After a restless night, I woke up and headed downstairs for breakfast. Brandon was already in the kitchen talking to their personal chef about sports or some man related crap like that. As soon as I walked in, he turned to me with a frightened look on his face.
"He's here," was all he stated.
"Huh? Who's here?" I asked sleepily while suppressing a yawn.
"Damon. He managed to get in through the back entrance. The guard told me he saw a suspicious person through the security camera and he already tried to get in through the front way early this morning."
"What?" I stammered. "When was all this?"
"Well he tried the front gate around 3am and successfully entered through the back gate around 6am this morning."
"You've gotta be kidding me. Wait why can't the guard grab him and get him outta here?"
"We can't find him."
I couldn't believe it. It had not even been a full 24 hours since I left home, and he'd already found me. Damn phone tracker. I used to be able to shut it off and disable the tracker, but no longer. He cleverly saw right through that scheme. I could already see him frantically trying to book the next flight out to New York and yelling at the poor flight representatives that it was an emergency and all.
However, I cared more about the fact he was starting to affect Brandon's life now, not so much that he was here. That really happened all the time anyways. I had merely gotten used to it. I blamed myself for starting this entire thing because I was the one who met him and showed Hannah the file. If I hadn't had met him, maybe he wouldn't have become so attached to me or maybe he would have just given up and left us all alone. But some people claim that if he wasn't constantly over my house, Hannah would simply be in my place.
The blame game could continue infinitely. We could blame Damon's company for giving him his sick job or his parents for giving birth to him. We could put the spotlight on my parents for moving to Georgia or our school principal for offering AP Physics in the first place. Obviously, this logic is flawed and society is accustomed to blaming those who are closely associated with the misdeed and who could have consciously controlled the situation. I feel I am the most closely associated (besides Damon of course) and I also had complete conscious control over locating physics files and making the decision to meet him.
So logically, I blame myself.
"Brandon?" the real Brandon questioned.
"Huh?"
"I asked you a question, and you were just staring blankly at the wall. Are you ok?"
"Yeah, fine why? I was just thinking of uh some breakfast options."
"Cut the crap, Brandon. I know you're stressing that Damon's here. You might not realize it, but he's really changed you. For the worse. You're not like you used to be. Why can't you call the cops and report him?"
Just then I heard the sizzling of pancake batter on a skillet, which reminded me that their chef was probably intently listening to our discussion.
"I'll tell you a little later," I told him gesturing to the chef and hoping he'd forget.
"Alright. We should go out later."
"Yeah, we should."
A few hours later we were both upstairs trying to look presentable for going out. He was shaving and I was madly trying to get the knots out of my hair due to the lack of shampoo/conditioner last night. We were about 5 minutes within being ready when the doorbell rang. My stomach sank and my heart started racing - I bet it was Damon.
