Page 25 of Devil's Thirst
Heart pounding against the inside of my chest, I swiftly sit up with the covers pulled tightly against me. My gaze instantly locks on the dense shadow that doesn’t belong. He’s leaning against the wall by my bedroom door, unmoving.
He watches me, and I watch him.
I don’t scream or panic like I know I should. I should be scavenging for a weapon or doingsomething. Anything besides serving myself up on a platter. But my body and mind are locked down in shock. The feeling is familiar, and I hate it.
Fight or flight—at least those show a person is trying to avoid harm.
Then there’s the freeze instinct.
It’s a totally normal reaction, though rarely talked about. And I think I know why. Because it feels pathetic. My body may think it’s protecting me, but it’s not. Freezing feels like the most worthless response possible. I’m not a deer hiding in a grassy fucking meadow, and I wish to God my brain would get that memo.
I can’t force myself to move, so I scour the shadows for his face as though identifying my tormentor will somehow make him disappear.
It’s no use, of course. He’s as much a mystery now as before.
My lips part as though I might actually gain the wherewithal to do something. The man doesn’t give me the chance. He peels himself away from the wall and slips soundlessly from the room. Proving myself as worthless as ever, I sit like a fucking bump on a log and listen to the quiet click of the front door closing.
What thehellis wrong with me?
A man was here in my bedroom while I wassleeping, and I didnothing.
My hands curl into furious fists. What little nails I have dig into my palms before I repeatedly pummel the mattress beneath me, tears blurring my vision.
What’s it going to take for you to learn to defend yourself?
If I’m going to be so goddamn worthless, maybe I deserve what happens to me.
I have to clamp my hand over my mouth when a wave of nausea sends my stomach heaving.
I can’t do this anymore. I can’t.
My entire body begins to shake as I reach for my phone.
I have to report this. I have to. I can’t continue to do nothing, especially now that I’m doubting The Society’s involvement. My stalker is growing more and more brazen, and involving the police could make things worse, but at least I’ll know I tried. I’ll know that I did what I could to fight back.
I take a deep breath and dial 911.
Twenty minutes later, a fist pounds on my apartment door, followed by a deep voice announcing the arrival of the police. I grab a fleece blanket off the floor to wrap around myself and cover my thin tank top and panties before flipping on the lights and hurrying to open the door. I was confident the man was gone but couldn’t force myself to leave my bed until reinforcements arrived.
“Ma’am, we got a report of an intruder.” Two uniformed officers stand in the hallway. The one in the lead is young and decently attractive, while his partner looks close to retirement and likely coasting until his pension kicks in. He rocks back on his heels while his eyes drift down the hall.
“Yes, that’s right. Please, come in.”
“Are you alone here?” The officer’s warm brown eyes scour the inside of my apartment.
I step aside to allow them in. “Yeah, it’s just me.”
He dips his chin. “How about we have a seat at the table, and you tell us what happened?”
I do as he suggests, a dizzying cocktail of relief and worry filling my veins. These guys seem genuine. I desperately want to believe they wear badges for the right reasons and that my decision to call them won’t backfire in my face.
I give a basic rundown of what happened—waking up and seeing the man in my room. How we stared at one another, andthen he left. Retelling the events makes me realize it sounds a little absurd.
The anxious pit in my stomach grows thorny barbs.
“So he didn’t run when you woke up? He just stood there, then walked out, locking the door behind him somehow?”
I stare at the young officer blankly, realizing I did have to unlock the deadbolt to let them in. If the stalker could unlock the door, he could lock it when he left, but why would he? Once he was seen, wouldn’t he make a getaway as quickly as he could?