Page 18 of Haunt Me

Chapter 12

Starlet

Ibrought Chloe upto speed about the whole Zavier situation and how he just popped up out of nowhere like a sick magic trick. She’s never been a fan of him, always claimed he gave her the creeps. I don’t blame her, his aura is something of a corpse. When we met, he was the sweetest guy, bought me flowers, special dinners, the works – he even accepted the fact that I didn’t want to be intimate yet, which I thought was amazing of him.

But later in our relationship, he changed, he got possessive, and not the hot kind—the sick kind of possession. He would snap at me for every little inconvenience, which would result in me cryingmyself to sleep while he went out to ‘cool off’ —whatever that meant. As time passed, he started getting physically abusive. First, it started by pushing me around and violently grabbing me so that I would have bruises for days and I had to make up excuses on how I got them. Then it got worse, he started slapping me around, calling me useless, worthless, and so much more. He would always make sure I knew that he was the only one that would love me and I should be grateful that I was still in his life.

The king of manipulation.

What finally broke me and realized I had to get out was the night he attacked me.

He grabbed my hair and slammed me against every wall, breaking almost everything that I owned, and the punching—it felt like I was trapped in a violent boxing match, with no escape. At that moment, I knew he was capable of killing me if I didn’t do something. I called the police after he stormed out and they arrested him. He got bail with some miracle and I never saw him again—well until he showed up out of the blue a few days ago.

I’m currently working a shift at the diner and it’s pretty quiet tonight—maybe I’ll ask Bobby if I can leave early.

I need some serious TLC.

Just when I thought I was having a good day, Zavier comes strolling in and my stomach drops. Summoning every ounce of courage, I approach his table, “Evening, what will it be?” I ask with a forced smile. His response made me physically sick to my stomach.

“Hey Star, actually, I came to see you.” His response made me physically sick to my stomach.

“Me? Um, what for?” I stutter, my voice trembling.

“I wanted to know if we can have lunch sometime,” he states. “I want to talk about how things ended between us.”

I know if I agree, I’m going to regret it, but if I say no—I’m too scared to find out what he might do. He never accepted the answer 'no'.

With a shaky voice, I manage to say, “Uh, okay, sure.” I try to force a smile, but it feels hollow as if I’m on the verge of being sick.

“Great!” he exclaims with a wide smile that has my skin crawling.

“Does tomorrow afternoon work for you? Let’s say, 2 o’clock at Darries coffee shop?” I nod, my smile still tight, and watch as he leaves. The sense of panic he leaves behind lingers, consuming me.

What could he possibly want to talk about? He abused me, and I had enough. In my mind, the story should have ended there.

Tomorrow, I’ll have to put on my big girl pants and find out what he has to say.

I finally arrive home, utterly exhausted. It’s well past 11, and the late-night walk is serene, with no cars on the road anymore. I inhale deeply, savoring the crisp night air, and take a moment to admire the twinkling night sky. The sight of the stars always brings me a profound sense of peace. It’s a ritual I’ve cherished since childhood; whenever my mother scolded me, I would escape outside and lay beneath the stars for hours. In those moments, the world would fade away,and tranquility would wash over me, providing solace and relief.

As I climb the steps to my front door, a sense of relief washes over me as I unlock it and step inside. However, my peace is abruptly shattered. Upon entering, my keys slip from my grasp and a gasp escapes my lips.

He’s here, in my house, casually lounging on my couch. His legs are spread wide, one arm draped lazily over the back of the couch, and the other hand resting beneath his chin.

“What the—” I begin to protest, but he cuts me off before I can utter another word.

“Come here,” he commands, his voice leaving no room for argument. My limbs freeze with apprehension.

“Now,” he adds, his every word laden with emphasis, not even bothering to look in my direction. With a resigned sigh, I reluctantly approach him. However, before I can even take a second step, he halts me with a mere lift of his hand.

“But you said-”

“Get on your knees,” he calmly declares, slowly turning to face me. I’m dumbfounded by his audacious demand.

“On your knees, little star,” he insists, a dangerous smirk playing on his flawless face.

Pull yourself together, Star.

Don’t do this.

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