Page 7 of His Gift
100.
99
98
It's as if the air itself weighs a ton.
97
96
Luckily, it has never happened in front of my coworkers.
95
94
But it has happened plenty with my family and my ex. Each time they've belittled me, making me feel stupid, dramatic, useless.
I keep counting while trying to push aside distracting thoughts until finally a wave of relief washes over me, and I can breathe freely.
At least this time, I don't have to rack my brain to figure out why I'm anxious. I can even do something about it.
I need to find out who he is. He knows everything about me, and it's time I learned more about him. I open the laptop and hit the internet. It takes little time before I huff in frustration. With the information I have, there's no way to find out who he is, let alone all his secrets. I keep trying,getting creative, but I hit a wall every time. And, of course, online maps won't work!
Just as I'm about to slam the laptop shut in defeat, a message pops up on the screen.
Eat something. The fridge is full. Things are taking longer than I thought.
Things… What is he doing?
What's your name?
No answer. Go figure. I'm nauseous, so I don't want to eat, but I stand up and go to check the fridge, bringing the laptop with me. There are several home-cooked meals in little containers ready to be popped in the microwave. Did he do that for me? Regardless, I'm not hungry. Maybe I can eat some fruit later.
You're not taking care of yourself. Eat.
He's watching me. The fucker.
I'm not hungry. You're stalking me and you're out of your mind. And if you want to say something to me, you know where to find me.
I close the laptop. Am I poking the bear? Maybe. But I'm a little fed up.
So he saw me checking outside. And he's so sure I can't escape that he didn't even bother to hinder my attempt. He has me where he wants me, and he's not even bothering keeping me company.
Do I even want his company?
Well, yeah! The blaring TV is doing nothing to fill the silence. I'm stressed. And bored. And he left me hanging.
I could destroy his nice house. I bet I can do a lot of damage before he can stop me. And that he's a little OCD. I bet he'd hate me making a mess.
I'm so damn tempted, but I've already been snappy in my message. My self-preservation instincts suggest it would be dangerous to go any further.
I look at the laptop. I'd love to write. It always makes everything better. But it doesn't feel the same now.He didn't have any right to read my work! Or to categorize it!Plus, I don't want to know if he sent more messages.
It sounds like I'll binge-watch a ton of TV series today.
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