Page 9 of Run to Me

Don’t get me wrong, my family has never once blamed me for the death of our mom, but sometimes I wonder if they would have been better off if I was never born. At least they wouldn’t have to deal with my unstable self and would still have her.

I’m happy for Luca, he really has met his perfect match with Izzy. I just wish that Marco would find someone, or at least find the one who got away. I’m the only one who knows about the girl he was seeing back then. I have no fucking idea what happened between the two of them, I just know that he’s never been the same since.

I was only twelve at the time, but I remember the way he looked at her the one time I saw them both together. He looked at her the same way Luca looks at Izzy. The same way I probably look when my angel is in front of me.

I leave the bedroom and look at the space around me. The apartment is only small, consisting of an open plan kitchen with a dining room attached that houses a table, probably only big enough to fit four people comfortably even though there are six chairs surrounding it.

Opposite the dining room is the living room which is rather big considering the rest of the apartment. There’s a tv mounted on the wall above the fireplace and two armchairs that match the sofa, all of which are an emerald green color that remind me of Robyn’s eyes.

Did I give my interior designer a picture of my girl and tell her to find the furniture that was closest in color to the color of her eyes?

Of course, I did.

Did she stare at me like I was batshit crazy?

Of course, she did.

Do I give a fuck?

Abso-fucking-lutely not.

There’s also a spare bedroom, which has the same identical bed, nightstands and dresser that I have in my bedroom. I didn’t tell the woman to furnish that room since it’s not like I’ll be having friends over for fucking sleepovers, but she took it upon herself to do it anyways.

Whatever. I don’t give a fuck about the money it cost, so it doesn’t make a difference to me.

I’m just happy I get to be closer to mygirl.

I think my family would be right. I’ve officially gone down the rabbit hole of insanity, and I don’t ever plan to come back up to reality.

Sometimes I wake up and think that this was all just a really fucking weird dream and that Robyn doesn’t really exist. Like she was just an object of my imagination, which is exactly why I bought this apartment.

At least now when I wake up, I’ll know that this is real life, I won’t be in my penthouse wondering if she really exists across the city. I’ll wake up knowing that I can look out my bedroom window and see that she’s real. I’ll see her apartment; I’ll see the building of her business.

I’ll feel the chaos lessen from just knowing that she’s there, that she’s safe and protected. Knowing that I’ll only be across the street and can keep a closer eye on her in case she ever needs my help.

My only issue now is, I need to somehow tell her that without alerting her to my stalker habits since I’m pretty sure she’s aware of my presence when she walks home at night. The last thing I ever want to do is scare her.

Chapter Five

Robyn

Ever get the feeling that something bad is about to happen? I got that gut feeling the week before my grandmother died when I was six. I got that feeling the month before my parents died. I got that feeling the day my brother came home drunk one night and threw a vase at me in a fit of drugged up rage.

I’ve got that feeling now, like a dark storm is coming my way and there’s no way I’ll survive it.

Or maybe I’m just having a shitty Monday, who the hell knows.

The store has been quiet this morning, but just because it’s quiet doesn’t mean it’s been an easy day. When I first came down, I realized that a delivery of pre-ordered books had come in damaged, so I needed to reorder them, which will upset a lot of people considering the book in question has been well sought-after and eagerly anticipated for the last few months.

Then, the toilet in the back room decided to flood, and I had to call a plumber to come and fix it—only they aren’t available until Thursday, so I just had to clean up the bathroom, lock the door and put a sign up to inform the other staff not to enter.

It feels like nothing at all is going right, like I’m one more wrong thing happening away from having a mental breakdown.

I’m standing on a ladder while reorganizing the shelves in the thriller section as the bell chimes, alerting me to a customer. The noise startles me, taking me by surprise and my body jolts as I let out a yelp. The action makes me lose my footing on the ladder and sends me crashing to the floor.

I let out a curse as I land on the floor with a thud, my ankle taking the brunt of the fall.

I roll my ankle and wince just as I hear an oddly familiar voice calling, “Hello?”