Page 66 of Shadowed With Fear

And he’s there. Barely. A shift in the shadows, shaped like a man, and he isn’t moving.

My eyes widen, and I freeze. He’s not moving. Not speaking.

The shadow moves, one inch, a dark brown boot coming into the hall light, followed by a leg covered in dark jeans, then a black zipper hoodie, and finally his head. No face, just a black ski mask, and a dark laugh that shakes me to my core.

He’s back.

The guy from the fucking Founder’s Fest.

Something snaps and I move. My feet hardly touch the floor as I run down the hallway, heavy footfalls following close behind me. I pull everything in the hall behind me to slow him down. Tables, pictures, a weird ass plant that I’m pretty sure is fake.

I just make it into Brahm’s room with the door shut, when I hear his body slam against the wooden frame.

He laughs again, a dull hollow sound. “Tsk, tsk. Dahlia,” the man sings.

“You know what they say, hmm? Third times a charm, sweetheart.”

My stomach rolls, bile surging up my throat.

Third? What does he mean third? And it’s then, like a train has coming crashing through my house, I realize what he’s said.

Halloween night comes rushing back to me a million miles a second. The four guys at the park. In ski masks. Sweetheart.

He laughs and the noise grates against my eardrums. “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost?”

I look around Brahm’s room, and to my utter dismay the only kind of weapon I see is a bat he has hanging behind his bed, a lamp, and maybe the knife he got from grandpa, but I wouldn’t even know where to start looking for it.

Panic simmers inside me, staticky, every hair stands on end. I don’t know what to do.

There is a hard knock on the door, so hard it shudders in the frame.

The guy is still talking, taunting me. Saying things about how sweet I look in my bedroom at night, and that he has been waiting for this moment for a year.

I swallow back the saliva pooling in my mouth, my stomach rolling. A year. He’s been watching me for a year. Does Shadow know? Is he in on it?

I thought that this whole time he had been following me. It only made sense for how he was there to save me. But…maybe I was wrong.

And that thought scares me the most.

The things I had done. The things I had told him.

Stop, Dahlia. Save yourself.

No one can save me this time.

I rip my phone from my pocket dialing Brahm’s number.

“D, are you okay? I can’t see you. I’m on my way, fucking hide.” He starts speaking before the line had even connected.

“Brahm,” I whimper before clearing my throat.

“Brahm, meet me where I broke my arm.” My calmness is convincing, as I speak loudly on the phone.

“Okay. Okay! I’m coming.”

I end the call, taking a deep breath. As I walk to the window, praying the guy can hear me through the door. Every footfall thudding harshly against the floor. I push the window open, the crack of it settling in place ringing in my ears.

Leaning over the windowsill, I look down to the rose bushes my mom had planted. She might not be here anymore, but she can damn sure save me.