Page 206 of On a Fault Line

I feel electric, but not in the positive kind of way.

I’m stressed, and when I feel this overwhelmed, I start to see things that aren’t there.

And it freaks me the fuck out. It happened before at the waterfront, and I’m still trying to recover from that trauma.

Playing with my hair, I twist strands around my finger. It needs dye and a bit more love than I’ve given it this week. I’ve been just fully embracing the survival mode. I do the bare minimum to live and nothing more.

Pulling out my phone, I am entranced by the local headline that pops up right after I unlock my device, but before I can fully comprehend the words on my screen, the door opens and out walks a man.

Taking a seat on the other side of the balcony, he bends his knee and props it up on his opposite leg.

And when my eyes meet his, I realize that I know him.

Well…sort of.

“You?”

He was who I saw in the room today.

“Me.”

My eyes glaze over, as I struggle to see past the fog filling my vision.

“I thought you were someone else,” I say breathily, my words coming out mumbled.

“I get that a lot.”

“You just look like someone I know.” Someone I hate…

My eyes scan over the man who has a striking resemblance to Mark Tanner but isn’t actually him.

And that should make sense. Mark is in prison. I saw him there myself, and Collins confirmed he was there recently.

“Did you hear about the big news?” the man asks, pointing at his phone.

I look down at mine and skim read. “There was a fight…”

“Yeah, a huge fight. That criminal Mark Tanner is being transported to the hospital right now. I saw the live footage that is being broadcast on every news channel. Isn’t that crazy?”

I flinch at that last word. “Yeah…Crazy.”

“Apparently he fucked up some stupid, pathetic girl.”

A shiver runs up my spine.

Standing up from his chair, he stops in front of me. His laugh is sinister.

Evil.

And then I see the little rose emblem at the pocket of his black shirt that has the words Rose City Cafe embroidered into the fabric.

But why?

What’s the connection?

“Who are you?” I choke out.

“I’m your worst nightmare.”

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