Rolling over, I forced my eyelids open. The early morning light cast intricate patterns across my blanket. My alarm clock read six a.m. Why the hell was I awake at this hour? I sank back onto the pillow, my eyes closing on their own accord. I could use at least five more hours of sleep.
The jarring sound of the doorbell pierced through my drowsy haze. My eyes snapped open. Who in the world rang the doorbell at six in the morning—I checked my phone—without so much as calling me first?
I got to my feet and suppressed a groan, my sore muscles protesting with the slightest movement. I opened the door and shuffled into the dimly lit living room when the doorbell rang again. Jeez. Impatient much?
I peered through the peephole and suddenly, I was wide awake. There was nothing to see. As if somebody had covered it with tape.
The doorbell chimed again.
I jumped back, my hands on my mouth, stifling a yelp. My pulse raced. Who would ring my doorbell at six in the morning?
I tip-toed back to my room and snatched my phone. As if Suz had read my mind, my phone buzzed, her name flashing across the screen.
"Hey," I said breathlessly. "I was just about to—"
"Tay," Suz sobbed.
I straightened. "What? What happened?"
I was halfway back to the front door when her next words made me stop in my tracks. "I'm on my way to the airport," she managed to press out. "My mom had an accident. I just got the news. I—they said she stabilized but..."
I dashed back into my bedroom. "Shit. I can pack a bag and be there in—"
"No. No," she quickly cut me off. "Nick is with me. I just wanted to let you know. My aunt and uncle are already there, and my cousin is going to pick me up. I'm just... It just came out of nowhere you know?"
"It's going to be fine." I gripped my phone more tightly. "Focus on getting there first, okay? And let me know as soon as you land."
"Okay..." I heard Nick's voice in the background. Then the call was silent before his voice filled my ear. "Tay?"
"Ah. Yes?"
"I'm gonna keep you updated about the situation. It doesn't sound like she's in critical condition, but we will know when we get there. Don't worry about Suz, I got her. Suz just wanted to let you know."
"Thanks, Nick," I said and sank onto the edge of my bed.
"She'll call you later."
He hung up. I blinked a few times, feeling numb. The apartment was quiet, so I rechecked the peephole. The cover was gone. I could see Sofia's door on the other side of the hall. There was nobody else. I held my breath and waited at least five minutes. When nothing happened, I unlocked the door but kept the security chain in place. Another minute passed. I opened the door fully and peered into the hallway.
Of course.
My fingers hurt from clenching around the handle. A small package waited atop my doormat.
After locking the door, I placed the box on my kitchen table. My plans had turned to dust and suddenly I was at a loss, feeling overwhelmed, and alone.
A strange, pungent smell wafted up my nose. Did I have any rotting groceries? I grimaced and checked around the kitchen. Nothing. Then my eyes fell on the package. I inched closer, sniffed, and instantly backed away. It seemed to be the origin of the strange smell.
My head sank into my palms, and I slumped to the ground. Some emotion clawed at the back of my throat, but I swallowed it down.
Talking to Suz was out of the question. I knew who I wanted to talk to. My fingers hovered over Killian's contact. Yet, I couldn't press it. Why was it so hard to ask for his help?
Actually, I knew why. In a way, asking for help was a personal failure. It meant being vulnerable in a way I just couldn't. Like admitting that I couldn't deal with something. Knowing he was different didn't help lessen this irrational fear that I would become a burden. And then he wouldn't want to deal with me anymore. Just like all the others.
My fingers scratched across my scalp in quick hard strides until I realized what I was doing and forcefully pulled down my hand. My nails came away bloody. Fuck. I hadn't realized how much they'd grown again. I jumped to my feet, marched into the bathroom, and filed my nails right down to the flesh.
How should I handle this? I dropped my hands. Maybe that was a question I should ask someone with more expertise. After thinking for a while, I called the police.
Not even an hour later, two officers stood in my apartment. The female officer looked around a notepad in her hand. The male officer was studying the package and the box of letters that I had pulled out. Now, I was glad that I hadn't thrown them away.
"How long did you say this has been going on?" the woman, Officer Williams, asked.
I shifted my weight. "It's been going on for about a month now."
"Has there been anything else unusual lately? Any strange men around the apartment?"
I was instantly reminded of the guy who stalked me when I was for a run. "Just once," I said and proceeded to tell them about the man that had followed me. "But it could have been a coincidence, right?"
"It could be, yeah," Officer Williams said in a comforting tone.
The man, Officer Smith, held up his phone to take a picture of my destroyed student ID. "And when did you lose this?"
"Around Halloween."
"Do you know where?" he asked.
I hesitated. Their gaze sharpened and narrowed on me.
