Page 40 of Texting Dr. Stalker

And I lied to Jim when he asked if everything was okay when we were out pruning the rose bushes last night.

All of them had bought my lies, but I couldn’t buy the ones I told myself.

I lay in bed for three nights, convincing myself that I would never reply to the crazy man who’d given me the phone again. It wasn’t acceptable to hand-deliver a cell phone and tell me he could be my little secret. That was wrong. Very,verywrong.

And yet…

Whenever I woke in the dead of night, all alone and curled in the corner of my bedroom—so, so sure I’d heard a key in the front door and Milton was back to finish what he started—all I had to do was look at that small black phone, and I’d find the strength to get up and check all the doors without turning on all the lights.

I took it with me that first night as I opened all the cupboards and checked behind every door. I kept it in my pocket as I painted and stared at it for hours, unable to fall asleep.

He hadn’t messaged again.

And the fact that he hadn’t slowly grew from relief into frustration.

He was the one to barge into my life.

Hewas the one to frighten me with his faceless forwardness.

But he’d also done something I didn’t think was possible.

He’d broken up the shadows, just a little, and I no longer felt so suffocated.

He’s watching me.

I huddled on the couch, staring at the old square television that I still needed to replace. Nana had never been one for technology unless it benefited herFrom Soil to Soulbusiness, and she’d never bothered to upgrade her TV for a flatscreen.

I watched most things on my tablet, so the huge ancient box flickered in the corner, fuzzy and snowy, dancing light around the living room.

Scrolling through the message thread, I tried to make sense of why I wasn’t as bothered about the fact that he was watching me as I should have been. I didn’t know him. He could be just as dangerous as Milton…worse even.

So why did I feel protected instead of threatened?

Why did I search all the nooks and crannies of my garden to find a camera—not to remove it—but to make sure he wasn’t lying?

Ugh, this is ridiculous. You’re ridiculous. Stop this nonsense right now.

His last message glowed on the screen.

X:I use it to make sure you’re safe. That’s all.

I’d lost track how many times I’d read it. Each time, I found myself losing the initial understandable reaction of feeling violated, heading toward the incomprehensible feeling of safety.

Tapping the screen to make the keyboard pop up, I hovered my thumbs in place.

Don’t you dare.

I sighed and slouched.

No, I really shouldn’t.

Glancing at the time, wincing that two a.m. had rolled around and I still wasn’t in bed, I did the adult thing and turned off the screen. Hauling myself upright, I padded barefoot toward the stairs.

I was proud of myself.

I’d withheld against growing temptation to message him for another night.

A few more days and the feeling would pass. I could throw the phone away, and life would continue as normal.

---