Dangerous Love(BOOK1)

28.

I was laying in bed, drifting off to sleep when my phone started going off. I open my eyes and grab it, once the light from my phone hits my eyes I go blind instantly. Squeezing my eyes shut, I answer the phone without seeing who it was.

"Hello?" I say groggily.

"I noticed you received my gifts." a low neutral voice echos through the phone.

I sit up quickly, fully awake. "Who is this?"

"Did you like them?"

"Andrew? Is that you?"

"Do you understand yet?"

"Understand what? Who is this? Why are you sending me crazy things!"

"Thats too bad. I guess I'll just wait longer."

"What?" I ask desperately.

No response.

"Hello? Andrew? Andrew is this you?"
Silence.

"Hello? This isnt funny, just tell me who you are?"

Click.

"Argh!!" I yell and punch the closest thing to me. Which was just my pillow.

Who the hell was that?! That sounded like Andrew, but yet it didnt. They know my phone number, and my address, my name even! Im starting to get a little freaked out. Im not even close to tired anymore. Now I just feel like someones watching me.

For some reason I get out of bed and walk straight to the two boxes in my livingroom. I stop infront of them, glaring but in thought. What do these have to do with anything. I pull out a random newspaper and read the headline.

'Known Drug Lord and Club Owner Fatally Shot in Middle of the Street'

I continue reading and realize something. This is the story about Johnson, the night he was killed. What the hell? I search the other box for the file with his information in it. Just to make sure it was the same person. And it was, I was so baffled. Maybe his death is the reason Im getting all this strange stuff.

Does someone think it was my fault?

××

I thought that for a good four or five days. It was hard to focus at work when all I can think about it those boxes, that call, Johnsons death, and Andrew. So much piled onto my very small plate.

To top it off, Rochelle just gave me another big project. Andrews replacement sat in his old desk, typing away on her computer. She was a young girl, close to the same age as me. Her name was Jessie, she has a lot less experience, but she learns quickly and gets the job done. My favorite part is that she does everything I tell her to, so I never have to get my own coffee anymore.

But of course we need to discuss the biggest brain block, Andrew. I am pretty convinced that was him in the phone the other night. It just didnt really feel like him. I still havent seen or heard anything from him, and I havent recieved anymore strange packages.

Well, thats what I thought until I was staring at my welcome mat, for ten feet away. My throat was dry, and I was a bit frightened. It may be because as soon as I got home a blocked number texted me, "theres a surprise for you."

It was another box, wrapped nicely in beautiful wrapping paper. I unlocked my door and stepped around it, acting as if it was poison. Once inside my house I continue to stare at it, mainly at the ragged handwriting. With the simple, Kristy.

A sudden burst of desperation fills my veins, and I grab the box. I quickly walk into my livingroom and toss the box in my hand on the couch. I walk over and grasp the other two boxes with a quick jerk and slam them onto my coffee table. My body slams down onto the couch and I rip open the pretty box, revealing what lays inside.

You want me to understand? Ill understand.

I dont know if you realize how frusterating it is, to only find disgusting pictures of dead bodies surrounded in their own blood. I was expecting answers. All I get are gruesome photos! I look through the other boxes, hoping to find some sort of clue. Why am I getting this? I am honestly becoming really terrified. But deep down, the feeling was exciting me and I wanted to know more.

No, I Need To Know More.