Find Me

13 • Taunting

Mom doesn't bother me all day; she doesn't even call to me to make sure I'm alright. It does seem weird, considering she usually comes into the room at least five times a day, but I'm too numb to leave the room and confront her about it.

Currently, I'm lying across the length of the bed with one foot dangling over the edge of the mattress, listening to music out of the old speaker in my phone. The radio station around here doesn't play very good music, but any tunes are better than nothing. At least, that's my opinion.

Being late afternoon, there's not much to do around here. I actually wish I could attend school like any normal kid, maybe make some friends and try to forget about everything else, but of course, that seems impossible with the current predicament I'm in.

I've tried dozing off more than a few times, but every time I get to sleep, nightmares plague me. Most of them are of Laura coming to murder me for letting her die. Every time the blade is shoved into my abdomen, the look in Laura's eyes is unbearable. It's not the knife that makes me want to cry when I have the nightmare, but her expression, cold and unyielding. It's enough to make anyone go crazy.

A shiver runs down the length of my spine as I think about it, even though the beating sun glares at me through the window. With squinted eyes, I pull the curtains over the glass, blocking out the light, and anything, or anyone trying to get a glimpse of the bedroom.

Sighing, I run a hand through my tangled hair, as I always do when I'm thinking about something. Right now, I'm thinking about how long it will take for him to figure out I blocked his number and send me a text on a different phone. My guess is not long. The one thing I know about him is that he's calculated and patient when he needs to be, unless, in his mind, I do something I shouldn't. It's almost like an obsessive instinct he has, and it completely sends me over the edge with fear.

I take a seat in the rickety chair by my desk. By the looks of the frame, I'd say it's at least more than ten years old. My phone is almost glued to my hand because I'm holding it so tightly.

I need to get a life.

I tap my fingers to the beat of 'Deny' by Default, which has just come over the speakers on my phone. I remember my mom listening to this song when I was younger; as most of the older tracks I listen to. Ever since I was little, I find that lyrics to different songs seem to be stuck inside of my head until I listen to them again.

I sing the lyrics quietly; my eyes close as I concentrate on the beat. I guess you could say I'm trying to lose myself in the music, just as I used to do at home after a long day of school.

Just as the chorus hits, my cell vibrates, causing me to jump out of my seat. My eyes snap open as I try to regain my composure. It vibrates again, and I finally look back down at the caller ID. My breath catches in my throat and I immediately reject the call. If I'm correct, my stalker has just called me from a new phone.

The song resumes, but I don't sing along anymore. When my hands begin to shake from panic, I attempt to brace myself for the probability of getting a call from him again. Only, I'm not sure if I'll be able to handle not answering him this time. It's very hard to ignore someone when they won't leave you alone, especially if that person killed your best friend and made you leave your hometown.