Because, Brett... [BxB]

Chapter 14: Just A Trip

I wake with a start. Sweat has collected on my burning skin and in sheer terror, I claw at my throat to relieve the pressure there. I have to remind myself over and over that it wasn't real, that the R that haunts my nights isn't real. He's a figment of my imagination that I conjure in the midst of sleep.

Not real.

Not real.

Not real.

Despite the internal chanting, I continue to hyperventilate. Each haunted night, it grows worse, sometimes on the brink of a panic attack. I'm so scared that one day I'll just trip over the edge into insanity.

"Brett?" Seth flicks the lamp on that sits on the nightstand. His eyes scan over my figure and I try so hard to get my emotions under control. This is the first time he's seen me like this. A month in and this is the first time he's seen the fear that lies behind the witty boyfriend. I can't keep it under wraps though. I'm a car that's falling apart piece by piece. Each time another is lost, everything becomes so much harder to control. It's only a matter of time before I crash.

I bury my face in my hands, not wanting him to see my puffy eyes and the salt silently streaming down my cheeks.

"Shh," he comforts, an arm wrapping around me even though he has no idea what torments me, "you're okay. I'm here and you're okay."

Nodding, I allow myself to melt into his embrace. "Not real." I repeat out loud this time, hoping it'll force the message to sink in. "He's not fucking real." I sob. I can feel myself beginning to crack and break in his arms, yet I hold the worst of it in. Inhale. Exhale.

After a few minutes, my laboured breaths shallow, the tears stop and the hallucinated tightness in my throat dissipates. Nevertheless, Seth continues to hold me, as if he's the framework holding everything together.

"What happened?" He finally asks.

"Nightmare."

He nods, acknowledging, and I can tell he's dying to ask more. I can feel his unsteady breaths against my neck as he debates it in his head and anticipate it as the words spill from his perfect lips: "Who was he?" He asks. "Who were you dreaming about?"

Inhale. Exhale. I try to hold the images at bay, to keep the burning tightness away. I don't want anyone else to know because I don't think I could handle the thought of this all being real. The more people I tell, the more difficult it becomes to pretend that it's my own sick mind playing tricks on me. I have to come clean to him though, don't I? We're getting closer every minute. We're serious. Boyfriends. To not tell him about something as consequential as a stalker would be to sabotage everything we're building.

Pulling myself together, I push away from his warming embrace. The eyes that stare at me through the barely illuminated darkness are laced with concern. Anxiety prickles against the surface, but as his hand reaches to brush over my own, I bury it.

"I have a stalker."

The words float in dead air for seconds before he replies. "Is it serious?"

I shrug simply because I don't know. "I just catch glimpses here and there. And he sent me a letter once. It was creepy, mentioning how he's watching me and wants to meet me." I look down to avoid Seth's gaze. "You know how the mind is though, it blows things out of proportion."

"He sent you a letter?"

I fiddle with my fingers and nod. "He wanted me to reply. Left an address on the back. I wrote to him to meet me but he never did. That was that day you talked to me at Starbucks."

A heavy sigh leaves his lips and I sag against him, exhausted from my fretful rest. He says nothing though, and I'm not sure quite how to take it. Until he whispers, "C'mon, sleep," and we nuzzle back down into his soft mattress, him hugging me to his chest.

Choosing to believe that he needs time to think, I'm happy to give him that. But I don't close my eyes for the rest of the night and I don't sleep. My focus is solely on the warmth of him against my back and the levelling of his breaths as he falls into his own peaceful slumber. A luxury I can't afford.

+ + +

47 Lakeman Close, Westgate is a dump. The building is a mass of cracks and crumbles before my eyes, I would be concerned if anyone inhabited it. But apparently, R does. Beside me, Seth stands wide-eyed and runs a hand over his stubble as he thinks things over. It was his idea to come here after all.

"This is definitely the address he gave you?"

I nod. I triple checked the letter, this is what was written. This tiny, falling down council house is where my stalker supposedly lives.

Hand snug in mine, Seth begins to drag me towards the front door. At first, panic surges, a nauseous wave that causes me to stop in my tracks, simply because: what if R is behind the door? We're in the dingy side of town, no one else is around and if he pulled a gun or even a knife on us we'd be screwed.

"He could be a psycho," I say, sharing my thoughts and Seth takes both my hands in his, "he could kill us."

Seth's thumbs run over my skin soothingly as he sighs out a breath, "Everything will be fine," He reassures, but he doesn't see what I see. Sleeping is a chore to me. The fear claws at my insides whenever I close my eyes and feel R's scolding fingers slither around my throat. It's irrational and that's what terrifies me more than anything. Fear of the unknown. Fear of the darkness which could be hiding behind those piercing eyes just waiting to pounce.

"You don't know that," I say.

"I do. I'll ensure it."

I allow him to continue, drawing me closer to the council house from hell. A deep breath or two clears my thoughts slightly and I squeeze his hand as he knocks on the faded wood. And we wait. . .

Nothing.

Seth releases my hand to peer through the barely-transparent window and I back off to the left a little to see if there is anything noticeable as odd. Such as a silhouette scurrying across in front of the living room window?

"There's someone in there," I notify. Turning his attention to me, Seth's gaze follows my outstretched finger which I have directed towards where I saw the figure. "I saw them move."

He strides over, getting a closer look and tentatively, I follow in his footsteps. "See anything?"

"No, you're sure someone was there?"

"I saw them with my own eyes."

Seth tries the door again but just as before, no one answers. He turns to look back at me, "I honestly don't think that this guy lives here." He's blunt. "I don't think anyone lives here."

My eyes travel to the gravel and I scuff my shoe against it trying to rid the anxiety of everything. "I saw something," I mumble.

"It could've been a trick of the light," he doesn't believe me, "this building looks about ready to collapse and no one in their right mind would risk living here."

I was so sure, but I know he's right. No one in their right mind would live somewhere like this, just as no one in their right mind would give their address to the person they're stalking. It stings somewhat that the only lead we had to go on was likely a waste of time, but there's no point in crying over spilt milk.

Just as we're about to leave, a small black cat skulks out from behind the corner of the building and Seth's suspicions are confirmed. That silhouette was just a cat. Nothing more.

Solemnly, we retreat from the building back to Seth's car. With an apologetic glance my way, he shifts into gear and pulls off the curb and into the road. About halfway home, the rain begins to come down. First as just a spit here and there but then it starts. Torrential. The weather is always like this, unpredictable, it's a perk of the area, keeps things interesting. Rain though, it haunts me. R hides between the sheets of water in my night terrors. It's become so drilled into me that the two come as a package -- the cooling of the drops running down my skin and his searing digits squeezing the life from me.

"Can I stay with you tonight?" I look to Seth for a response.

"Course," he simpers and the knowledge that I won't be alone suffocating tonight sends a ray of light through the clouds, "but I think you should go to the police about this if you're sure."

I gulp.