her seat while I step back up to the stage area. The feeling of someone being nearby is still here, but I have no time to waste. Tonight is about the last opening night of my college life.

The show goes off with only a minor hitch. Thankfully it was a wardrobe issue and nothing related to the set. I’m proud of this crew and all we’ve done these last four years. Colin and I share a hug and a celebratory glass of cider before going our separate ways. We have three more performances so it isn’t time to say our goodbyes.

With all of my things secured in my large tote, I wave goodbye and head to the back door where Morgan, Jeremiah, and Maribel are waiting. Stepping out into the crisp night feels good on my warm skin. The bright lights and swarms of people keep the temperature backstage higher than normal.

“There you are. I text you like fifteen minutes ago. We’re starving!”

“You’re always starving, Jer.” I reach for my phone and realize it isn’t in my pocket. Annoyed with myself, I rummage through my bag and still don’t see my phone. “Shit. I must have left my phone inside. Take this bag and let me run in and grab it. Call it in about two minutes so I can hear it ring.”

Before anyone can argue, I sprint toward the door and into the theater. The crowd has disbursed but I can hear a few quiet conversations and equipment being shifted. I try to remember where I had my phone last and rush to the back corner where we are storing the fake rocks. I’m within a few steps when I hear the ring.

Then I sense it. The hairs on the back of my neck standing high. Lights dim and suddenly I’m standing alone in the near dark. Maybe that’s what is bringing out my fear. It was nice to be immersed in the performance for two hours but now, reality rears its ugly head. I’m here alone and someone is trying to get my attention.

Quickly, I scour the area for my phone and as it rings again, the screen illuminates and I snag it off the ground. Retracing my steps I’m halfway to the door when I hear something fall to my right. Instinctively, I stop to look. My breathing picks up when I see a shadow. It could be a piece of the set or even a wardrobe bust. But it could also be a person.

I rush across the stage and out the door, my heart beating fast as I slam into someone. Bouncing back, I gasp and look up.

“Rowdy,” I say with relief.

“Hi Sophia. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I just freaked myself out. Sorry for running into you.” My words are choppy as I catch my breath. Rowdy bends down so we’re eye to eye. He searches my face. Some may have an issue with him invading their personal space but for me, I’m so grateful to have a friendly face looking at me that I don’t care.

“Would you like me to escort you? It’s not safe to be walking alone.”

“That’s okay, my friends are over there,” I say, pointing in their direction.

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