Page 23 of Live for Me

“They always are,” I told her as the delivery man gave me a smile and walked away. I leaned in, smelling the flowers as I closed my eyes.

I had no idea what I did to deserve a friend like Dave, but I was so grateful for him. With that thought on my mind, I pulled out my phone and sent him a quick text.

Me: Thank you for the roses. They were just what I needed. You want to grab a drink after work? Harris can join!

Once my phone was put away, I grabbed the crystal vase and the small box, murmuring a goodbye to Anna before heading back to my office. I set the flowers on the small table by the window, appreciating the light and color they provided in my small workspace before taking my seat and looking at the small present that came with it.

This was new.

Dave had never given me a present with flowers, but then again, this was Dave being the kind-hearted, warm, loving friend he’d always been.

The present was wrapped in a delicate yellow paper with a lace bow on top. Slowly, I pulled the blow apart and carefully removed the wrapping paper to reveal a black box with tape.

I opened my top drawer, ignoring my work for now to grab the box cutter, feeling myself smile as I wondered what it could be. Perhaps it was another paperweight. He knew I collected funky ones, the ones you’d find deep within an old antique store. As I opened the box, my smile faded as my eyes grew wide, fear coiling around my neck like a viper, squeezing the life out of me. I shot out of my seat, a scream lodged in my throat as a sweat broke out on my forehead, my eyes never leaving the gift.

I stumbled back, not stopping until I was against the window, my chest heaving as tears welled in my eyes, stinging. My gut twisted painfully, and when I finally managed to peel my eyes from the present, my head snapped over to the flowers, focusing on the card sticking from the top. I moved then, snatching it up as the vase wobbled back and forth. My fingers were shaking as I tore at the small envelope, my breath unsteady.

My hand flew to my mouth as I read the note, and I threw it away from me as if it had burned my fingers. I stepped back, slamming into the wall as I watched it land on the corner of my desk, the words written in blood red ink.

Sobs, violent and overwhelming, took over then as I bought my knees up and began rocking back and forth.

There was truly no one who could help me now.

I was his prisoner in a cage made by my own hand.

I closed my eyes, trying to get the image of his gift out of my mind as my cell phone buzzed. My head shot up and I scrambled to get it out of my pocket, whimpering when I saw Dave’s text on my screen.

Dave: I didn’t send you any flowers, Abbie…

I looked up to the ceiling, a feeling of hopelessness settling on my shoulders. I knew he was watching me; he could see my tears, see my fear. I knew he probably enjoyed it—the sick bastard.

A few minutes passed, and when a knock came to my door, I cleared my throat and got to my feet. One of our photographers for the newspaper, Aaron, was here to give me my photos for another story I’d been working on. “You alright, Abbie?” he asked, stepping into my office as I grabbed the card and box off the table, setting them in my chair.

I wiped my cheeks. “Yes,” I breathed. “It’s just been an emotional day, that’s all.”

Aaron’s eyes shot over to the flowers and then back to me. “Those are pretty,” he noted.

I looked back to them, cursing that they were in fact, stunning. I plastered a smile on my face before looking at him again. “Aren’t they? My best friend had them delivered to me, and I just…got emotional,” I explained, waving it off. “Anyways, you got those photos for me?”

He nodded, holding out a flash drive. “Yup. Let me know if you want me to tweak the brightness a bit, yeah?”

I took the drive, holding it close. “I’m sure I won’t need to. Your work is always good.”

Aaron gave me a closed-mouth smile. “Thanks, Abbie. I’ll let you get back to it.”

As he walked out of my office, my cell phone started ringing, and I jumped, my hand flying to my chest. I blindly pulled it out of my baby pink pants, keeping my eyes on the box in my chair.

“This is Abbie.”

Dave’s voice flooded my ear. “What flowers are you talking about?”

My eyes flicked to the note, focusing on the last three words.

Or they die.

Or.

They.

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