Trapped

Chapter 9

It's been two weeks since the day I left the hospital, summer has officially started and I'm absolutely bored. I haven't left the house at all because the officers assigned to my case are trying to "protect" me. I personally don't think being cooped up in my house for my entire life is protecting me more than it is allowing the creep who caused all this to get away. They don't think he'll run, but who knows. I've been in this house for two weeks and no one seems to have any clue where my stalker is.

    On top of not being able to leave the premises, I am not allowed to tell anyone of the situation that doesn't already know. All of my best friends and close relatives don't know a thing. My name and picture have been kept from news reports and social media sites so as not to alarm anyone close to me of the investigation. I am honestly surprised that nothing has been leaked yet.

    I sit with my legs crossed on the couch in the living room. Since I am still a crucial part of the investigation and a victim, I have to have at least one person with me at all times and most of the time that person is a police officer or someone from the hospital staff that treated me while I was there. Right now an FBI agent is standing with his arms crossed leaning up against a wall by the doorway. He was asking me questions but is now talking to another agent about the case. She came bustling in so there must be important news concerning me or James Daniels, my stalker.

    I stand and take a few steps forward so I can hear the conversation, but as soon as they see I have moved from my position on the couch, they stop talking. "What is it?" I ask earnestly. I am a part of this case whether they like it or not and I deserve to know what is going on.

    They glance between each other before saying that it is classified information and cannot be released to anyone, not even me. Especially not me. I look between them astonished, but I don't have the will to fight. I've been fighting for the past two weeks and it's done me no good so far. Why should it do me any good now?

I slink back down on the couch and shove my hands into my sweatshirt pockets. I have given up on appearances and am now wearing gray sweatpants and my favorite black sweatshirt given to me by Aiden when I was sick with the flu. He wanted to cheer me up and came over to the house one day. We sat and talked and I got really cold and he gave me his hoodie. I haven't ever given it back and he hasn't asked for it back so I'm keeping it.

    I shove my cold, bear feet beneath me and close my eyes. A moment later I feel the cushions next to me sink under someone's weight. I open my eyes and turn my head to see Agent Ramirez sitting on the beige couch looking me in the eyes. He has a look that says he's sorry for all that is happening. I've been around him so much these past couple weeks that we talk like we're related. At this point, he is an overly cautious uncle to me.

    "How you holdin' up?" He asks, concerned. I look at him with this "are you kidding me" expression on my face, practically rolling my eyes at the stupid question. He holds his hands up by his shoulders, palms out in an over exaggerated apology.

    "Any news?" I ask even though I know I'm not going to get much out of him. All he can ever give me are vague explanations. I guess I understand. They don't want to put me in any more danger than I'm already in by knowing this information, but I kind of wish they would give me something more.

    "We're following a lead." He looks away from me and at the fireplace several feet in front of us. "One that you don't need to worry yourself with." When I don't give him a response and just stare at the black television screen above the fireplace, he says in an emphasized tone of voice, "Okay?" I turn back to his dark brown eyes and reply with a simple "okay".

    I lay my head back and close my eyes and Detective Ramirez pats my shoulder and starts to stand before I grab his wrist. "Where are you going?" I state, exasperated.