"Right then, I knew there was something different about you and I just...I needed to know you."
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Myrtle Beach is just one of those cities where you never know what you're going to get. One day it can be all smiles and rainbows, and the nex...
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I miss the happiness of yesterday.
The joys of winning at something I'm good at.
The reward? A hug from someone I'm growing to consider a close friend.
I don't enjoy feeling exposed, vulnerable. As though I'm at the mercy of another person, but that's exactly how I feel right now.
The trigger? A text.
From who? The devil incarnate.
No, that's too good for him. He's far worse than that, if evil beyond that exists. I've been in the corner of my room for who knows how long, legs pulled tightly to my chest, nail beds picked until they bled. I have no idea how he got my phone number. I can't even figure out how he texted me, his number is blocked. Quite honestly, I don't want to know.
What did it say? I'll be there soon, sweetheart.
Five simple words. Usually, they wouldn't seem so sinister, so hostile, but they are. And it's tearing me up inside.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Three knocks sends my beating heart into a frenzy. Cold sweat slides down my face, my back. Every hair on my body raises.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Three more. My head is pounding, The room is spinning. I feel like I'm going to vomit or faint. Maybe both.
Probably both.
"Dove? Sweetie, it's Selene. Can I come in?"
I finally let myself breathe. Unfortunately, it results in a coughing fit, my lungs raw from the lack of oxygen. While it wasn't a full blown panic attack, it got pretty damn close. Selene takes the violent hacking as permission to enter, which I don't mind. I was going to tell her she could, but I just couldn't.
She looks around the room before her eyes finally land on mine, becoming soft and heavy with concern. "Dovey, what's the matter? What happened?"
Selene carefully approaches, trying not to frighten me. She sits down, glancing at my phone, still open on the text message. "Are your texts what's got you all wound up?"
I nod. She picks up the phone, and as she reads the text, all the color drains from her golden skin.
"Dove, I—"
"Did you give my number to him?" I ask, finally able to formulate words.
"No! Never, I swear! I don't know how Mick got your number." Her response makes me feel bad for even considering the thought, but I can't help it. He's her brother after all.
Although the text itself is alarming, the truth in it is even more terrifying. I have lived in this house my entire life. Even after Dad moved, I stayed for college. He knows where I live. I have countless memories of him in this house. Some good, but the overwhelming majority are so awful that I've forced myself to forget most.
