Page 4 of She Belongs to Me

I found myself terrified to touch it, but I did. At least I made it outside before opening the flap.

At that moment, the entire world stopped moving.

The words were written in red, done in bold lettering and without mistake.

We Know Who You Are. There is nowhere to hide, little girl.

“Sherry. Pick up the phone.” I’d called her four times. No answer. It hadn’t even gone to voicemail. I was sick inside. To think my not going to the police had maybe gotten her killed was the worst thing in the world. I had to know. I had to see for myself. It was perhaps the dumbest move I’d ever made, but I needed to know if she’d been caught inside the condo.

Everything I owned was inside the small space. I didn’t want some thugs to derail my entire life.

You’re not thinking clearly. What you’re thinking is dangerous.

Yes, it was. But hiding for the rest of my life wasn’t an option.

Sherry was usually finished with classes at least an hour before me. This was her last day too. I made certain I wasn’t followed, changing routes three times. If anyone was, I couldn’t see them.

I parked in the small parking lot in the back of our condominium unit, fearful when crawling out. I’d done my best to keep my vehicle under a clump of trees. I’d watched too many cop shows. The back door was accessible and clear from where I parked if I craned my neck while looking out the windshield. I waited for five minutes before climbing out. There was no one waiting.

Or so I prayed.

Once inside, I leaned against the door, gasping for air. This was nuts. In and out. Period.

I sprinted up the stairs, my breathing labored the entire time. I kept thinking how dumb this was, but the push to know was stronger than my common sense at this point.

There was no outward appearance the door had been tampered with. I easily slipped my key inside, slowly turning the handle. But the moment I walked in, my world nearly faded to black.

The entire place had been tossed. Everything had been smashed or turned over.

Get out. Just leave.

But I couldn’t.

I was frozen at first, listening for any sounds. There were no voices, no snickering. And no boogeyman jumping out from behind the couch. I was sick inside, trying to keep my diet soda from launching onto the floor.

Go. Go. Go.

The kitchen was close and I moved in silently, grabbing a butcher knife. With it firmly placed in my hand and my mind chastising me every step of the way, I headed through the condo. There was no one inside waiting and no dead bodies.

But there was a message written on my wall in what appeared to be blood. My mouth dropped open, my heart nearly stopping. This was a freaking horror movie.

We will find you.

I went into survivor mode and within seconds, had a duffle bag packed and was out the door, running down the stairs to the back entrance. I was running on adrenaline and what most would consider stupidity at this point. I shoved the knife I’d grabbed inside the outer pocket, wishing I had a permit to carry a gun.

I zoomed off, almost hitting another car, still gasping every few seconds. No one was following me.

Without hesitation, I pulled out my phone, contacting Sherry again. “Sherry.” When she answered, I almost wrecked the car.

“What is it?”

“Do not go back to the condo. Go stay with your mother.”

“Why?” she asked, another wave of fear creeping into her.

“They found me. The condo is trashed. Just trust me. Okay? Please tell me you will.”

Her voice was shaking as she answered, “Okay. Go to the police. You can’t keep running from this. You know that.”