The box itself looked harmless, but that didn't mean anything. My body was locked in tension as I debated on what to do.
Maybe it was from the guys. They had keys to my apartment after all, I tried to calm myself down, but no matter how hard I tried, it didn't make me any less scared. It was one thing to sneak into my apartment to fix my ceiling and shower as a surprise while we were still together and another thing to invade my space with a gift—or whatever the hell this was—while we were on a break. So no, I didn't think this was from one of the guys.
After what felt like ages, I eventually gathered up enough courage to inch my way toward the bed. My hand shook as I reached for the lid and carefully lifted it. As soon as I saw something inside of it, I jumped back and dropped the lid back into place.
Trying to ease my frightened nerves by controlling my breath, I went to open it again. I'd been too skittish to get a good look at what had been inside the first time. My mouth was dry, and the food I'd recently eaten didn't feel like it would stay down for much longer.
The sight of a cute teddy bear shocked my system, especially after I'd envisioned something much worse. It looked innocent where it sat inside the box, but every nerve in my body objected to the sight.
With clammy and shaky hands, I took a picture and a video of it, aware that I could use this for evidence later—if the police would ever help me, that was.
In the bear's hands was a small white card, the front of it said, "To my dear." I felt nauseous looking at the neat and elegant handwriting.
My dear. If I hadn't known it already, I did now. When he had called me on my phone, he'd also called me his dear. It was disturbing that he called me that. The endearment was mocking the real meaning of the words.
With a tentative hand, I picked up the card and flipped it. The same handwriting was on the other side, but with a new message.
"Happy 1 year," I read out loud and then tensed. Even the sound of my own voice felt unwelcome. Happy 1 year...what the hell could that mean?
Tears welled up in my eyes, but not from sadness or fright; I felt that too, but I was also so angry. This person invaded my life like it was his right. He gave me threats to keep me away from the guys. He texted me and called me. He went into my apartment, taking away my only safe space, where I used to feel secure, where I should've been able to take a break from everything. It hurt, it fucking hurt to have someone violate my life like that.
I hurled the bear away from me and shoved the box off my bed in a bitter sort of rage. If I'd had a fireplace in the apartment, I wouldn't have hesitated to burn it all, every fiber of the bear, the box, the fucking card.
For a moment, I considered contacting the police, but what the hell would they do about this? After the policeman had minimized my situation, I'd basically been thrown out of the station the last time I was there. They'd made it sound like this was a prank rather than someone who was forcibly entering my life and messing it up while terrifying me in the process.
You could count on the police for one thing: to protect after the fact. They wouldn't do shit until after you'd been put in danger. My visit there only supported my belief that I couldn't trust them to keep me safe.
A sob escaped me, rattling my body with its force, even as angry tears slipped down my face.
I sat on the bed for I didn't know how long, contemplating my options when I didn't have any options to contemplate on. This person had already started alienating me from my best friend because I was too scared of getting Kevin hurt if I involved him. This person was taking away the people that could actually help me because I wouldn't be able to bear it if anything happened to them because of me. This person was taking away my safety, bit by bit. He made me afraid to walk outside alone, and now he'd made me afraid to be in my own home. He'd been stripping me of my security and already, after stepping into my life only two days prior, had taken everything from me.
And I had hoped I could fix this myself, what an idiot I was.
This isn't fair, I sobbed. My body curled into itself as if that would somehow make me feel safer—it didn't. I cried until the tears ran dry, and only then did I finally find the strength to get up and inspect the door.
The door to my apartment was the only possible way to get inside. I didn't bother to check the window leading to the fire escape because it could only open from the inside out. So, he couldn't have gotten in that way unless he broke the window, which I would've noticed.
My swollen eyes scanned the entire door and door frame, but I couldn't find anything indicating that someone had broken inside. That, more than anything else, scared me. Because that meant that this person either had a key or he'd lock-picked. I hated both of those possibilities. If he had a key, then...he would've had access to either mine or my landlord's—or the guys'. But if he could lock-pick, then it meant that it wouldn't help to change the locks.
I sagged against the door frame, feeling mentally and physically exhausted. I couldn't think clearly, and the thoughts I did have, were too frightening for me to look too closely at. I was already scared enough; I didn't need to add more on top of it. Not tonight, at least.
With a broken sigh, I heaved myself up from the wall, grabbed the only chair in my apartment, and wedged it underneath the door handle. I had already locked the deadbolt and door bolt into place, but I needed something extra to feel safer.
After it was done, I made sure I had a knife and my self-defense tools on the nightstand.
Even as I sat down on the bed, I knew I wouldn't be able to fall asleep. I was too tense and anxious for that.
Someone had broken into my apartment and violated my own space. No matter what the officer had said, this wasn't a prank. No one would go to these extreme lengths just to mess with someone for laughs.
