Sand In My Boots: The Sequel

Chapter 10

"Are you sure you're okay with this? I can tell him no and stay with you if you'd rather-"

"It'll be fine," I assured him.

Ernest had called Morgan shortly after we had gotten out of the shower, telling him to meet him in the studio. He had said he had a killer idea for a new song and that they needed to work on it ASAP. Even though the studio was a mere 10 minute drive away, Morgan still wasn't convinced that leaving me alone in the house with a stalker on the loose was a good idea. Hell, I'm not convinced it's a good idea. But, the last thing I wanted was for this whole thing to affect his career more than it already had. So, I had decided to put on my big girl pants and insist that I was okay with the idea. I'm not, but he doesn't need to know that.

"I'll be back before you know it. I'll make this quick, I promise," he said, leaning into a kiss. "And if there's anything -and I mean anything at all, Aubrey- you call me. Right away. And I will break the sound barrier. I swear to God-"

"I'll be fine, baby," I lied. "I'll just put on the alarm the minute you leave and chill until you get back. You don't have to worry about me."

"You sure?" He asked for the hundredth time. I rolled my eyes.

"Go, before I change my mind," I insisted. He gave me a quick peck on the lips and made his way towards the front door.

"Anything at all, Aubrey. I'm serious," he repeated before shutting the door behind him and disappearing into the night. I let out a sigh and quickly locked the door and set the alarm.

***

Morgan had been gone for all of twenty minutes and the house was dead silent. I looked around anxiously for what seemed to be the thousandth time and giggled to myself. Stop being ridiculous. Monsters aren't real. No one's gonna jump out. Chill the fuck out. I exhaled softly, turned on the TV and let myself fall onto the living room couch. Below Deck Med was on. Let's see who Captain Sandy's gonna fire this week. I abandoned myself into the show and tried to relax the best I could, nervously biting my nails.

My phone buzzed against the couch cushion and I picked it up quickly, looking at the screen. As soon as I read the text my blood ran cold.

UNKNOWN, 8:58 PM: You shouldn't bite your nails. Terrible habit, Aubrey Jean.

My head started spinning and I focused on the painting on the wall next to me, trying to make the walls stop moving around me. I took a deep breath in and as soon as my vision stabilized, I looked around, trying to figure out where the fuck this psycho could be hiding. There was no way they could be in the house, the alarm would've gone off. I could feel their gaze on me. I knew they were in the yard. Watching me. Getting off on the visible fear drawing itself on my features.

I picked up my phone to text Morgan and another text came through.

UNKNOWN, 9:01 PM: I can guarantee you that Morgan won't make it past the front porch if you try to get him here. This is our moment, baby. Let us have it.

I swallowed hard, trying to fight the vomit at the bottom of my throat threatening to come up. Think, Aubrey. Think. Breathe. Think. Breathe. Think. Breathe. But I couldn't think and I couldn't breathe and all I wanted was for Morgan to come home and hold me in his arms and tell me that everything was okay. But everything was not okay. Nothing was okay. There was a psycho, staring at me from somewhere in my yard, hidden in the bushes or behind the tree house, waiting for me to make a move to terrify me further. Threatening me, threatening my fiancé, in our house, in our kids' house. I felt the anger rush through my bones.