Page 38 of Phobia
I turned in a slow circle, searching for the silvery glow that usually came with ghosts.
When my gaze settled on a figure across the street, standing behind a low stone wall, I flinched.
It washim.
The man who’d tried to murder me.
He was in the darkness between two of the wrought-iron lampposts, in the sliver of space where the pale yellow light didn’t touch. His hateful gaze bore into mine, his lips twisted into a snarl.
It was the same look he had the night he tried to kill me, when his massive hands wrapped around my throat and squeezed until the world went black.
The feeling of being strangled all over again came rushing back.
My heart hammered against my ribs.
My vision blurred.
I couldn’t breathe.
I forced myself to run—bypassing the sidewalk that would take me home and sprinting down the street toward Greek Row.
Larkin’s massive frat house came into view and I ran faster, trying to outrun the panic. Outrun the stranger, whose stinking breath was hot on my neck, his outstretched hands just inches from grabbing me.
Sprinting up the porch stairs, I threw myself through the front door and slid to a halt in the foyer as thumping music and laughter assaulted me from every side.
There were people everywhere.
Fuck! They were having a party.
Raking my hands through my hair, I turned to go but a big hand clamped my shoulder. My yelp was mostly covered by the blaring music as I was spun around forcefully.
“Jame! My boy! You’re here!” Larkin squeezed me in a bear hug but when I didn’t return his enthusiastic greeting he sobered quickly. “What happened? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’m sorry. I didn’t know you guys were having a party.” I felt like the biggest fucking idiot in the world. There was no way I could tell Larkin about what happened, especially not when he was already buzzing. He’d want to do something stupid, like go search the area for the guy—or call the cops, which is something I didn’t feel like explaining to them.Why yes, officer, the man who tried to kill me was just down the road. Yes, I’m sure. Mostly. Maybe. Well, it could have been a PTSD-driven hallucination. Please don’t take me to the hospital.
Larkin stuck out his plush lower lip. “Come on. Talk to me! What’s going on?”
“Come on, man! Hurry your ass up!” One of his roommates, Cody, yelled from the living room, apparently mad that Larkin wasn’t returning to their game fast enough.
“Hold your fucking horses!” Larkin snapped, turning back to me with a gentler expression. “Let’s go to my room.”
We made our way through the sea of bodies, up the stairs, to Larkin’s room. Thankfully he had the foresight to lock it, which meant we wouldn’t be interrupting anything.
“So what’s up?” Larkin asked, ushering me inside and closing the door behind us.
Since he wasn’t going to let it go and I couldn’t come up with anything else believable at the moment, I opted for the truth. “He’s here. I saw him.” I didn’t need to elaborate beyond that. He knew exactly who I was talking about. It was the same thing every year, ever since we were thirteen. I’d swear up and down I saw “him” out of the corner of my eye or on the street, but this time? I know for a goddamn fact I was staring at the man who’d tried to strangle me to death.
“That’s impossible,” Larkin replied, worry melting off his face with a relieved smile.
“No, I swear! I saw him on campus. Just now! Just… watching me.”
“Jame, you know how you get this time of year.”
“This isn’t anxiety or fucking PTSD,” I snapped, taking a step closer, my jaw flexing. “I know what I fucking saw, Larkin! And it was him! Right in front of me! I don’t know how, but somehow he found me!”
Someone crashed through the door and I yelped. Two drunk girls and a Neanderthal from one of the other frats on campus.
“Sorry,” one of the girls slurred. “Didn’t know it was occupied.”
