Four weeks.
It’s been four weeks since I’ve seen or heard from my elusive stalker who I came to find out was none other than Enzo Romano.
It’s been four weeks since I felt the hairs on the back of my neck prick as the sensation of being watched washed over me.
The worst part is, I’ve kind of missed that feeling. I somehow felt safer than I did before, which really goes to show just how messed up I am.
Today is May the tenth—otherwise known as my twenty-fifth birthday—and I plan to do absolutely nothing.
Every year, I spend my birthday alone, eating takeout on the sofa while reading or watching whatever show I’m binge watching at that time. Since it’s Friday, I had to plead with Lia to let me cancel our standing girl’s night, and after an hour of me begging her to let me skip this one she finally gave in and is allowing me to sit around and mope for the day.
There’s no significant reason why I choose not to celebrate my birthday, it just is. Ever since I was young and my parents would forget about that day, I decided to just stop celebrating it altogether rather than be disappointed each year, waiting for them to acknowledge the day.
So that’s how I’ve spent my day, lounging around in my apartment reading a smutty book and eating Chinese. The only thing that changed it up this year was the fact that I had a bouquet of peonies delivered to my door this morning with a note attached.
Happy birthday, angel. Twenty-five peonies for twenty-five years of you. I’ve kept away because you deserve so much more than me, you deserve everything light, whereas I’m only filled with darkness. That being said, if you ever find yourself in trouble, if you ever need someone to run to, run to me.
That’s it.
Nothing else, no signature, nothing but a cell number at the bottom of the note. Though if I really think about it, the only other people who know it’s my birthday today are Lia and my brother Jeremy, and the flowers most definitely aren’t from either of them. So there’s only one other person who would think of sending me flowers on my birthday.
If I’m being honest—after he somehow found out when my birthday is—I’m surprised his research didn’t also tell him that I don’t actually enjoy celebrating the day. But I suppose I’m not really sure just how much he dug into my history.
After finishing the book I’ve spent the day reading, I check the time and see it’s just after eleven at night. Deciding there’s no point in me starting a new book or watching TV, I kick the blanket off of myself before standing and making my way over to the door to check the locks.
As I make it to the door, I hear what sounds like a rattling noise from the other side and my movements pause as I wait to see if I hear it again.
It’s probably nothing, I tell myself with a frown before unlocking the door and opening it a crack.
Just as I turn the knob, the door flies open and sends me careening backwards. My body twists as I try and catch myself, and I somehow end up landing on my knees. A sharp pain shoots up my legs as my knees hit the floor with a thud.
I stare up in shock as a man walks into my apartment. He looks around the same age as me—maybe a little older—and is wearing a black hoodie and jeans. Dirty blonde hair flows to his shoulders and his black biker boots echo against the floorboards as he takes a step towards me. The look he’s giving me could only be described as dangerous.
He’s tall, and even though he’s wearing baggy clothing, I can tell he’s well-built.
“Where’s Jeremy?” his deep voice hits my ears and sends a shiver down my spine—and not in a good way.
“Wh-what? I don’t know… I haven’t seen Jeremy in over a year,” I stammer, and he lets out a dark chuckle before bending down and grabbing both my wrists.
He pulls me up from the floor using the hold he has on me, his fingers biting into my skin, and I clench my jaw in an effort to stop a whimper of pain escaping my lips.
I fight against his hold but he’s too strong for me. He lets out a bark of laughter before wrapping his hand around my throat and shoving me against the wall.
“Let this be a warning, darlin’. You have two weeks for that brother of yours to pay up the twenty grand he owes, or we’ll take payment another way. And don’t even think of callin’ the cops. I’ll know if you do, and you’ll regret it,” he says as his gaze flicks over my body, and I swallow as I take in his words. My body trembles as I work up the nerve to tell him that I have no desire to have any contact with my brother, but before I can get the words out, he puts pressure against my throat, cutting off my air supply as a final warning before he abruptly lets me go and walks out the door.
I rush over and lock the door behind him before I put my back against the door and slide down to the floor.
I wrap my arms around my knees, silent tears streaming down my face.
You could call the number, the internal voice screams.
No. Absolutely not. Something tells me that if I called that number, it would be the beginning of the end.
I’m ready for today to be over. It’s been a busy day in the store and usually, I’d be happy about that.
But not today.
Not after last night.
Last night, when I spent around an hour crying on the floor before I finally managed to pick myself up, triple check all doors and windows were locked and get into bed.
I then spent the night tossing and turning, straining my ears, and flinching at the slightest noise coming from the street below.
Today hasn’t been much better. Every time I hear the bell chime above the door, I’m bracing myself for another visit from the man from last night—even if he did say I had two weeks.
Two weeks to try and get in touch with my brother and tell him to sort his shit out.
Right as the store dies down and I’m finally able to take a breath, the bell chimes again and I spin around to come face-to-face with the woman who was here with Enzo the first time he came in.
I give her a warm smile and she grins at me in return.
“Hey… Robyn, right?” she says, and I nod while I try to remember her name.
“That’s right, and you’re… Isla? Izzy?”
“Izzy,” she says with a raspy chuckle.
“Right, sorry… your brother-in-law came back in again after that first time,” I say as I think back to just over a month ago when he found me sitting on the floor and helped me with my ankle.
Can he really be that bad if he helped me when I was injured?
He stalked you, he can’t really be that—
“Yep. I just got back from my honeymoon and came in for the second book in a duet he bought me,” she says interrupting my thoughts and I spend a couple of minutes finding the book and taking payment at the register.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I ask her the question that’s been burning at the back of my throat since the moment she stepped through the door.
“I know this is really unprofessional… but can I ask what the deal is with your brother-in-law?”
“He’s single, if that’s what you’re asking,” she says with a grin, and I shake my head.
“No… that wasn’t what I meant, but…” Considering he’s stalked me for the last however long, him being in a relationship never once crossed my mind. “You know what? Never mind, just forget I said anything.”
Her brows furrow. “Is everything okay?”
“Of course, thank you so much for coming back,” I say with a tight-lipped smile and I watch as she nods and leaves the store.
I let out a sigh of relief as I glance around the empty room, thankful that I now have a moment alone for the first time today.
Thankful I don’t have to give anymore fake smiles and use false enthusiasm when speaking to someone.
Thankful for the peace I feel in the only place that feels like home now that my apartment is tainted from the memory of last night.
