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6
Iawakened the next morning to find myself still on the sofa, my head throbbing as I wondered how I, once more, managed to fall asleep. Then again, it made sense that being terrified would exhaust a person, especially after the missed and inadequate sleep from the days before. My eyes fell to the coffee table, to the plates of food, and my stomach turned. Quickly, I vacated the couch and cleared the table before heading to the bathroom to get myself together—peed, brushed my teeth, showered. I made a light breakfast of toast and coffee because I couldn’t go another second without food. Then, I climbed into bed and slept some more.
When I awoke again, it was to the sound of someone knocking at my door. I lay there petrified and stone still until I heard the voice.
“Girl, I know you’re home! Your car’s behind the building! Open up!”
Justice.
Breathing a relieved sigh, I left the bed and answered the door to see a wicked grin on her flawlessly made-up face and a sack in her hand.
“Damn, your new man hitting it like that? Got you sleeping all day?” she quipped as she sauntered into my place. “Or is it the old one?”
“No man…old or new. I’m over men right now.”
“Hmm, well, you might wanna let Ray know that.”
“Who?” I asked.
“Ray! Sexy-as-fuck Ray! He dropped this off for you with his fine ass.” She handed the large paper bag to me, held up a finger, and said, “Be right back.”
With a wrinkled brow, I took the bag and watched her leave. The aroma told me what was inside the sack—barbecue. My body moved on its own until I felt the couch behind my legs and mindlessly sat down.
Seconds later, Justice was back. “And he brought this! He said he was leaving everything with us downstairs since you two had a little spat. Girl!! Who is he?!”
I blinked probably fifty times before standing to take the huge bouquet of red roses from her while mumbling, “Thanks, Justice.”
“You’re welcome! Quaneese is watching the store, by the way,” she informed me.
“Uh-huh. Talk to you later,” I said, my eyes on the roses.
“Okay…so, I guess I’ll leave you alone?”
“Yeah.”
She left, and I locked my door, placing the roses on the table, reclaiming my seat on the sofa, and closing my eyes.
I didn’t eat. I didn’t speak, didn’t look out the window or peruse social media. The TV remained dormant all day. The food was untouched, the beautiful roses, too. All I did was wait. For what, I wasn’t sure. Him? And if I was waiting for him, why? Why didn’t I leave, run away? If I did run away, where the hell would I go? Something about this man told me his reach stretched for miles. I innately knew there was no hiding from him. There was no avoiding him.
Him.
The killer.
The thought of him made a tingle race up my spine. It also left a bad taste in my mouth.
He didn’t show up, and although I was relieved, that relief came with a healthy dose of caution. So, when I slipped under the covers, I wasn’t sure if I’d find sleep.
I woke up hours later ensconced in the darkness of night. Everything was still and silent, but as I lay there with my eyes open, I felt his undeniable presence looming in the blackness. His energy—electric and ominous—was coming from the left of where I lay.
Without turning my head or moving a muscle, I softly said, “Ray? That’s your name?”
“Yes,” his velvety voice returned.
Tears crammed my eyes. “I’m not dreaming?”
“No, you’re not.”
“You…you broke in?”
