Page 5 of Rough Ride with the Grumpy Cowboy
I wander into the bedroom and I’m welcomed by a foul smell and a red substance all over my walls. The words “die bitch die” are painted on the mural that’s over my bed in more of the red substance. Is that paint? Blood? Most of it is on top of my bed where a suspicious lump glares at me.
I know I should turn around and leave, but curiosity gets the better of me. I lift the sheet and gag at the sight. I stagger back out, water sloshing around my feet.
“What?! What happened? What’s in there?” Lou asks when she sees the look on my face.
“Call the police,” I rush out, unable to articulate what I’ve just seen.
She doesn’t hesitate as she retrieves her phone from her pocket. We exit the apartment and wait for the police to arrive.
“Do you think it’s him?” I ask Lou, my voice shaking with fear, referring to the faceless stalker who has been making my life hell for months.
It all started nine months ago with creepy letters, then he upgraded to relentless calling, leaving creepy messages on my social media posts and sending disgusting packages to the record company. I’ve had stalkers before, but not to this extent. And now, he somehow managed to access my home and leave the most disgusting message.
Police reports have been filed, but he’s good at staying anonymous, so they haven’t been able to arrest him yet. I don’t even know what he looks like, how old he is, or anything about him. I just know that he’s ruining my life and is now making me feel more unsafe than ever.
“How did he get in? You can’t access this floor without the security code, or the penthouse without the keycard, and only you and I have copies,” she replies.
“It screams of him,” I insist.
“We have security cameras everywhere. I’m sure they’ll catch him this time,” Lou whispers, but she sounds unsure.
The police arrive quickly, and I’m too stunned to say anything or see the atrocity that is in my room again, so Lou deals with them.
My phone rings as I’m pacing outside. I retrieve it to hang up since I’m not in the right mental state to talk to anyone when I see it’s Ella calling. I told her I’d call her as soon as I landed and forgot about it in all the chaos.
I pick up, her cheery voice alleviating some of my anxiety. “Hi, Ava.”
“Hey, El, can I call you later? I’m in the middle of something right now.”
“You sound off. Is everything okay?” she asks, picking up on my tone.
“No, my stalker struck again, and this time in my home,” I answer since she knows all about him.
Zane and I haven’t talked in five years, but Ella and I are still best friends. We just never talk about him, no matter how much I always want to inquire about him.
“Oh my God! Are you okay?”
“A bit shaken but otherwise okay. He trashed my apartment, flooded it, and...” I break off, unable to explain what he did to my bedroom.
“I’m so sorry. I know how much you were looking forward to your break,” she replies.
“I know, me too. I guess I’ll have to stay at another hotel,” I groan, the thought of staying at a hotel making my stomach churn.
Ella falls silent on her end, and I think the call has disconnected when she speaks up. “Or you can come to Wrangler Creek. You can use Iron Stallion as your own personal vacation home,” she invites, referring to her family ranch where her whole family lives, including him.
I’m quick to turn her down. “I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. It’s about time you came back. You can’t stay away forever,” she insists.
“As a matter of fact, I can. The world is large enough,” I assert.
I can’t face him, not after what happened to him because of me. I just can’t.
“Come on, Ava, I know you don’t want to stay at another hotel. I miss you,” she pleads.
“I miss you too, but...”
“You won’t have to interact with Zane if you don’t want to. He moved out of the main house and lives separately.”
