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“You’re not. You and Marie are some of the few good ones. What’s up?”
“I know Marie talked to you about a double tomorrow, and I hate to ask, but I know you’re always up for extra cash. Can you come in even earlier?”
Frowning, I said, “We don’t open until eleven.”
He looked pained. “I know, but that’s the day the delivery truck comes. Ryan usually comes in that day to help me unload, but he can’t make it. Marie said I shouldn’t ask since it’s a lot of heavy lifting, but it’ll only be four hours, and I can pay thirteen bucks an hour, plus I’ll get you a free burger and fries for lunch to say thanks for the last-minute help. I wanted to offer you before I asked any of the cooks. What do you say?”
The math added up quickly in my head. The thought of a whole burger made my jaws clench as saliva flooded my mouth. “Cash?” I asked.
Clint grinned. “What Uncle Sam doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”
“Okay, yeah, I can do that. I might need help with those fifty-pound sacks of potatoes and stuff.” I held up one finger. “I want onion rings with my burger, not fries.”
Clint grinned, already heading back to the dining room. “You got it, princess. I’ll be here to help. See you in the morning.”
Not long after our conversation, I left for the night. The walk home wasn’t the same as yesterday. For one, without the festival, the streets were darker and far less welcoming. For another, I wasn’t feeling well. I’d barely had anything to eat since the night before. My blood sugar must’ve been totally fucked up. I was almost lightheaded and more tired than I’d been in a while.
With how busy we’d been, the memory of being watched that morning had vanished, pushed to the back of my mind by the dozens and dozens of little requests I’d had to take care of throughout the day for customers. It returned as I made my way home, that pervasive sensation that eyes were on me.
Speeding up my stride, the weakness disappeared, my exhaustion forgotten. I may have been paranoid, but I couldn’t shake this damn feeling. Could it be Carlos? Had he gone and found the locks changed while I was at work? He’d be angry. He hated taking damage to his ego. Would he have been mad enough to stalk me from work though? Maybe to check and make sure I’d really been there, but it didn’t seem like Carlos to take the time to walk behind me or stalk me.
The jerk liked being the center of attention. He couldn’t have stalked me quietly.
I turned and looked back toward the way I’d come. No one seemed to be following. There were a lot of shadows, though. I walked even faster, nearly jogging now. My mind constructed a thousand different scenarios. That guy the day before with the tattoos. Had he followed me home? Was he going to jump out of an alley, club me in the head, and then rape me next to a dumpster? Nightmare after nightmare flashed through my mind, like a hundred little horror movies. Some were memories of things that had actually happened to me. Those were worse than some of the stuff I made up. They were more detailed, and despite the therapy, I couldn’t stop them once they got started.
By the time I got to my apartment, I was nearly hyperventilating, and my walk had turned to a moderate jog. Inside the hallway, I took a breath. Only when I was inside my apartment would I truly feel safe. Hustling past the other doors, I tugged my shiny new key out and unlocked the door and the deadbolt as fast as my shaking fingers would move.
Rushing in, I slammed the door and threw the locks on. Allowing myself a few seconds to catch my breath, I leaned against the door and rested my hands on my knees, bent over, desperately trying to stave off a panic attack. I hadn’t even taken the time to turn the lights on.
I found myself in this position—leaning against my door, panicked and out of breath—far too often after walking home from work. If Carlos hadn’t cleaned me out, I might’ve sprung for a bus pass.
After my heart rate lowered, I raised a hand and flipped the light switch. Nothing happened. Frowning, I flicked it up and down a few times then walked over to the kitchen and tried the light there. Nothing. Fuck. Had I paid the bill? I spun my memory back to the end of the previous month. I was positive I’d put the electric, gas, and water bill in the mail. Could it have been lost by the post? I was fairly sure the electric company usually gave a warning before they shut stuff off. I had no idea. I’d somehow managed to keep the lights on thus far in my life.
There was one way to know if it was a building issue or just me. I could ask Paul and Suzy if their power was out. I’d bugged them the night before though. Would they tell me off for disturbing them two nights in a row? What if their power wasn’t out? They’d think I was some deadbeat who couldn’t pay her bills.
After spending five minutes debating with myself, I finally opened the door to ask. Feeling stupid, I checked the hallway before coming out. The memory of being watched was still a shadow over my mind. The hall lights weren’t on, but those went out all the time. It wasn’t unusual for those lights to be out for months before the landlord had someone replace them. There was still light shining through the windows from the streetlights outside. The shadows in the hallway did not help my paranoia, but I’d already committed.
Sighing, I stepped across the hall, leaving my door open so I could jump back in and lock it if anyone appeared around a corner. I knocked twice, tentatively, and waited. No one came to the door. Maybe I’d been too quiet. I knocked again, louder. Still nothing. I leaned toward Paul and Suzy’s door. I didn’t hear anything. No sound at all. I couldn’t remember a time when there wasn’t some kind of noise coming from their apartment. Crying babies, television, voices. Something.
A feeling like ants crawling up my back brought worry and panic with it. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. I spun away from their door to run back into my apartment, but a dark figure all in black stood in front of me. Too shocked and surprised to shriek, all I could do was let out a tiny mewl of confusion as every horrible fear I’d had on the way home slammed into me at once. Arms reached out with gloved hands extending toward me. Something in the hand. A sharp stabbing pain in my neck. Darkness. Nothing.
Chapter 4
God, what an awful nightmare. I lay in bed, eyes still closed, remembering the terror of the dark figure attacking me. The heaviness of their hands, the sharp pin prick at my neck, and the feeling that everything was over. I was going to die.
I stretched my arms and legs, then froze. My mattress that lay on the floor of my apartment was a tiny twin I’d purchased from a used furniture site. It was older than I was. Lumpy, thin, and uncomfortable. What I lay on was thickly padded, soft, and bouncy. It didn’t have that stale musty smell, and it was bigger too. My feet weren’t off the edge like they should’ve been.
My eyes snapped open. One quick glance around the room sent a sharp intake of breath jolting into my chest. This wasn’t my room.
It hadn’t been a dream.
My pulse hammered like thunder in my ears. The icy trickling sensation of adrenaline pulsed into my body and overtook me. Raising my hand to my neck, I touched my throat. The last thing I remembered was that sharp stab of pain. Sure enough, it was sore in the exact spot I’d been stabbed with the needle or syringe in the hallway.
Moving as slowly as I could, I glanced around for the dark stranger. My eyes darted like a panicked and caged animal. I couldn’t slow them, they kept pace with my heart.
The room was empty, but there was a strange high-pitched keening sound, and it took me a second to realize it was coming from me. A panicked moan that made me sound like I’d lost my mind. Fuck, maybe I had. A cold sweat had formed on my body while I was unconscious, soaking the sheets.
I leaped from the bed and sprinted to the closest door. Clutching frantically at the doorknob, I yanked it open. A bathroom. At a glance, it was small but nice. A toilet, a stall shower, and a sink, but all with high-end finishes like tile, brass, marble, and shimmering glass.