"Miss West," Officer Smith said sternly. "You have to be honest if you want to take this seriously. Because it does sound very serious."
I gulped. "Well, we sort of went to the abandoned asylum. Down in Richerston. They did a dare there..."
Both of them exchanged shocked looks.
"What?" I asked.
"The Richerston Asylum?" he echoed. "Did you by any chance see anyone there?"
My hands went cold. "Um... actually I—I did the challenge alone and I ran into a man..." I summarized the happenings of that night.
They exchanged meaningful glances and nodded gravely.
"Alright. We will take these to run fingerprints over them," the male officer said. "Sadly, that's the only thing we can do for now. It's important that you keep collecting if any more letters come in. And give us a call if anything suspicious happens again."
"But...you don't think this might just be a prank?" I asked hopefully.
"I'm sorry to say that this doesn't look like a prank anymore," Officer Williams answered in a solemn tone.
"Do you mind if I take a look?" Officer Smith asked and pointed at the package. "You said the others had glass in them and you got a few more which you just threw away, right?"
"Yeah, but this one stinks."
His nose scrunched. The smell was starting to intensify. "Maybe we should open this at the station," he said with a look at his colleague.
"I agree," Officer Williams said, frowning before she turned to me. "It's probably best if you could come with us to the station for an official statement anyways."
"Okay."
I quickly ran into my room. My eyes fell onto the big PSU sweatshirt lying neatly folded on a chair.
On a whim, I grabbed it and put it on, immediately feeling a bit better. I could allow myself this small comfort, right?
Half an hour later, I sat on an old plastic chair waiting to be called up. I huddled into the soft fabric of Killian's sweatshirt. I hadn't found a good timing to return it to him after our vacation. Okay, I also hadn't tried very hard.
A tall, middle-aged man in civilian clothing with dark hair and an olive tinge to his skin marched into the foyer. With his sharp, penetrating gaze and straight, upright posture, the man epitomized the image of a military veteran.
His eyes swept across the room like a searchlight until they fell on me. My breath caught. They were hazel just like Killian's.
"Taylor West?" he asked.
"Yeah." I stood up, chiding myself. I had to stop thinking about him all the time. This was getting ridiculous.
"My name is Detective Johnson. If you would come with me." He led me into one of those interrogation rooms you'd see on TV and gestured for me to sit. "I know you talked to my colleagues, but I need you to start at the beginning."
Again, I re-countered the events—even from Halloween—until I got to the part where I was running through the park.
"Which street was that? Where your friends lived?" Detective Johnson asked.
His hand stilled when I told him the address. "Matterson Street 12?" he repeated and lifted his eyes from the sleek, black notebook in front of him.
"Yeah," I replied, suddenly nervous for no reason.
His mouth twitched. "Alright, and you are sure your friends aren't involved in this?"
"No. No, definitely not."
"And what's the name of the man who drove you home that night?"
My stomach fluttered. "K-Killian Prescott."
Some sort of emotion passed through the Detective's eyes, but it was gone before I could name it. "And what is your relationship exactly?"
My face grew hot under his scrutinizing gaze which seemed to be able to see right through me. "Well...we're friends."
"I see," he said after a pause.
I let out a breath. "Is that all?"
"For now, Miss West, I want you to be very careful," Detective Johnson said, leaning forward with a serious expression. "I'm going to talk to your landlord about installing some security cameras, but that might take a while. In the meantime, I want you to stay close to your friends and avoid being alone. I'll arrange for a patrol car to check your neighborhood more often."
I nodded in understanding. "Um, did you check the package? The last one I got, I mean?"
He hesitated briefly before answering. "Yes, we did."
"And?" I pressed.
His gaze was firm and his tone grave as he replied, "Miss West, it's important that you take this situation seriously. Whoever is sending you these threats is not playing around. This is not a prank. Do you understand?"
My arms trembled and I pulled Killian's sweatshirt tighter around me. "Yes."
Detective Johnson seemed to detect the movement and his eyes lingered on the way-too-big clothes. "Your friend's, I assume?"
I sat up straight. "Yeah. Why?"
He pointed at the sleeve. "I would have expected a T in your case."
I followed his gaze. A green K was embroidered on the right sleeve. The color matched the logo so well, I hadn't noticed it at all. What had Killian said? He and Cody always messed up their clothes? No wonder he had looked so amused.
The detective smiled at me, and the corners of his eyes wrinkled. He pulled out a card. "Here's my private number. If anything comes up, anything at all, don't hesitate to call me. Officer Williams will drive you home now, but remember, no late-night adventures on your own."
I nodded and got up. It wasn't until I was back at my apartment that I realized he hadn't answered my question.
What had been in that package?