Page 38 of Fixation
This place is someone else’s home.
Air refuses to go into my lungs. They’re flat. My chest is tight.
The world closes in around me, fast.
I’ve been kidnapped.
By my stalker.
It has to be him. He’s not as safe as I thought.
He finally got his hands on me.
My fingers twitch. My body shakes with disbelief.
When I talked to him earlier—at home, when I thought I was hallucinating—I could sense his presence.
It’s clear that it wasn’t just a dream my brain cooked up. What I’d been suspecting for weeks is true.
I just didn’t know it was my neighbor.
It all makes sense now.
That weird feeling that’s been crawling up my spine ever since I saw his movers. Their truck sat idling on the curb two months ago, rumbling like it was holding something back.
I caught a glimpse of them as the last one trotted down the stairs and joined the others before they drove off.
But I haven’t actually seen my neighbor.
I’m going to see him now.
The person who gave me a false sense of security. The person I called when I was sick, hallucinating at home.
Fuck. I’m so stupid.
A scream rises in my throat, and at the last minute, I hold it there.
I have to be quiet.
I don’t want him here. I need to get away.
Even if he’s not sedating me. Even if he’s taking care of me while I’m sick.
I didn’t ask for this.
This prison. In a stranger’s home. A person who’s been stalking me. I’m so sure that I’ve been taken against my will that I could throw up.
I won’t.
I won’t give up. I won’t.
Come on, feet, move. Time to leave this hellhole.
One pull, and I realize this is going to be more complicated than I thought.
Way more.
Earlier, when I balled my hands into fists, I did so without moving my arms or legs. If I had, I would’ve realized this one, blood-curdling truth. I’m bound to the rails of this hospital bed.