Why me? I didn't get it. I was so anonymous it wasn't even funny. Besides Kevin, Callan, Mateo, and Gideon, I wasn't close with anyone, especially not close enough to get this kind of attention. I didn't have an ex-boyfriend or some ex-friend who would've been crazy enough to do something like this.
My mind couldn't comprehend any of this. It was so far out there, so unreal, that I couldn't believe it was happening to me.
The night was brutal. I was in a constant state of stress, and my body was locked in my position on the bed. I listened to any sounds from outside; the creaking of the floors in the hallway, doors opening and closing, voices...anything that would hint at me being unsafe. It didn't help that the slight breeze from when I walked home yesterday had turned into what sounded like a storm, making the walls creak as well.
With my overactive brain, the combined noises made it seem like I was in a horror movie. I kept envisioning someone outside my door waiting for me to fall asleep. I didn't sleep at all, not even a minute.
Instead of sleeping, I focused on making a list of suspects— people I needed to look into and learn about. The first few names were easy, given each had shown some interest in me, and I didn't have a close relationship with any of them.
Then I moved on to the next ones, and they hurt my soul to write up. These were people in my life who I cared for to varying degrees. I wrote the names with a hesitant hand, feeling like I betrayed each one by making them a suspect.
And then it was the last one...
11. Kevin
I stared at his name, hating myself for ever writing it down. Furious that I would even think so badly about my best friend. I fully believed that if soul friends existed, he would be mine. And yet...the thought that most crimes against a victim were done by someone they were close to had too much of a grip on my paranoia to let him get the benefit of the doubt.
Please forgive me, I prayed, even though he'd never find out I wrote him down as a suspect.
Above his name were my men. If I couldn't let Kevin go, I couldn't let them go either. It was sick, thinking they would play with my emotions like that by threatening themselves, but a tiny part of me couldn't help but wonder if this could be some sort of game to them. Even though I was ready to forgive them, the trust between us was shaky at best, and my fright made it easy to weaken the trust further.
It was a painful experience, writing a list of names of people I cared about. It twisted my heart and made my soul bleed. And it made me feel cold, and so freaking lonely.
It felt like it was me against everyone because until I found out who it was, it could be anyone on the street, from friends to strangers.
When the morning light first streamed in my window, my body felt slightly lighter, though my eyes only felt heavier. In a couple of hours, I'd been awake for twenty-four hours. At the age of twenty-two, I really didn't handle it as well as I did when I was ten.
In the early morning, I did some googling to find out which stuff I should buy. I'd settled on multiple things, and I knew it would drain my savings, but it would be worth it to feel safe.
I waited until eleven o'clock, an hour before noon, before I felt comfortable enough to leave my building. At this time, it would be bright outside, and the streets would be busy, giving me a safety blanket; no one would dare do anything to me with so many witnesses—at least, that was what I prayed on. Before I went, I armed myself with my trusted self-defense equipment. I also stuffed the bear back inside the box, so I could throw it in the garbage container on my way and put the note in the manila envelope with the pictures.
As soon as I exited my building, I took a deep breath. Being outside in broad daylight helped make me feel better about going alone. There was something about light that gave a sense of security.
It actually felt good being outside. I think I was more scared of being stuck in an apartment than being outside with people, especially after finding out that someone had gotten inside my apartment without leaving marks. Though, remembering that I had been followed at daytime, when I talked to Mateo and the next day to Callan, and when I left the police station, I didn't feel completely safe out here either.
Heading to the bus stop, I took a bus to the nearest best buy store. After I arrived at the store, I browsed, trying to find the things I'd seen on the internet. I didn't hurry as I took my time, feeling safer here than I would've at home.
An hour later, I walked out with entry alarm sensors, as well as two cameras. Afterward, I swung by another store to buy a portable door lock, which made it practically impossible for someone to break in through the door while it was attached.
As I neared my building, I grabbed my phone and called Mom. My nerves were still fried, and I couldn't go inside my apartment without having someone on the other line talking to me, like a metaphorical hand to hold.
She didn't need to know why I was calling her, but it would make me feel calmer knowing someone was aware of me in case there actually was someone in my apartment. I could rest a bit easier when I'd set up the camera and motion sensors since I would know if someone was inside or not, but right now, I was going in blind.
"Hi, Mom." I tried sounding cheery on the phone, but my mom could pick up the slight distress in my voice. How was it that parents always knew when something was wrong?
"Honey, what's going on? Are you okay?" Her warm voice filtered through the phone, settling my nerves a little.
"Yeah, I'm good," I lied. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"You tell me. You don't sound good," she asked, seemingly suspicious. She always could see right through me—or in this case, hear when I had something I was trying to hide.
