Page 16 of Stray

“Fuck off, old man,” I laugh, somewhat annoyed at how fast he saw through me.

“I’m sorry that fucker hurt you.” He mutters while closing his eyes.

“Which one?” I huff out under my breath.

“All of them.” He says softly, causing me to clench my jaw while I glare holes into my socks. I can’t cry. I won’t cry. Glancing up at Morris, I note his eyes are closed now, and I take the moment to look over the old man.

“I could deal with the physical pain all day, every day,” I admit softly.

“It’s the mental pain that hurts the worst,” he mutters, his eyes still closed. My eyes snap to his face, and I watch an eye peek open. “I wasn’t always a rancher.” His smile is tired, and I know he is drifting off to sleep. “I know all about the nightmares.”

* * *

“So,” Indy’s sweeter-than-sugar voice fills my earbud as I lay in the bathtub contemplating the day. “How’s it going there?”

“I would rather hear about you and Derek. Have you two decided to make it official yet?” I hear her light giggle.

“He took me to a resort where you swim with penguins.”

“Oh god, so you’ve mated for life?” I joke while playing with the bubbles with my toes.

“Basically. So again, how are things going? Derek said there was a horrible storm.” I blow the bubbles off my hand and watch them float around.

“Yeah, pretty wicked. Umm… things are fine out here. I like Morris. He’s a crotchety old man just like me, so we are pretty cool. Dorothy is exhausted, but there’s no talking to her, so I just let her do her thing and help where I can.”

“And the guys?”

“Fine. I think Carter is afraid of me, Jensen doesn’t really talk to anyone, and Jackson is… whatever.” I shake off the tingly as I rinse the bubbles off me and drain the tub.

“Mhm..” Indy muses. “You know, it’s okay to like a guy.”

“No,” I state firmly as I stand up and grab my towel to dry myself off before slipping on my black pj pants and shirt. “It’s not happening.”

“But whyyyy?” She whines, and I roll my eyes while putting on my nightly face cream.

“You know why,” I mutter, massaging my face a little harder than necessary. “I can’t be with someone. Not anymore.”

Indy lets out an exasperated breath, Oh? Am I exhausting her? “Ozzy, your parts haven’t fallen off. You’ve been in therapy for five years; you really should give it a try, and Jackson is–”

“Hard pass.” I interrupt, deciding I’m over this conversation. It’s making my heart pound, mainly because these are all late-night thoughts I’ve had over the last week that I should not be having.

“Ozzy–”

“Cupcake,” I snap as I storm out of the bathroom, and my breath hitches at the dark window. Is that a flashlight in the woods?

“Ozzy?” Indy’s voice is so far away. I feel my heart rate accelerating, and I’m beginning to sweat as I walk towards the window. I can hear someone yelling something. What is it? Removing the bud from my ear, I toss it across the room before pressing my ear to the glass.

“BRUMBY!”

I nearly fall backward at the voice, the name. His voice. My name. Oh god, no. Not Patrick. How is he here? How did he find me? How did he get out of prison? Oh my god…

Stumbling, I run out of my bedroom and down the steps before running out the front door into the night. My car. Fuck it’s useless right now… SHIT.

“Brumby,” Oh my god, he’s close. I hear the chain dragging the ground and have to hold onto my car for support as my free hand covers my tightening throat. I’ve got to run, I’ve got to get away. “There you are.” I hear his vile voice only a few feet away.

“Get away!” I scream before taking off, running through the yard and into the dark tree line. I can’t see and keep tripping, but it doesn’t matter. I have to keep going. He’s not taking me back. I won’t go back there.

“BRUMBY! Get back here, you bitch!”

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