Page 35 of Born into Madness
“You’re going to fall in love with a psycho, and I won’t even be able to rescue you from him because you’ll want to stay.” She turns her head on the pillow to face me. “Promise you won’t just disappear and run off with your tattooed bad boy.”
I open my eyes and turn so we’re staring at one another across the pillow, just like we used to do when we were kids and having a sleepover. “I would never do that,” I tell her.
“Not even if he sets your panties on fire?”
I grin and hold up my pinkie. “Not even then. I’d at the very least send you a postcard from whatever tropical island he insists on taking me to.”
She hooks her pinkie around mine. “That’s not funny. Maybe he has a hot, tattooed friend who isn’t quite as unhinged as he is. You might be into that level of crazy, but I’m not.”
“Got it,” I tell her. “If my masked man ever shows up again, I’ll ask if he has a mid-level unhinged friend for my bestie.”
“Mid?” she asks with a grin. “More like entry level.”
I wiggle our pinkies. “Deal.” When she smiles back, I say, “No more men talk. We still have half a pizza and several episodes to get caught up on.”
Her hand goes to her flat stomach. “I’m so stuffed.”
“Don’t be a quitter, Sav.”
“You’re right. Never say die. Give me a minute and then I’ll be good for a few more slices.”
Savanna manages to take my mind off everything else, just like she’s been doing since we were kids, and despite how off kilter I’ve been feeling lately, I still have a great time with her and leave the next day feeling way better than I did the day before. I’m determined to keep up the good mood, and it does last, for a while at least. I stay upbeat and focused while I catch up on classwork and do my volunteer shift at the animal shelter and even when I get in my work hours at the vet clinic.
I’m convinced I can make it last, that I’ll stop looking over my shoulder, desperate for a glimpse of the man who refuses to leave my head or the cute Doberman I’ve already gotten attached to.
Monday leaves me exhausted, Tuesday depresses the hell out of me because it’s been days since I’ve felt his presence, and Wednesday is a challenge to even drag myself out of bed. I don’t understand why I’m so hung up on someone whose face I haven’t even seen. When I try to rationalize it, all I can come up with is that it was a traumatic meeting and I feel like it was left unresolved. Too many questions haunt my thoughts, too manythings I don’t have the answers to, and underneath it all is the fact that I will never know who the hell he was.
It’s enough to drive anyone crazy, and by the time I fall into bed on Wednesday night, I’m more than a little bit frustrated and irritable. I don’t know how to get past this, and I’m tempted to start my own search for him, but I don’t even know where to begin. Even trying to recognize his body on campus is impossible, not to mention the enormous city we’re surrounded by. It’s useless. He isn’t going to be found unless he wants to be, and it’s painfully obvious at this point that he doesn’t want to be found, at least not by me.
I toss and turn for hours before finally falling asleep, and on Thursday I wake to find a note on my desk. As soon as I see the masculine penmanship, my heart starts racing. He was here last night. He broke in while I was sleeping and did what? Stood around watching me sleep and then wrote me a note?
It’s impossible to not be unsettled by it, and I immediately regret my earlier, very misplaced interest in this guy. I’m playing with a danger that I have no right to play with. I’m so far out of my depth I can’t even see the shore.
With shaky fingers, I grab the note and start to read.
My little Cyn,
Your Russian teacher is an ass, and I don’t like the way he looks at you. Be careful with him. You’re a trusting person, Cyn, but many people are unworthy of that trust. Don’t let your guard down with him.
I find myself thinking about you, and I’m not sure what to do about that. You occupy my mind in a way that I’m not used to. I wonder if you’ve been thinking about me.I think maybe you have been. I’ve noticed you watching the crowds a lot on campus. Is it me you’re looking for? Have you spotted me yet? Did you enjoy the movie the other night? Did you feel me reach out and touch you?
The truth is I’ve been watching you very closely, and last night isn’t the first time I’ve broken in to watch you sleep. Does that scare you, my little Cyn?
You look very sweet while you sleep, so trusting and vulnerable. I can’t seem to take my eyes off you.
Do me a favor, my little Cyn, wear the green dress in your closet today. I want to see you in it. I want to see your beautiful red hair against it.
I’ll see you soon.
—Your very confused stalker
P.S. Chort misses you.
I sink into my chair, too stunned to do anything besides read it again, and when that’s not enough I do it a third time before setting it aside. It doesn’t matter how many times I read it, it’ll never make sense to me.
He’s been watching me this whole time? And he snuck into my dorm to watch me sleep? Jesus, I knew that was him touching me at the movie theater!
My eyes dart to my roommate’s side of the room. She was here last night. How the fuck did we both sleep through that? My mind immediately goes straight to the tiny little shorts and tank tops she likes to sleep in, and I can’t help but wonder ifhe watched her too. Then I shake my head at how fucked up this all is. I’m jealous now? I’m actually jealous that the crazy guy might’ve stared at Brittney while she slept and not just me? What the hell is wrong with me?
