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I grit my teeth and turn my gaze to him. I stare at him even though the hair on my neck stands to attention, hoping he’ll either get bored and leave or, I don’t know, do something. But he keeps leaning against the wall, his face is hidden behind the black hoodie under his leather jacket. When he pushes away from the wall, I sigh in relief, thinking he’s finally had enough and will leave me alone; but my relief fades like a wilting daisy as he reaches his pocket and brings out a cigarette box. I watch him as he lights up the cigarette, I swear I almost see a small quirk on his lips like he’s smirking, but of course it must be just my imagination since he’s not close enough to me to see such details.
Gripping the railings of the balcony until my knuckles go white, I lean a little like it’ll help me to see better. He still looks unfazed and oblivious to my internal anger mixed with anxiety. He’s smoking and blowing the smoke my way, or that’s how my mind tricks me to think. I watch him grinding his feet to the pavement, almost as if he doesn’t realize he’s doing it. My skin breaks into goosebumps, but this time it’s not because of fear or anxiety. This time it’s because I feel some kind of familiarity I can’t put my finger on.
When I take a step back, he takes one forward. I almost feel his breath on my face like he’s here with me, in the small space of my balcony instead of meters away from me. My hands are shaking as I push the door so I can get inside, but I can still feel the heaviness of his gaze on my back.
What is this?
Am I losing my mind?
Maybe choosing a horror movie was a bad idea tonight.
Night wakes up when I step inside, and his tail is in the air as he looks at me. Even he can feel something is wrong, he’s just as tense as me while he pads toward me.
“Nothing’s wrong, Handsome,” I breathe out, trying to convince both of us as I lift him into my arms.
After throwing empty dinner boxes into the trash, Night and I go to my room. I place him on my bed, and with the gnawing doubt, I look outside my bedroom window. Even though I see no one, the strange sensation of being watched shakes my insides.
I jump in my place when Night growls and jumps from my bed to go to the hallway. I grab the empty vase from the vanity, I follow Night to the hallway only to find him play with a magazine I keep on the coffee table.
Rolling my eyes, I snort at my own silliness. For a second, I thought someone got into my apartment, and it was the thing that made Night go crazy. I shake my head, going to the bathroom for a quick shower before bed. Maybe warm water will ease the weird tension on my body.
Chapter 8
Present
“I like you, Nikki.”
“You’re so beautiful, Nikki.”
“I love you, Nikki.”
His voice is still ringing in my ears when I open my eyes. I sit up on my bed, tears are wetting my cheeks.
Why? Why the hell am I having dreams about him?
I would prefer to dream anything rather than him.
Sleeping is the most chaotic thing in a person’s life. You can’t control it, you can’t decide what your subconscious will bring out to your dreams. I hate sleep. I hate that it always chooses the most painful memories to remind me.
Getting out of bed, I do what I always do. I suppress the pain of beautiful memories with the pain of horrible ones.
Caressing the smooth surface of the table I keep in my room even though I don’t do anything on it, I grab the key to unlock the drawer that’s never been opened for years and find the cheap notebook they gave me in prison. The color of the cover is faded, the pages are dog-eared, and it has a smell of history; sharp and acrid.
I open the first page. The page that’s full of words of a broken heart.
Dear Diary (this is how I should call you, right?)
I’ve never had a diary, but now I need you. Because I’m alone. I’ve never felt this alone in my life, not even when I was in that closet in my mother’s house or not even when I’ve been tortured in that cabin. All those times I had something to give me hope, I had a memory of someone with a warm smile.
Now, it’s gone. He’s gone.
I know I shouldn’t have told him about what happened. Now, he’s disgusted with me. He’s mortified.
He’s always been the bright light in my dark life, but now I’m too dark, and he’s too bright for me. Now, he’s the Sun, and I’m the black hole.
I told him not to come to see me again. I had to. Do you understand me? I had to do that. I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to lose him, but I can’t stand seeing the way he looks at me. It’s full of pity and disgust, and maybe even anger.
I’ll never ever forget the look on his face as he left, Diary.
