Page 24 of Jealous Stalker

I try not to snort. Not to remind her for the umpteenth time that my only trigger is my fear of loneliness. That my mother’s abandonment did a real number on me I’m still grappling with all these years later.

“Ella?”

I blink at her, realise I’ve spaced out for a minute there.

What were we talking about?

Dreams. Triggers. Right.

“I don’t know,” I say softly, tugging at the hem of my sleeve. “Maybe some? Jules left for Costa Rica,” I blurt.

She scribbles form more.

“And how’s your sleep. Any nightmares or unusual dreams?”

I shrug. “Nothing… unusual that I can remember. Sometimes I don’t remember them at all. Sometimes they’re vivid.”

“Do you feel safe generally? Especially being on your now your roommate’s away?”

Her eyes are steady. Kind. A little too kind.

I force a smile. “Most of the time.”

She tilts her head. “But not always?”

My throat tightens.

He didn’t leave a note.

Was it something I said? Did I go too far?

“…Ella?”

I look up. Realize she’s still watching me. That silence has been stretching like sticky gum.

“Sorry. I’m just… tired.” I press two fingers to the crease between my eyebrows, as if that’ll explain away everything. “Long shift yesterday.”

“You’re more distracted than usual,” Dr. Greene says gently. “Something going on you want to talk about it?”

No.

Yes.

My mouth opens. Closes.

There are so many things I could say. About the notes. About the dreams that aren’t dreams.

About how I lie still in bed at night and fall asleep,hoping—knowinghe’s coming. BecauseI want him to. Desperately.

Because the most terrifying thing isn’t that I might be losing my mind. It’s that I’m not. That I’m fully aware. That Ilikeit. Hell, I even told him.

And then last night he didn’t come.

“I’m okay,” I say instead.

She watches me for a long moment with that practiced therapist stare. Measuring silences. Reading breath patterns. Waiting for the fracture lines to surface.

When I don’t add anything, she finally nods and closes her notebook.

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