Page 9 of Haunting Me

For the first time in months, I allowed myself to sleep. With my girl in my arms, my mind and body finally relax. Soon I will have to share the deepest, darkest parts of me with her. She may run. Too bad for her. I love the chase. Layne is mine. I’ll never let her go.

Chapter six

L A Y N E

The cool morning air from the bay blows into the apartment from the open window. My eyes shoot open and I feel Wes’s warm body pressed against me. He stayed. I half expected him to leave in the early hours of the morning. I slip out of bed and walk towards the bathroom, my bare feet cold on the hardwood floor. The door creaks as I close it to pee. I’m hoping the sound doesn’t wake him up. Toilet paper in hand, I go to wipe and the door creaks open, thinking it’s the breeze, I pay it no mind.

"Thought you could sneak away while I slept?" he cooed in a raspy morning voice. I practically jump out of my skin as he enters the bathroom.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Wes! I’m just peeing. I can’t do that alone?” I squeak.

His eyes stay on me as I finish up. It still hurts a lot, and there's still some blood. Without pain relievers, I doubt I'll feel comfortable today. Without speaking, Wes hands me a glass he just filled next to the sink. He unscrews the medicine bottle and drops two pills into my palm. I examined the pills, the same ones that sat on my bedside table yesterday morning.

“You left me water and medicine yesterday morning,” realizing the kind gesture and my initial reaction to it, “That was very sweet of you.”

He leans down and kisses my forehead. “Get dressed and ready. We need food.” I am not usually up this early. While standing in front of the bathroom mirror, I brush my teeth and adjust my hair. Once out of the bathroom, I pull out clothes from my dresser. Wes leaves the door to the bathroom open, peeing while in there.

“New toothbrush under the sink. It’s yours now.” I call out to him.

I can hear him digging in the cabinet. A smile spreads across my face, knowing that he is serious about this situation.

Dammit, Layne, don’t get too attached. He is your stalker; you don’t know him. Don't assume he'll always be sweet just because he took your virginity.

I replay last night repeatedly in my head. The sounds he made will forever be my favorite noise. Wes walks out of the bathroom in just his boxers and I can’t help but stare. He is beautiful, with his body covered in ink, tall and lean, but with just enough muscle to know he could throw me around.

Wes heads towards the couch to put his pants and shirt back on. In a black mid-thigh dress and knee-high socks, I came into the room with my knife harness. I slip into my sneakers and put my foot up on the couch so I can strap my harness on.

Wes grabs the harness from me. “Ma Petite Mort, you don’t need these when I am with you. I’ll protect you.”

I catch myself before I roll my eyes at him. “A girl can’t be too safe in S.F. Even if she has a scary stalker with her.”

He bends down and straps it to my thigh for me. Down on his knees, looking up at me, he places a tender kiss on the thigh. He gets up and drags me by the hand towards the door. The window was still open, and I gestured towards it.

“Do you think another stalker is going to sneak in while we're gone, Layne?” He laughed. As he backs away to close the window, I give him a gentle smack on the chest.

After closing and locking it, he makes his way back to me and takes my hand back in his. I lock up the apartment and we head down the stairs. After two blocks, we arrived at a black classic car. “Why the hell did you park so far away?”

Wes opens the passenger door for me, lowering me down into the seat. “Force of habit. This is where I would park when I would come to watch you.” He says shrugging his shoulders.

“Park in the alley. That’s where the owner said I could park. If I ever end up getting a car.” I said.

It’s only nine in the morning. Wes pulls his car into the parking lot of a small diner. Yes! At least he knows that greasy food is a necessity this early in the morning. Even though I didn’t drink last night, I am freaking starving and can demolish a plate of French toast right now. We locked the car and entered the diner, where an older woman greeted us and sat us next to the window.

“So, is this like our first date?” I joke as I look over the menu.

“Aw, am I growing on you, Ma Petite Mort? Nah, I’ll just take you down to the courthouse and marry you. First and last date done.” A side-smirk etched on his face.

My eyes widen and I whisper, “Oh my God!” He doesn’t laugh. "Fuck," I say to myself, trying to make sense of whether he was being serious. The returning waitress takes our order and sets down cups of coffee. I reach for the cream and sugar and add four of each. Wes picks up the mug of black coffee and takes a sip.

“You're a psychopath as well, I see.” I said. He puts the cup back down and stares at me with a look of confusion. “Black coffee? Really?” He laughs not just a light chuckle. I’m talking a full-on deep belly laugh, one that makes the corners of his eyes squint.

“If anyone is the psychopath, it’s you, my dear. How much cream and sugar do you need?” He continues to laugh.

My phone beeps in my pocket and I pull it out. Three unread texts from Atlas.

ATLAS: Bitch, did you make it home okay?

ATLAS: You are probably not up yet, but In Flames is doing a show tonight at the Warfield if you want to hit that up. I can grab some discounted tickets.

---