Page 41 of Targeted By Desire

On the way to the door, I grabbed my phone and checked the screen. Surprisingly, it hadn’t shattered.

I shoved it into my pocket as I padded downstairs. I slipped on my shoes and headed out the front door.

The bright streetlights line the block, offering a clear path for me to run down. The crickets’ song filled the air as I started jogging down the street.

Going for a run in the dead of night probably wasn’t my smartest idea, but I couldn’t stay in that house another minute. Not with him watching.

The cool, fresh air brushed my cheeks, wiping away some of the tension as if they were tears on my cheeks. My feet thumped against the concrete, reminding me of the grounded state I needed to return to. Rarely did I let myself get so angry that my blood boiled. On a few occasions, I’d seen the damage I could do when the lid flipped and all my rage spilled over. And my mom was right: it wasn’t pretty.

My body slowly regulated itself as I ran. The movement and the quiet darkness definitely helped take the edge off.

I paused for a moment to catch my breath. Setting my hands on my hips, I sucked the air in quickly and released it slowly. Sweat tricked down my temples, and I wiped it away with the back of my hand. I should’ve bought my usual rag and water bottle with me. It would’ve made the post-decompressing routine much easier.

The thought of laying down on the cold concrete crossed my mind as exhaustion finally found me. Maybe I’ll actually fall asleep when I get back home.

Turning on my heel, I started walking back the way I’d come.

My ears caught the soft taps of another pair of feet on the concrete, and I whipped my head around. A dark figure was walking a few feet behind me. The shape of a hood framed their head, and their elbows were cocked as if their hands were in their pockets.

Looking away, I dug my phone out of my pocket. There weren’t any new messages from him. Still, my fingers raced across the screen to test a theory.

Me

Stop following me.

I gave the message a moment to reach his phone before I glanced over my shoulder.

The stranger behind me had their phone out now, the light of their screen so dim that it didn’t reflect against their face. Holding it in one hand, their thumb bounced around the screen.

Shit.

Without hesitation, I took off down the street, running as fast as I could. I didn’t even bother looking behind me to see if he was still there. I knew he was. He had to be. And I wouldn’t let him catch me.

Reaching my house, I flung the door open and slammed it shut. Locking it, I peeked through the small glass window at the top. My eyes raced back and forth, scanning for even a glimpse of his silhouette.

I let out a sigh of relief when I didn’t see anything.

Leaning back against the door, I slowly sunk down to the floor. I sat there for a moment, catching my breath again. My phone buzzed in my hand, and I’d almost forgotten I was still holding it. My brows rose as I read the text.

Unknown

I’m not.

Me

Yes, you were! I just saw you!

Unknown

Impossible.

I’m nowhere near your house right now.

Honest.

What? If that wasn’t him, then who the fuck was I running from? Was there even someone there? Or had I imagined the whole thing?

Another message came through.