Page 27 of Jealous Stalker

Come back.

Please x

I take my time to compose my response, running my fingers over the bandage on my inner left arm. It stings but barely. The pain was worth it. Almost as much as the agony of standing next to her in the elevator.

I woke up feeling my Ella needed me. And after hacking Dr Greene’s notes, reading about her session confessing to her loneliness, I’d booked it to the VA centre, even though I didn’t have an appointment today.

Getting into the elevator with her was stupid and risk, but after watching her all afternoon trying to keep it together, forcing smiles for people who didn’t deserve it, it’ll killed me to be so far away from her. I’d needed the hit of her closeness, her goodness. Her warmth.

Plus, I’d needed to make sure she got to her car okay.

But all of that is nothing compared to the way my insides shred then stitch back together after reading this note. I write carefully, keeping the storm raging inside at bay.

Me:

I couldn’t risk being too much.

But you make it impossible not to want everything.

You don’t know what it does to me…what it did to me.

Sleeping by your side.

I place it on the pillow but I don’t get into bed with her tonight. I stand in the shadows and watch my princess sleep.

Ella:

I think about you. A lot.

When I shower. When I’m at work. When I read my favourite books.

When I lie in bed and pretend I’m not waiting.

I’m scared. But not of you.

I’m scared of how much I want you to come back.

I sleep deeper when you’re here.

I dream sweeter.

I think I’ve been waiting for you longer than I knew.

Come back tonight.

This note isn’t on her pillow, it’s tucked into the corner of the blanket she’s turned down. For me. I hold it close to my chest in the corner of the room, wondering where that rumbling sound is coming from.

It takes ten seconds to realise it’s coming from me. That I’m humming Ella Mackie’s favourite song.

I leave her room before she wakes, but I don’t leave her apartment. I hide in the closet she rarely uses. Until I hear the sound of her shower.

Still, I wait.

Blood pumping. Heart racing. Cock harder than it’s ever been.

Then when instinct prods me, I leave my hiding place. Return to her bedroom. Cross to her tiny bathroom. She’s left the door ajar. But the curtain is drawn and steam is building in the room.

Through it, I reach out a hand, a finger. Draw it slowly across her mirror.

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