Like the First Time (Harry Styles: no.2)

Chapter 8: Panic Attacks

***JUST A QUICK REMINDER TO VOTE/COMMENT/FAN ME PLEASE***

Chapter 8: Lydia

I'm dying to know why they haven't contacted me about my phone and the note. It's been three days and the bothering messages continue to harrass me.

I walked into my lecture hall the day after Jaz and I visited the police station to find one lonely rose sitting on my desk with a paper next to it. The flowers color was a bright orange, quite similiar to the red writing on the paper.

Some say the orange rose stands for enthusiasm while others say it means desire. I desire you, Ms. Sky.

When I found the note, I immediately took Jaz aside and showed it to her. I was forced to stiffle a panic attack, something I have been experiencing more frequently than I'd like to let people know. I stuffed the note into my jacket pocket and tossed the rose into one of the desk drawers, out of sight but not out of mind.

Today, five days after I recieved the first terrifying gesture from the stalker, I got a note on my apartment's fireescape. I managed not to wake up my neighbors while I went through a long, excrutiatingly painful panic attack.

This person, they know where I live. That, by it self, is the most scary thing of all. Looking back at the note now, I can't peel my eyes off the haunting words.

Ms. Sky, do I frighten you with my undeniably pure love? I could fix that. Would you like to meet somewhere, my sweet?

My cellphone, currently pressed against my year, is still ringing. Jaz has been busy for the past few hours with studying for an exam. But, she said that she would have her phone on just for me. In case anything else happened with the case.

After a few minutes of trying to reach her, I hang up and dial for Chris, something I never really do. He doesn't pick up either.....the first.....the second.........and even the third time.

I toss my phone onto the couch, the device landing by the newest note. I run my fingers up my throat, across my face and through my tangled hair. This is getting worse.

It's as if I can feel them creeping into my mind, setting fire to the calmest of parts I hold.

Ryan.

"Oh god," I mutter. "He doesn't even know..."

Should I bother him?

Will he do something?

Grasping my phone, I unlock it and search for his number. As soon as I dial it, I immediatly go to voicemail. He must have shut it off for an interview or movie shotting.

"Hey," Ryan's cool voice carries from the speaker. "I'm not here right now, but please leave your name and number, and I'll get back to you as soon as I can."

Beep.

Clearing my throat, I begin, "Hey, Ry. It's me...Lydia. Listen, I'm in huge trouble. Someone...some person is stalking me. And, and they know where I work, and what my car is and where I live. Oh god, Ryan. I'm scared. I'm more scared than the first time I didn't listen to my mom. I'm more scared than when I had to leave all of you behind in LA. Shit, Ryan...I need help. Please call me back. I'm scared."

I knew I had started crying as soon as I said his nickname. I ccould feel the tears running down my face as if it were burning lava.
I throw my phone down onto the couch again and get up. I don't have any classes today. I don't have to leave my apartment.

But, I need to leave.

This person knows everything about me, it seems. They know what my damn career is for crying out loud. If they're watching me then they know that I saw the note caught in the edge of my window.