Page 1 of Real Shadows
Prologue
Fallon~
My many keys jingled endlessly as I unlocked my front door. My landlord hadn’t uttered a word when I had asked him if it was okay to call out a locksmith to install two additional deadbolts to my door when I had moved in. He had simply said okay, accepted the copy of the new keys, and had docked the cost from my second month’s rent.
I’ve learned over the years that not all landlords were willing to let you alter their properties on your first day as a tenant. I lucked out with Richard, though. He didn’t object, nor did he pry. Not in all the two years that I’ve lived here has he once asked me about my obsession with locks, and I was extremely grateful for his respect for privacy.
After the final lock was disengaged, I swung my front door open and stepped inside. I dropped my purse on the light green sofa that took up most of the living room and headed towards the kitchen with my bag of Mexican take-out.
I was two steps past the sofa when my eyes caught sight of the silver ceramic bunny that lived on the second shelf of the bookcase that, like the light green sofa, had come with the apartment.
The bag of take-out slipped out of my hand as I noticed how the little guy was now facing east instead of west.
Like he always was.
My heart started racing and my body fell under its routine paralysis. Fear-real fear-formed in the pit of my stomach and branched out until it infused every cell in my body.
I couldn’t process sound over the rush of blood in my ears and the frantic pulsing of my heart. My mind would not let my eyes look left nor right. My mind did allow them to water, though. It allowed them to water, and silent tears streamed down my face.
I stared at that little silver ceramic bunny, and it was amazing how he could be a symbol for both safety and danger, all in one. He was a beacon for safety when he was facing west, but he was a sign of danger when he was facing in any other direction. Even if he were still facing west, he could still be a sign of danger if you didn’t pay enough attention tohowhe was facing west.
See, there was a reason he sat alone on that particular shelf; a shelf that was never dusted, a shelf that had superficial literature on it that I would never read. There was a reason why he faced west in a very specific manner.
Because I knew thathecouldn’t help himself.
Somehow, he knew all about my fixation with grey bunny rabbits. I didn’t know how he knew, but he did. He had to have known the comfort they had brought me when I was younger. He had to have known about the stuffed bunny that I had had for years because he’s gifted me with the exact replica over the years. But what he didn’t know was why this particular silver ceramic bunny was important to me now. It was no longer a symbol of comfort, but a warning system.
If that bunny was moved, even a fraction of a millimeter in any direction, I’d know that he found me. I would know that he found me again and that he’d been in my home.
Like he has now, once again.
If I get out of this moment alive, this will be the seventh time I will have had to move over a six-year span; the seventh time when I will have to try to find unknown shelter and an uneventful job to feed myself with.
So far, he’s remained in the dark, opting to mentally torture me rather than outright attack me. It’s almost as if he realizes that, if he did attack me, that would be the end to his game. If he came after me in the light, I’d be able to identify him, possibly fight him. But I knew he didn’t want that.
He wanted a victim.
But more importantly, he wanted our sick, twisted, one-sided relationship to continue. He’s been stalking me for six years, and every time that he’s found me, the defeated punch to my chest felt just as painful as the ones before.
I just wanted a normal life. I wanted a life without some creep determining my every move. I wanted a life where I had friends and a steady job I could complain about.
I wanted a life where the police didn’t look at me like I was crazy.
Ignoring the food on the floor, I walked over to the bookshelf, grabbed the silver bunny, and held on until I could function enough to start packing up my life again.
Chapter 1
Fallon~
Most people would balk at driving across the country with their life savings in a suitcase, but desperation overshadowed common sense at this point.
Fleeing California-which is exactly what I was doing-with everything I had seemed like a sound decision at the time. And if I did end up getting robbed at gunpoint, well, there were worse things that could happen to a person, and that thought, in itself, was as grim as it got.
As self-centered creatures, we always think our worries and woes are the worst out there, but, if given the choice, I’d rather get robbed than raped. I’d rather get robbed than murdered. I’d rather get robbed than lose a child. I’d rather get robbed than live in constant fear of a threat I couldn’t identify.
Hence, why I was fleeing California and heading towards North Dakota.
Why North Dakota, you ask?
