The Scars She Hides

Part 10 - The Nice Stalker

CHARLOTTE

I fell into a new routine.

A quite one.

A silent one.

I spoke to no one during school hours. My teachers gave me quite a bit of leeway, letting me hide in the back of my classes with my hood drawn. I mean, if I got all my work turned in, they couldn't complain right? I felt a little guilt at playing the "dead mother" card, but I did in fact have a dead mother, and I was in fact having a hard time. The teachers had no response to my silent treatment. 

I avoided the cafeteria like the plague, though it's not like I was there often before. I spent most lunches in the nurses office, with a not so fake headache. I could tell that my health was less than ideal, and my body was letting me know regularly these days. Headaches, nausea, tremors, dizziness, fatigue... the list goes on. The nurse never asked any questions, just let me sit in the corner bay and nibble on some crackers most days.

I filled my spare time with editing Holden's paper...almost religiously. I had become well versed in all things having to do with electromyogram signals, and the impact they have on the future of robotic prosthetics.

I couldn't figure out why this project was so important to Holden. He worked on this paper and the small porcelain hand like it was his life's work, not just a school project. He reviewed my edits on his paper daily, and made adjustments almost as often. This made editing next to impossible. He was always changing and adding and rewriting, it was hard to pin down exactly what he was intending on keeping.

I hadn't found any more notes since my return to school, which was a blessing and a curse. Maybe the stalker had forgotten me.... Or maybe he was just biding his time for something bigger. Either way my nerves were at an all time high.

I had resumed my caffeine addiction, much to Holden's dismay. One could only stay awake naturally for so long before they required chemical assistance.

Speaking of chemical assistance...

Someone had snitched to- I mean "informed" my psychiatrist that I had not been taking my medication regularly. Or at all had gone through my mind, when I was confronted by Dr. Terry. Another stalker to add to my list of worries it seemed. Except this time it was one "concerned for my health and well being" according to Terry.

I don't know which stalker was more of a threat at this point, the aggressive one or the "nice" one. 

I knew the snitch had to be an adult in my life, one who was aware of my weekly meetings with Dr. Terry. That narrowed it down to the teachers/staff I saw daily and my grandparents.

...and Holden.

I wasn't sure how much he knew, technically being an adult/teacher figure in my life. How much had the school told him? Did he know everything?

My prescription bottle rattled as I pulled my backpack on, and I could hear the faint jiggle of pills as I walked across campus towards suspect number 1.

There was only one way to find out.