Page 52 of Stalker's Toy

Pissed.

Everything's out of control, and I'm pinned here with my backagainst a wall.

Then she does it.

That look.

That look that says she expects more, expects it all, the way she always does.

"I'm swamped," I say, but it sounds weak, even to me.

Her eyes sparkle, like she's already won.

"You always make time," she says, like it’s a compliment.

“Go do something and meet me at the gallery later. There’s tons of museums you can go check out in the meantime.”

She’s disappointed, but I don’t give a shit.

With a huff, she leaves, taking her obnoxiously overpowering perfume with her.

Finally.

I can think about my girl.

The not-knowing burns.

I can't stand it.

I can't breathe.

This far away, anything can happen.

I need to be close, always.

I'm tight, too tight, ready to explode if I don't get to Mia soon.

She's in my blood, my bones.

This house, my mother—none of it matters.

It’s not what I need.

Not even close.

As soon as she's gone, I take a deep breath.

I know I have to move fast, faster than ever, if I’m going to salvage this day.

I can't waste a second.

Not a single fucking one.

I don’t want to think about what might happen if I’m too late.

Out the door, grabbing my keys, I feel the tension ease with every step that takes me further from my mother, closer to Mia.

I don't want to think about what happens if I’m too late.

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