Page 50 of Texting Dr. Stalker

I flipped him the bird as I headed down the corridor.

* 15 *

Sailor

Haunted and Hunted

“GOODNIGHT, LILS. CONGRATULATIONS AGAIN!”

Lily gave me a wobbly wave as she headed down the drive to the Uber waiting on the street. She’d closed a deal on a million-dollar house yesterday. With the commission she’d earn, she had enough to buy the piece of land she’d been eyeing up ever since she decided to scrimp and save every penny to become a developer and not just a real estate agent.

She hiccupped and whisper-shouted, “The night is young. You sure you won’t come with us into town? Steph and I will look after you. Find you a nice, respectful boy who will treat you right.”

I laughed and went to close my front door. “Nah, you guys have fun. I’ve had enough drinking for one night.”

Which is true.

We’d made mojitos with fresh mint and basil from the garden, plenty of crushed ice, and far,fartoo many shots. I was tipsy and while Lily had been here, it’d been fun, but now she was leaving, the house settled silent and empty around me.

In the shadows, the nightmares got ready to swarm.

Brushing down my jeans and blossom printed blouse, ignoring my still tender bruises, I needed her gone before I revealed just how badly I wasn’t coping.

“Byeeee!” I waved as she slipped into the Uber. “Be safe.”

“Talk to you tomorrow!” She slammed the door. I waited until her ride pulled away. Only once the taillights rounded the end of the street did I back up, lock up, and pad barefoot through the house.

I avoided the living room and refused to look at the carpet between the couch and the coffee table. Already, Milton’s phantom fingers squeezed around my throat, stealing my newly healed voice and making me wish I hadn’t drunk at all.

The house cracked as it cooled for the night.

I jumped so high, I bumped my toe on the skirting board.

“Ow, ow,ow.” Hissing between my teeth, I stood in the spine of the home and did my best to remember only good times. Of Nana baking apple pies and Pops doing a jigsaw puzzle at the dining room table. Not Milton kicking me from room to room or his sick laughter as I bled from his punches.

It’s in the past.

He’s not here.

You’re fine.

I should’ve been better by now.

But I had a horrible feeling I was getting worse.

The house creaked again.

A shadow caught the corner of my eye. A shadow that looked horribly like Milton stalking me from the living room.

Get out.

Now.

With a cry, I spun on my toes and bolted out the front door.

Without thinking, I ran down the street, not looking back, not able to think about anything but getting far, far away from…

He’s not real.

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