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And, truthfully, I’d forgotten all about this stupid letter, otherwise I would’ve ripped it up and tossed it in the trash myself.
Damn it. This sucked.
“And don’t even think about it,” he told me. “I have a picture of that letter on my phone for safe keeping, along with a video of everything I found in the treehouse. There’s no cleaning up this mess, Charlie. I know all your secrets.”
He thought he knew all of my secrets, but he didn’t. Unless…
“So I either tell your parents about this, or I don’t,” Uncle Dave said. “It’s up to you, Charlie.” His voice quieted when he added, “You should know, though, that I’ll need some convincing if you want me to keep this to myself.”
That sickening feeling swept over me, the same feeling I always got when I thought about him and the things he made me do. It’d been so long since I’d seen him, longer than that since he’d had the opportunity to do things to me.
Suddenly the notion of being a stronger Charlie was gone, nothing but a wish a little girl hoped for. Gone, just like that.
“Convincing?” I whispered, the word tasting wrong on my tongue. I knew what he wanted. Of course I did. I wasn’t ten and stupid anymore. I knew exactly what Uncle Dave had in mind.
He let out a short chuckle, and then he stepped away from me, giving me some much needed space. “Come on, Charlie. We both know what I want. That Ian guy is no good for you. What could someone like him ever give you, hmm?”
I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t really think. I couldn’t do anything beyond stand there and wonder how the hell it had come to this. I shouldn’t be surprised that Uncle Dave had looked for something he could lord over me, something to keep me quiet.
It was my stupid mistake for giving him the ammunition he needed.
He went to the coffee table and picked up the blade, careful not to cut himself. He held it between us, the shiny steel glimmering in the light. “I think I’ll keep this.” He slid it into his pocket and tapped the outside of that same pocket once it was safely inside. “Never know when it might come in handy.”
Why… why would he need to keep that? Unless he was planning on using it. Not on him, but on me.
My knees almost gave out when I came to the realization that this blackmail wasn’t just about Brett and keeping my suicidal tendencies a secret. No. He was threateningme. He could make it seem like I’d killed myself, and my parents would be none the wiser. Too blind, as he’d said.
Uncle Dave took my weakening figure to his advantage, catching me with an arm while simultaneously yanking the letter out of my hands. “I’ll take this, too,” he said, stuffing it into his back pocket. “Your handwriting is… a lot messier than I would’ve guessed. I could never replicate it myself.”
I could barely stay on my feet, even with his help. The room spun around me, my body the only thing remaining still. My chest constricted, everything tight inside, and his hand on my arm made it worse.
“Charlie,” he whispered my name as he helped me sit on the sectional, the part that jutted out from the wall. “I knew we’d find our way back to each other. I didn’t think it’d be like this, but beggars can’t be choosers.”
He sat on the edge of the couch, beside me, and he leaned into me, his mouth near my ear as he said, “I told you you were mine, didn’t I?” One of his hands went to my knee, slow to creep up, past the point it should. “You’re mine. You’ll always be mine.”
His voice and the words he said sounded dangerously close to my mysterious stalker. As the room continued to spin around me, as I began to shrink into myself, I couldn’t help but wonder if my worst nightmare and my stalker were one and the same.
Leaning his nose against my cheek, he breathed me in as his hand reached my inner thigh. “And if I can’t have you, I’ll make sure no one can.”
The threat was as intimidating as a jagged, sharp knife against my throat. I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t say anything. I had a serial killer on my side, a man I think I loved, and yet nothing terrified me more than the man currently rubbing me over my jeans.
Brett could kill any Joe Schmoe any day, but Dave Mulanie was no Joe Schmoe. He was the devil incarnate, and if anyone could take Brett down, it was him. Was I willing to pit the two against the other and pray Brett would be the winner? Could I take that chance?
I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know if there was anything I could do. Losing Brett would break me into a million pieces, shatter me irreparably—and losing him to Dave would be even worse.
I guess, in the end, the stalker always won.
Chapter Fifteen – Brett
I got some sleep after getting back to the treehouse. I had to cover my head with a shirt to try to stimulate nighttime. It wasn’t too difficult for me to fall asleep; lately my sleeping schedule had been all out of whack, thanks to one aggravating and addicting girl named Charlie.
I set my alarm for eight-thirty, which gave me enough time to wake myself up, eat a little something, take a piss—I was saving my shits for the rec now—and get ready to watch the house overnight.
Charlie hadn’t brought up her stalker in a while, but I was well aware the man was still out there somewhere, waiting. Watching, just like I was. Hoping for a way in.
Good luck to him. Now that I was on guard, he’d have to be fucking invisible to get inside that house and into Charlie’s room without me noticing.
Clouds covered the moon tonight, making it a really dark night. I stood in the shadows of the backyard, watching. Every so often I circled the house carefully, making sure nothing was out of place.
