Page 8 of Stalked

He murmured, “Well, now that we have gotten that out of the way.” His smile reached his eyes. “What are you thinking about right now?”

Shouldn’t he know? He was a part of my own mind.

Sighing, I replied, “You.” I tore away my gaze from his beautiful eyes to glance up at the dark clouds forming above us.

His breath tickled my ear as he whispered, “I’ll see you again tomorrow.”

“I know.”

He reached out and caressed my cheek, and I gladly soaked up the warmth of his touch. He moved his hand and tilted my chin again. I closed my eyes and leaned into the chaste kiss. Unfortunately, the moment was cut short as my eyes popped open to the sound of my alarm.

CHAPTER 3

THE TOWERING TREESswayed from the wind within the vast forest surrounding my childhood home. The pleasant aroma of lavender buds spilled into the gentle breeze from the front porch. Despite my college only being twenty-five minutes away, it had been almost three years since I stepped foot inside.

The courts had turned the house over to my aunt Lily after they locked my mom away. I spent my summers and in between semesters with my uncles in New York. Lily often joined us—it made the trip much more enjoyable when we were all together as a family.

I continued to stare at the front door of the house I had grown up in all my life. Lily had repainted the charming white picket fence, and the wooden shutters were changed from blue to black. The window panels were now slightly teal, and the front door was a metallic black with an elaborate, golden-bronze door handle.

One unique feature was all the decorative patio furniture that wrapped around the entire front of the house. Brightly colored tapestries draped to the sides with vibrant green vines that climbed up the walls, intertwining with fairy lights, creating a peaceful oasis on a cloudy, stormy night.

Looking back, I recalled all the moments Lily wanted to visit so she could make something of our dull looking home. My mom and I were never good at creating an earthy ambiance, but Lily had a knack for decor. New-age pagan aesthetics surrounded Lily’s entire life. She believed in using the surrounding earth to bring peace into her world. It wasn’t that I thought it was strange; I just didn’t understand the significance.

Lily took guardianship of me after my mom was locked away, but it was only a few weeks before my eighteenth birthday, so it was just legal paperwork at that point. When it was time to start college, I packed up the room where my blood had spilled on that hellish night, and I hadn’t been back since.

Lily shouted my name through the open window screen, jolting me to awareness. I thought she had seen me and was calling me inside, but I didn’t see her standing at the window. It sounded like Lily was shouting my name at someone in anger. I was too far away to understand what she had said afterward, so I walked up toward the house. Stepping onto the porch, I peered inside, watching her pace around the kitchen table. I quietly opened the back door and eased inside the house, my heart pounding with growing anxiety. I swallowed hard and looked around.

The scent of incense through the hallway stung my senses as it permeated into the first-floor bedrooms. Everything was dark around me, aside from a few candles lit on the sconces in the foyer and the light above the kitchen stove. I spotted Lily just inside the kitchen, near the doorway; she had the house phone pressed to her ear. She seemed really agitated.

After Lily disappeared behind the corner, I moved closer, staying flush with the wall until I was within earshot.

I glanced through the doorway into the kitchen. Lily had tucked her brown hair behind her ear and listened intently to someone on the other side of the landline, her foot tapping impatiently. “There’s no way I’d let that happen! Joel and I will tell her!” she said harshly, her voice climbing up an octave higher.

Lily still hadn’t seen or heard me come in, or at least, I didn’t think she had. I wanted to listen to more of the phone call, so I stayed silent, not wanting to alert her to my presence yet.

The wooden floor creaked under my foot in my haste to stay hidden. I backed up farther behind the wall, hoping she hadn’t heard.

“Oh, give me a fucking break,” Lily continued. “All of this is your fault.” Her voice was icy now, and I could feel the anger radiating from her. Her fingers were white as she gripped the phone and hissed, “Two weeks, Daniella! I have two weeks!”

My body froze, and my chest tightened—my mother. The only image I could conjure was her face as she held the knife over my body and the sound of her heavy breathing as she drove it into my chest. I felt panic wash over me and my stomach twisted into a painful knot.

She’s not here.

“Never call here again. I’m done taking these calls, and I’m done with you!” She slammed the phone down before taking a few deep breaths. Lily, who was always soft spoken and forbearing, had just lost her temper with my mom. My mother had contacted her, and they had spoken! I hadn’t realized those admitted to the asylum could even make outside calls. Lily had never mentioned it.

This wasn’t the first time. Of course not. Lily and Joel had an obligation to protect me. Something as triggering as this would have been kept a secret.

I swallowed the lump that reached my throat as my foot stepped forward, but Lily was there in the doorway, staring right at me.

“I thought you were coming home tomorrow morning,” she said calmly, glancing at the clock as if she had lost track of time.

My thoughts could only focus on my sweaty palms and the rapid heartbeat in my ear as I moved past her. “Well,” I said, taking a seat at the table, “you kind of have to tell me now. I heard you and my mom talking.”

Her expression fell, and her brown eyes glistened. “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you about that call, Mercy. It’s more complicated than that. Your mom isn’t well.”

“Yeah,” I said. “The scar on my chest reminds me of that every single day.” I gestured with my head for her to sit by me. I could feel my hands shaking in my lap as Lily moved to sit down. I wasn’t mad, just taken back by it all, that she had kept the fact that my mom had been calling her for who knows how long. The question had to be asked. “How many times, Lily?”

She blinked. “Oh, um, at least once a month.” A row of lines creased her forehead as if she was lost in thought. “The doctors said it was good for her. That it might help her in some way. But every time she calls, it feels less and less like the woman we knew.”

---