Taylor West is the epitome of self-reliance. Or she must be. Relationships are fickle. Despite finally enrolling in her dream studies and thriving in them, her social life is only skin-deep. When she finds out that her so-called boyfriend is a selfi...
On Friday night, a nameless package waited at my door. I halted abruptly, my chest clenching. It didn't move. Or erupt. Or do anything really. Maybe the stupid letters were stressing me out.
How long had it been sitting there? On impulse, I dashed towards the second staircase that led to the small backyard and peered down. Then I ran back out front, only stopping short at the end of the steps. My gaze swept the premises, but I couldn't see anyone.
Damn it.
I carried the package inside and placed it atop my kitchen table where it stood innocently and unmoving. Okay, then. I could open it now and live with whatever cryptic message had been delivered this time. Or I could spend the next few hours wondering what was inside.
A long sigh escaped me.
With a pounding heart, I reached for a knife and opened it carefully. The insides were filled with ripped newspaper articles. The note was probably hidden inside. I should just throw it away. This was really getting old.
I reached into the box and dug through the piles of paper, searching for a folded letter. Something sharp pierced my skin and I let out a yelp as pain shot up my hands. Fresh blood ran down my palm, the red liquid dripping onto the table. I shifted the papers and shards of a broken mirror reflected the ceiling lights.
Well, that was just great.
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As I raised my head from the pillow, a shower of flaky, dry skin cells drifted down and landed on my already-sprinkled pillow. With only one hand, I spent more than five minutes trying to scrub them away. It felt as if my whole face was shedding. Another great thing to add to my amazing week.
My hand throbbed and I absentmindedly picked at the gauze wrapped around it. God knew how unclean that glass properly had been. I shuddered, my nails running up and down my arm. The broken glass had left two deep cuts, one ran across my palm, and the second, a smaller one was on the side of my ring finger. At least it was Saturday and I had nothing planned except for studying.
As it turned out, not even quantum mechanics could distract me. The numbers swam across my vision. I couldn't focus.
A car door slammed outside. I darted to the window and peered outside. A few houses down, a couple unloaded groceries. Aside from that, the dark streets were empty. I looked through the peephole in my entrance door, but the hallway was empty as well.
Okay, getting paranoid wasn't getting me anywhere. I should do something. Anything. Maybe start CS:GO and play a few matches. But the dull throb in my hand reminded me that I probably shouldn't.
Laundry felt like a safe choice, but as soon as I picked up a pile of clothes, muffled voices sounded from the hallway, followed by the sound of a door falling shut. With stiff arms, I dropped the basket to look through the peephole. What if whoever did this came again?
The lights were on and after a few moments, Sofia appeared talking and holding her phone in one hand and a small bin in the other.
Wow. Now I was spying on Sofia. God, this was so stupid! This prank was getting out of hand and it was pissing me off. It was either getting pissed or freaking out, which I refused to do, because that was exactly what the pseudo-stalker wanted, right? Well, fat chance.
