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She exited the vehicle and let herself into the building. Miss Jones’s apartment was on the first floor. Anya made a note in the back of her mind to stop by her place before she left. They still needed to have that chat about letting people into her apartment without permission.
She jogged up the stairs and pulled her keys from her purse. Sliding it into the lock, she paused.
Flashbacks of Glenn being in her apartment had her hands trembling.
“Just go in, grab your stuff, and go,” she muttered.
Turning the key, she pushed the door open. Her place was quiet and looked the same. Anya stepped inside, closed the door, and locked it behind her.
Cradling her phone in her hand, she quietly moved through her apartment.
The air escaped her once she saw there was no one there.
“This is crazy.”
She didn’t know how she was going to do it, but she was going to have to move. The safety of her domain had been tarnished.
She couldn’t stay where she didn’t feel safe.
That was no way to live.
She stalked into her room and tossed her purse down on her bed. She turned and walked over to the closet and grabbed items she would need.
Five minutes, that was all she needed.
She dropped her pile of jeans and a couple dresses down on her bed then moved over to her dresser.
She pulled it open and froze at a sound.
Her heart pounded. She swallowed hard and looked around for anything she could use as a weapon.
A lamp.
Books.
Hangers.
Just great.
Note to self: run out and buy a bat.
“That door was locked,” she muttered. She quietly crept from her room and strode down the short hall. Her gaze roamed the living room.
Nothing.
She walked over to the kitchen and found it to be clear.
“I’m hallucinating.” She ran a trembling hand through her hair. “Get your shit and go, Anya.”
She headed back to her room, and this time she heard it even louder. Her feet froze in place.
The hallway closet.
She hadn’t thought to check it.
Anya turned around slowly, and the floor of her stomach gave way.
The door of the closet opened, revealing none other than Glenn.
