Page 120 of Stalkers Anonymous

I sat with Emma in the ER today. She’s okay. Broken arm, surgery tomorrow. The thing I wanted to tell you is that she made me laugh, and for a second I forgot to be sad. Then I remembered, and it hurt, and I came home and now I’m writing you a letter you’ll never read to make myself feel better.

I wonder how many of these I’ll write before I stop. I’m starting to think the answer is infinite. Which is maybe fine. My therapist says not everything has to be a problem that gets solved. Some things you just carry.

Cole

I save it, then close the folder and my laptop.

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Hailey

The problem with deciding that you’re ready for your first big social event after a stalker and an overly protective ex have flipped your life upside down and made you question everything from your sanity to your future marriage prospects, is that by the time you make the call to attend, you realize you have nothing to wear.

My wardrobe consists mainly of scrubs, athleisure, and oversize sweatshirts. But for the annual ER staff party tomorrow night, I want to look as put together as I’ve been trying to feel. Rachel picked up a last-minute shift at the PT clinic today, which meant I either have to go shopping alone or not at all.

Dr. Martinez and I have been working on rebuilding my independence. I can’t let fear control every decision for the rest of my life. So here I am at Mountain View Mall at eight p.m. on a Friday, having successfully found a dress and feeling proud of myself for taking this step.

The mall is quiet, and most of the stores are closing now. It’s time for me to head home, too. I take the escalator down to the parking garage, my new dress in a small shopping bag, feeling lighter than I have in weeks.

The parking garage is dimly lit, with an echo that makes every step sound like ten. I’m parked on level 2, section C, and as I walk toward my car, I’m mentally planning the rest of my evening: home to try on the dress with different shoes, maybe paint my nails, a book or movie, depending on how tired I am.

My car is almost within view when I hear footsteps behind me, distinct from the rhythmic echo of my own. A chill shoots up my spine, raising goose bumps over my whole body. I slow down slightly, and the footsteps slow, too. I speed up, and they speed up as well.

I turn to look, but there’s no one there.

Don’t be paranoid. It’s a public parking garage. People walk to their cars.

But my heart races faster, and I grip my keys more tightly, sliding them between my fingers. I pick up my pace. I just need to get to my car.

It’ll be fine.

I’m almost running. The footsteps behind me get louder, pounding against the concrete, forcing me to break into a sprint. Why did I park so far away? The mall was so busy when I got here, and it was already close to closing. I knew it’d be dark by the time I got back out. I knew the parking garage would be mostly empty.

But part of me was just so tired of being afraid all the time.

And now terror has me in a chokehold that feels like retaliation.

It’s almost crippling. I stumble on my next step, landing on my knees as I catch myself with my hands. The footsteps behind me slow to a stroll, and I finally turn to confront whoever’s following me.

But the way the air is charged reveals the truth before I see it with my own eyes.

Lars Winters stands about ten feet away, close enough for me to see the wicked smile on his face.

“Hello, Dr. Brigham,” he says, his voice a spit of venom.

The lower half of my body goes completely numb, frozen with fear. Fight or flight isn’t on the menu when I’m struggling to get back on my feet.

The restraining order was supposed to keep him away. But here he is. He followed me to the mall. He waited for me to be alone.

“You need to stay away from me.” The words come out through panicked breaths. “I have a restraining order against you. You know you’re not supposed to be near me.”

“I do know.” He takes a step closer. “But you and I have unfinished business. You cost me a lot of dignity when you got me banned from the hospital.”

“Your behavior got you banned.”

I risk a glance away from him, searching desperately for my car in the dark garage. I can see it a hundred or so feet away. It’s too fucking far.

“My behavior?” He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “I was a patient seeking medical care, and you turned them against me. You made me out to be some kind of dangerous person. Is that what you think I am, Dr. Brigham?”

He takes another step closer.