Just walk across the street, just walk across the street.
I put my head down and walk briskly without looking up. I can’t talk to him. If I do, I know I will believe anything he tells me, right now. I want to run into his arms, I want to run away with him and never come back. This has to be a dreadful mistake. He is dangerous, Emerson, I remind myself. But even as I reprimand myself, I know in my heart of hearts that he would never hurt me. I can’t believe he is capable of ever hurting anyone else, either. He’s too gentle, too loving to ever be capable of the things that my brain is telling me that he’s been doing. I get to the other side of the road and start to walk up the street toward work.
“Emerson,” he calls from behind me.
I stop with my back to him, my eyes planted firmly on the ground as my broken heart hammers in my chest.
“I miss you,” he says softly.
I pause, still with my back to him. I miss you, too.
“Trust yourself,” he murmurs.
I frown. What does that mean?
He doesn’t say anything else.
I wait for another twenty seconds as I search my brain for a comeback. The street is bustling with people, and yet I feel like we are the only two people on Earth. Say something else, Alastar. Explain to me why those things were at your house. I need you to tell me, damn you. I stand with my back to him, and he stands directly behind me. I can feel him so close, yet so far away. I’m too weak to deal with this. I can’t cope. I swallow the lump in my throat, put my head down, and keep walking to work.
* * *
Brielle’s eyes widen in horror. “Are you serious?”
We are at lunch and I am filling her in on the week’s strange turn of events.
I shake my head as I rearrange my cutlery. It’s hard for me to even look her in the eye. “You promised not to say anything,” I say in monotone, lifeless voice.
Brielle grabs my hand over the table. “When did this happen?” she whispers.
“Wednesday.”
“Emerson.” She frowns in horror. “It’s Monday. Why didn’t you call me?”
I scratch my head and blow out a deep shameful breath. “I don’t know.” My eyes meet hers. “I’ve been trying to get myself together enough to tell you. I am back at my apartment. I’m fine.”
She chews her thumbnail as she thinks. “Are you sure it was the stolen artwork?”
I nod once. “It’s not the artwork that concerned me.”
She screws up her face. “What the hell concerned you then?”
I bite my bottom lip. I don’t even want to say this out loud. I swallow the feeling of sand in my throat. “He had photographs pinned on the wall of tombstones with the name Emmaline on them.”
Her eyes widen in total shock.
I nod sadly.
“Fuck off,” she whispers.
I shake my head.
“That’s it. We are going to the police. This guy is a fucking weirdo.”
“You promised not to say anything,” I whisper.
“That was before I knew he was a fucking serial killer,” she snaps.
“Shh.” I look around the restaurant to see if anyone heard her. “Keep your voice down.”
“No. I will not keep my voice down. This man is dangerous, Em. He has had you under his spell since day one.”
My eyes tear up. It’s true. He has.
“You are a fucking idiot when it comes to him.”
My face screws up in tears of despair.
Pity fills her face. “I’m sorry.” She squeezes my hand over the table. “I didn’t mean to say that. I’m sorry, baby.”
The tears run down my face and I wipe them away angrily.
“I just…” She hesitates. “I’m just worried about you, Em. We need to go to the police tonight. I will come with you.”
“I know. I am calling them today anonymously.” I sigh.
“Why didn’t you call me?”
I shrug.
“I know why you didn’t call me,” she replies.
My hurt eyes hold hers.
“The same reason I wouldn’t call you every time I found out my ex had slept with another girl. You feel ashamed that someone you love could be like this, could treat you like this.”
My heart drops. I knew she didn’t tell me a lot back then, but I never dreamt that the shoe would ever be on the other foot.
She holds my hand in both of hers. “We will get though this. Come and stay with me for a while.”
“What about Mr. Masters?”
“He won’t be a problem.”
“Why is that?”
“Let’s just say that Mr. Masters is behaving this week.” She smirks sneakily.
My eyes widen. “You slept with him?”
“No.”
I roll my eyes.
“But we did have a talk.”
“About what?” I ask.
“About his attraction to me. He finally admitted it.”
I smile my first true smile in four days. “I’m okay, honestly. I will stay at my apartment.”
Her stare holds mine. “I know you are going to be okay, Emerson. You are a tough chick and this is just a speed bump in life.”
I smile gratefully. I needed to hear that, because in all honesty, I have never felt so weak.
“You know… men are all assholes,” she mutters as she picks up her drink and sips it.