"I don't know what you want me to say. I'm fine." I locked myself into the building and went to my mailbox.
"Is it about that boyfriend of yours?" Mom continued, dismissing my lie.
Once, when I slept over at Gideon's, my phone had rung while I was in the bathroom. As a joke, I'd told Gideon to answer it, knowing he wouldn't because of his aversion to talking. Turned out, the joke was on me instead, because not only had he answered it, but it also turned out it had been Mom on the phone, and not Kevin like I'd thought. When I had gotten the phone back, I'd learned Gideon had introduced himself as my boyfriend, which he wasn't. I couldn't exactly retract his lie—besides, it was better that she thought he was my boyfriend rather than my dominant; that was stuff my parents didn't have to know about.
Stuffing my mail inside my bag, I started walking up the stairs. "I...we're taking a break," I finally admitted, knowing she wouldn't give up until I gave her something. My pulse rose as I neared the third floor, but it helped to have Mom on the phone.
"Ahh, what happened?" I could literally hear her disappointment. I'd never had a boyfriend before, and while Gideon hadn't been mine, Mom thought so. She'd probably also thought that since I'd waited so long to get one, then it meant that he was special, that maybe he'd been the one for me. If she only knew...
"I just think we went too fast, you know?" I steeled myself as I unlocked the apartment door and took a hesitant step inside. "It became too serious too quickly, and I've never been in a relationship before." My eyes scanned every nook and cranny of my apartment. "I just needed to take a step back. It was too much to adjust to at once." It was all a lie, but at the same time, it felt a little true. We had been going too fast and got too serious too quickly. And when it all came crashing down around us, we hadn't taken the time to build a strong enough foundation—something that could only be built with time. I checked inside the bathroom, in my closet, everywhere. My tense shoulders relaxed when I saw that it was safe.
"I get that, Honey. It was the same with your father," she told me.
My hands stilled just as I was about to lock the door with the new portable door lock. "It was? I didn't know that."
She chuckled. "You did know that, though. We got married within a year of us meeting. That wouldn't have happened if things hadn't become serious fast." That was true, but I'd never thought of it that way. I hadn't thought about how quickly it had happened because they were clearly meant to be together. Mom and Dad were one of those disgustingly cute couples who still danced whenever their song came on the radio and always touched each other as if they couldn't stand to have any space between them.
"Sometimes, time is irrelevant. You can't put time on love or feelings in general. They happen when they happen; it's not something you can control. And I know it can be scary, but you will never know if it's worth it if you don't stick it out and see."
"You're right," I said, finally twisting the key and fitting the handle of the portable door lock into place. "But this is new for me, Mom. I need a break to see what I want more clearly. There were so many strong emotions, and I couldn't think properly while I was with him."
"I understand. You do whatever is good to you, and only you know what that is."
"I will. How's Dad doing? Is his ankle any better?" A few weeks ago, Dad had broken his ankle and had been a little stir-crazy, having to take it easy. He didn't do very well with being constantly home and unable to do much.
She sighed. "He's still healing. The doctor thinks he'll have to wear the cast for three more weeks, if not more. You know how he is. He just can't sit still."
I outright laughed at that, knowing my dad all too well. "I've never—" I stopped myself from saying I'd never met someone as restless as he was, but that wasn't true. I think my men could give him a run for his money. "Yeah, he's a restless man. What is he doing to keep busy?"
"Crosswords, movies, books, games, basically whatever can put his mind to use."
She asked me about school, and I failed to inform her (more like keeping it from her) that I hadn't been to school this past week. We continued to talk for about an hour. It felt good; I hadn't been able to speak to her much since I started the arrangement with the guys. Usually, we talked at least once a week.
When we finished our conversation, I felt more alone than I'd ever felt. I tried to keep busy, going over the notes Mateo had sent me for his class and installing the cameras and alarm sensors. Still, no matter what I did, the lonesome feeling wouldn't disappear.
These past two years, while I had lived in the city, I hadn't been the social type; I rarely went out with friends, and I hadn't dated. In a few weeks, the guys and Kevin had shown me how good it was to have someone to spend time with—to create new memories with, and to have someone by my side.
It was only when it taken away that I realized the lonesome feeling wasn't something new; I'd just lived with it for so long that I had become desensitized to it. But now, it was stronger than ever, because I was not longer used to the feeling.
I got to bed that night, feeling a little safer knowing anyone trying to break inside would have a difficult time. If someone managed to break in, the sensors would alert me of it. But while I felt safer, I was also stressed because tomorrow, I would go back to school, and it also happened that one of my classes was Mateo's.
Yay to Emma for finally taking some steps to make sure she's safe, and good on her for trying to figure out who he (is it even a he?) is.
Hope you liked today's chapter! The next will be out on the 24th at 12PM <3