Page 50 of Stalker's Toy

Because I’m stuck withher.

It's all slipping, and I can do nothing but grit my teeth and pretend my mother matters.

That she's not dismantling my life, thread by careful thread.

Standing by the window, I peer outside.

It’s quiet.

There’s no car to signal Mia’s presence.

No passers-by walking.

Nothing.

I leave the window.

Pace the floors.

Check my phone for any sign, any missed text, any reason to drop everything and get to her.

But it's empty.

Quiet.

As dead as my fucking social life.

Inside, I'm spiraling.

Wondering if she thinks of me.

Wondering if she’s feeling my absence.

Does she know I'm coming for her?

Or is she moving on, the way girls do when they think no one's paying attention?

Is she safe?

She's got no idea I'm always there, always looking.

Alwayswanting.

It's only a week, I tell myself.

I can survive a week of this.

A week of performing like some trained animal, doing tricks for family I barely care about.

It feels longer, stretches like gum on my shoe.

A lot can change in a week.

Maybe she’s pulling away already.

I imagine her alone, but not as alone as I think.

Other people seeping in like unwanted rain.

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