Page 23 of Pretend
I clutchmy phone as my blood drains from my shocked face. But then it falls to the ground in a second as my vision blurs and spins. Bile rises in my throat, causing a soft burning sensation. I swallow it down as my body slowly grows cold.
This person is texting me again.
Does this person mean what I think they mean?
I reach for my phone with trembling hands, staring at it like it’s going to come alive and bite me. I look around the bar…searching for a shadow.
This terrible feeling gnaws at me like someone is in here.
Like someone is watching me.
My vision swings to the left and the right, but all I see is a very confused and concerned Winters and strangers drinking and dancing the night away—nothing and no one out of the ordinary.
Country music continues to blaze loudly and vibrate through the walls in a muffled manner. I gather my strength and move my fingers.
Me: You must have the wrong number. Please stop texting me, or I’ll report this to the police.
It has to be a wrong number. I hold it tight, awaiting their response in suspense. I chew on the insides of my cheek before I flutter my lashes rapidly. My jaw tightens as the seconds go by, and sure enough, a response pops up.
Unknown: Report what? A concerned citizen? I’ll do something worse than a little flesh wound if he forces himself on you again, Alessia.
They know my name.
They know my freaking name.
This person shot at us?
I’m taking this to the police. I have to. I can’t take this anymore. I don’t know why I keep giving in to this sick game this person is playing.
Me: It was you? You’re stalking me? Watching me? Why are you doing this?
As I type vigorously, every press on my phone makes a small thud of aggression.
Unknown: But why? It’s so much fun to see the raw moments of a person when they don’t know they’re being watched. The secrets they keep are interesting. You really get to know who someone is when they don’t know they’re being watched.
I grit my teeth, my blood boiling with more wrath than fear. The two emotions mixing with each other finally come to a head, and I decide to dare the bastard.
Me: Reveal yourself, you coward.
Unknown: You should be thanking me. I’ll see you soon…don’t worry.
I roll my eyes, exhaling an exhausted breath. My mind begins to race with every scenario, debating with myself.
Who is this person?
Do I know them?
Is this some kind of sick prank?
Should I tell Winters or Jack what’s going on?
Should I call the police?
The thought of having policemen swarm El Devine to take my report weighs heavily like dread.
Policemen who know my “step-father” very well.
You know what…no. I won’t do this right now. I refuse to deal with this bullshit.
