Page 38 of Savage Protector

I finger my necklace, tempted to press the panic button. Does this count as an emergency? Possibly, but maybe I can handle it myself. I could just move. Student accommodation is everywhere around the university. I could find another place easily enough, but not somewhere as nice as my room in Stirling. And not free of charge.

Zayn would know I’d moved out as soon as I give notice, and he’d want to know why. He’ll probably wonder why I didn’t tell him if I was scared, and he won’t be pleased.

“Leila?” Someone prods me on the arm. “You’re miles away. Again.”

“Oh, sorry.” I turn sharply.

It’s Miranda, my best friend on the course. She looks anxious. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I was just…thinking.”

“I said, do you need a hand with that essay? You can have my notes from today if you like.”

Miranda’s always top in everything, and she even has a sporting chance of passing toxicology. Her notes will be meticulous. “Oh, yes. Thanks. I’ll be up half the night as it is.”

“Evans is a slavedriver,” she commiserates. “I’ll email the notes over later.”

She’s right about the professor. He is demanding and exacting, but he’s right. I wasn’t concentrating, and that can be fatal if patients are involved. I need to get my head right back in the game. I make up my mind.

I’ll find alternative digs, and I’ll get myself sorted. And, I’ll do it soon. As soon as I’ve done that bloody essay and got toxicology out of the way.

My sense of urgency gets a rude awakening when I return to Stirling and check my snail mail in the box in the hall, with my name on it and a neat little slot for my letters. I always check every morning on my way out, and every evening when I get home. I open the box to find a neat white envelope inside with my name scrawled across the front in black felt tip. There’s no postage stamp or postmark so it must have been hand-delivered. One of the other residents, probably, wanting to report a repair.

I wait until I’m upstairs in my room before I rip the envelope open and tip the contents onto my bed. A sheet of paper, folded in half. I pick it up and unfold it, then drop it as though it was on fire.

Fuck! Shit, shit, shit.“What the…?”

I look again, not even touching it this time. It’s another picture, of my uncle, in a wheelchair. He’s glaring into the camera, an expression of pure loathing on his pudgy face. And there’s a message scrawled beneath in the same felt tip.

Ungrateful whore. You did this and you will pay.

I get on the university website and start a search for student accommodation.

“What the fuckis going on, Leila?”

I grimace. I should never have answered the phone. Now I have Zayn to deal with on top of packing up my stuff ready to move. I’ve found a decent flat a few minutes’ walk from the university. I’ll be living with three other medical students. There’s a shared kitchen and bathroom, but Wi-Fi is included, and it’s cheap. It’ll do.

“Zayn. How nice to hear from you.”

“Don’t give me that crap. What’s going on? Ethan says you’re moving out.”

“I am, yes. Somewhere closer. No commute.”

“You drive, don’t you? Get a car.”

“That’s ridiculous. I don’t need a car. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m busy. I have to pack.”

“No, you don’t. You’re staying where you are.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard. I’m coming over.”

I can’t quite suppress the thrill of excitement after two years and no contact beyond occasional checking in, but I don’t want to see him. I can’t.

“There’s no need. I’m fine, really.”

“Bollocks. I’ll be there within the hour.”

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