Page 74 of Oliver

I’d rather avoid the reality of my situation but I’m in too deep to back out now. Which is why I click into my messages and read through a response from Ray.

You need to stop. I’m not doing this with you. D was into bad shit. She welcomed the devil into her house and when all is said and done, she asked for what she got.

Sweetie:What devil?

I know the fucker is online because his profile is green, but I still hold my breath for a response. I need answers, but no one wants to give them to me.

A hunter

A chill marches down my spine and I glance around before typing:Hunter?

Yeah, she shouldn’t have been messing with this dude. Look where it got her. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stop. Guys like that don’t care who you are. They only care about what they want.

Mulling over the words, I close out my messages. Whoever this guy was, he’s enough to scare Ray but what does that mean for me?

Nothing good.

After brushing my teeth and washing my face, I head downstairs for a glass of water. When I reach the threshold to the kitchen, I pause though. All the hair on my neck stands on end and I turn my head.

To my right is the sliding glass door. It’s dark beyond although I can see the outline of the patio furniture we never use. Holding my breath, I stare into the darkness and scream when something smacks against the window.

After falling back, I hit my ass and cover my mouth before inching toward the door. There is no movement and when I’m close enough to see beyond the reflection cast by the kitchen light, I glance down.

“No. Oh no,” I moan.

Scooching backward, I push to my feet and race up the stairs. I’m panting by the time I find my phone and without thought, I dial the last person I should be asking for help.

“Yeah?” Oliver says, but I can barely hear him over the background sound.

“O-Oliver,” l whisper.

“What? I can’t hear you. Hold on.”

Another thwack sounds downstairs, and I slam my door closed. Tears clog my throat as I slide to the floor in front of my door.

“Oliver!”

“Okay, what is it?” he asks, and I close my eyes.

“There’s someone in my backyard.”

“Who? Did you call the police?”

“No, I can’t call them. I can’t…” I sob.

“Okay little one, calm down. I’m on my way. Did you see them?”

“No,” I whisper.

“Where are you?”

“In my room. Please hurry—. Oh fuck.”

Oliver

Penny’s panic ratchets my own but as soon as the line goes dead, I press my foot to the pedal, and I break every fucking traffic law to get to her house.

I don’t remember if I put the fucking thing in park as I race to the door with my heart in my throat. The shitty wood gives way easily and I make a mental note to figure that shit out as I barge inside.

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