Shadowed

Skylar - The Week Before

It's so early.

Through bleary eyes I'm able to see that the bright numbers on my phone show that it's five thirty. An hour earlier than when I would usually wake up.

Go... You have to go... He's waiting for you...

He can wait. I roll over and plant my face firmly into the cool side of the pillow, determined to fall back to sleep. My brain won't let me rest though, it knows how much I want to see Logan.

I doze for another ten minutes before sliding my legs out of bed and on to the floor, groaning loudly as I end up in a sort of slouched kneel at my bedside. I take a break, since the process seems so exhausting, before standing up and stretching. Now I'm good to go.

Yanking the covers back up to the top of the bed messily, I rub at my eyes and glance at the envelope on my bedside table; just like I have in almost every spare second of my time lately.

It's grown thicker these past few weeks. I have a total of five letters now. Well, that is if you can call them that. They were all index cards, with a simple sentence or two on each one.

Hello Beautiful.

I just wanted to let you know that you're beautiful.

Hello gorgeous, how's my girl today?

Do you remember when we first met?

Do you have any idea what I want to do to you?

The familiar, anxiety ridden, pit-like feeling I get whenever I think of the letters enters my belly again and I place a hand over it absentmindedly, trying to soothe the stress that instantly spikes in my body.

They were always in the mailbox. My mom didn't seem to notice, although she had been the one to give me the other four. After the first one arrived in the mail with my dad's postcard, I started shoving all of them in the same envelope as I got them. I don't know why I don't just throw them away, I mean, they're kind of creepy as hell. I guess some part of my brain wanted, no, wants to believe that whoever was sending them meant what they said...

Pathetic. My mind sneers.

The whole thing is shady, that much I'm sure of. If they were real, I'm pretty sure whoever was sending them would choose a less serial-killer way of giving them to me.

It had to be some stupid joke. A mean joke. By my friends maybe? I'd probably cry if I found out it was Mallory.

I tear my eyes away from the envelope, staring at it isn't going to give me any answers.

"I can't deal with you right now." I sigh to the notes before turning my back on them and grabbing my clothes to go get in the shower.

~*~*~*~*~

"You look tired." Mallory says thoughtfully, throwing me a glance before quickly slamming on the breaks at the red light she almost ran.

I throw my hands out to brace myself as my spine tightens to keep myself from flying forward. I love Mallory with all my heart, but I swear to god that if I die an early death it will be from her driving skills.

"Whoops, sorry." She breathes, smiling sheepishly at the steering wheel. I sigh and let my hands fall back in my lap, my stomach a jumble of nerves from my near death experience and the anticipation of seeing Logan. I'm tempted to tell her that I'm actually stressing about who the notes are from, or that the possibility of them being from her hurts me more than I can fathom.

"I hate getting up early." I lie, yawning for effect. Mallory nods solemnly as she starts driving again, pulling into a sharp left hand turn that makes my stomach drop.