Page 24 of Fetch

I blow out a deep breath and click on the second to last message.

I have a present for you, pretty girl. Something to help loosen you up.

Fucking hell. My palms sweat. Last message.

Check your front door.

I freeze. A wave of nausea starts in the pit of my stomach and inches up my throat, threatening my equilibrium. I pinch my eyes shut and count to ten.Surely he’s just fucking with me, right?

I push myself up from the couch and stagger to my door. With each step, the trembles in my body increase. I look out the peephole first to double-check that there’s not a masked man standing on my porch. My fingers shake as I unlatch the chain, then the deadbolt, and finally turn the bottom lock, then the knob.

My eyes dart to the street, glancing around to see if I can spot anyone unusual. But my neighborhood is quiet as it always is on Sunday mornings. I look down to see a small pink heart-shaped box with a bow on top. I swear to god, this better not be someone’s finger. But that would be absurd. I really need to stop watching true crime shows by myself.

I snatch the box, dash back inside, and relatch all the locks. I pant against the door, holding the box out in front of me like it’s a bomb. Oh shit. What if it is a fucking bomb? He said he wanted to loosen me up. Maybe he meant because my body parts would be splattered all over my apartment. Fuck.Breathe, Roxy. Just breathe.

And yet I still hold it an arm’s length away from me as I walk to the kitchen table and set it down. I take another deep breath and lift the lid off. Oh god. Another wave of nausea hits me. It’s a fucking anal plug.And a tube of lubricant.

There’s also a note that reads:Get nice and wet before you put this in, pretty girl. And don’t take it out. I’ll remove it myself next time I see you.

My knees wobble as I read his words a few more times. My brain isn’t processing. This mandoesknow where I fucking live. He was right outside while I slept. Fuck. I have a fucking stalker. When I begged the universe to send me someone who’s obsessed with me, I didn’t mean fucking literally.

A rush of adrenaline shoots through my veins as I dash over to the couch and pick up my controller. I click on his profile and hover the cursor over the block button. My breaths are coming in quick short bursts. My heart is racing. If I do this, it could anger him. I don’t know what he’s capable of, but I feel in my gut that he’s dangerous.

And yet he’s the one I dream about. The first person I think about when I wake up and the last person before I go to sleep. I picture his mask when I’m fucking my vibrator. I hear his voice in my head every time I cum.

I should block him and go to the police. But I don’t trustthemeither. They didn’t believe me back then. Instead, they threw me into juvie until I was eighteen. Attempted murder without probable cause. Fucking bullshit. It was self-defense. My momma knew it. That monster of a husband of hers knew it when I drove the knife into his gut. But it didn’t matter. He was the police chief’s son. And I was the daughter of an incarcerated drug dealer.

I spent two years in there. Two years because I had the audacity to try and kill the man who abused me every day. Those records are supposed to be sealed. But Jack, or whatever the fuck his name is, knows about it. That intrigues me more than it scares me.

I thought I’d left my past behind. I moved here to Lavender Heights to go to school. To start fresh. It was a miracle I got that dance scholarship. Only to lose it ten months later after the fall. I’ve been withdrawn and apathetic ever since. But it’s been three years. And Jack has awakened something in me that I thought had died. He’s lit my fire again.

A chill snakes up my spine. I swallow down the lump in my throat as I dig deep for my courage. I pick up the controller and reply to his last message.

Don’t come near my house again. Or I’ll stab you like I did him.

I hit send, wait for him to read it, and then block his profile. Let’s see what happens when Jack actually comes tumbling down.

Ichuckle when I read her reply. I take it she found the box I left her. I start to respond when the chat disappears. My stomach knots. I click on my friends list and scroll. I can’t find her. I type her gamertag into the search bar. No results. No JillChick22. Fuck. She fucking blocked me.

Oh, Roxy. I think it’s time you meet the real me.

The sky is bright orange when I pull up to Vinyl Delights. It casts a glow that makes the ground look like it’s on fire. I park my bike in front and peer through the window. Roxy laughs with Juniper behind the counter. She looks stunning when she smiles. Her whole face lights up like tonight’s sunset.

I remove my helmet and walk in, avoiding eye contact as I head straight toward the classic grunge section. Within minutes Juniper calls out, “Holler if you need anything.”

I pause my browsing and turn my head to the side, giving them my profile. “I’ll let you know.”

They continue chatting, but I can feel both of their eyes on me. They’re curious. I look familiar. I may even sound familiar. She’ll wonder where she’s heard my voice before. And when I turn around to face them, she’ll recognize me from TV. Her brain will convince her that’s how she knows my voice.

I smirk with my back turned as I peruse the vinyl stacks. When I finally find the one I’m looking for, I put it under my arm and stalk toward the counter. Their eyes widen as I approach. Roxy licks her lips, drinking in the sight of me. All six foot three inches of me. In my leather jacket, faded band tee, and ripped jeans, I’m very aware of the effect I have on women. I’m almost angry that she’s checking me out since she doesn’t even know yet that Punk and Jack are one and the same. Should I be jealous of myself?

When I place Nirvana’sIn Uteroalbum on the counter, their mouths drop open. Five. Four. Three. Two. O—.

“Oh my god. You’re Punk Wilder,” Juniper blurts out with zero decorum.

I run a hand through my dirty-blond hair, fingering the waves back off my forehead. I glance back and forth between them in an attempt to look nervous about being spotted. “Um… yeah. You know me?”

She snort laughs. “Everyoneknows you, dude.”

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