Page 20 of My Stalker, My Protector

The Uber pulls up in front of the gas station. I peek around the corner of the building, and I don’t see him, so I run toward the vehicle, prying open the rear door and throwing myself into the back seat. It hits me in that moment that I can’t go to my dorm, because he’ll find me and…what? Will he kill me for running away from him? Will he make me a captive?

I staunchly ignore the hot shiver that runs down my spine and lean forward to speak through the plastic partition. Just as I do this, I see Cash. He’s exiting the movie theater with his fists at his sides, chest rifling up and down, looking positively out of his mind with rage. I choke on my fear, ducking down in the seat. “Go, please. Go. Get on the highway. I just need to change my destination a little. I’m sorry.” Through the car windows, I can hear Cash roaring my name and I curl into a ball on the seat, half terrified, half wanting to jump out and run to him.

Who am I anymore? What did he do to me?

“Where to, then?”

“Uh. Umm…” I desperately try and gather my thoughts. “There is a Motel 6 on the south end of the college campus. Take me there, please.”

“Yup.”

A minute later, we’re on the highway and I exhale in relief, sitting up in the backseat.

Think. Think. What do I need to do to stay safe? Undetected?

Obviously, he has been tracking me. But I have his phone, so he shouldn’t be able to see my location now, right? What if he has more than one phone? Or he’s tracking me on a laptop. I bite my lip indecisively for a moment, then roll down the window, throwing my phone out into the night. I can’t take any chances. Knowing it’s a fifteen-minute drive to the south end of campus, I look down at his phone, as if trying to see inside of it.

A person’s life is on their phone.

What’s on Cash’s?

I tap the side button, seeing a code is required to enter.

With a sense of impending doom bubbling in my belly, I enter my birthday and the phone unlocks, forcing me to swallow a whimper. But it’s nothing compared to the sound I make when I look down at the icons on his home screen and see a folder labeledAngel. After I work up enough courage, I tap the folder and the screen is flooded with images of me. Some of me walking to and from class, at the movies, shopping, on the bus, reading beneath a tree, sleeping.

And that last picture was taken frominsidemy room.

In the dark.

Breath racing out of control, I continue my search, trying to pretend the awful throb between my legs doesn’t exist, because how could something so unconscionable turn me on? How? There are documents in the folder outlining my class schedule, my daily activities, the names of my friends, teachers, every person I’ve ever interacted with, accompanied by notes about each one of them. My likes and dislikes. My shoe, bra and T-shirt sizes.

We’re at the Motel 6 before I realize twenty minutes has passed.

There is an incessant buzzing in my ears, my mouth is cotton dry.

My nipples are hard, like hot metal.

I’m uncomfortably wet—and not just from Cash’s fluids, which continue to leak out of me, turning my panties sopping wet. I have to face facts, there is some animal trait inside of me that Cash found and cultivated, forced me to acknowledge. I’m…excited by the fact that he followed and photographed, threatened and stalked me…as much as I’m horrified by it. But what feeling is more dominant? Excitement or fear?

Love or terror?

I don’t know.

But as I thank the Uber driver and climb out of the back seat, intending to go inside and rent a room for the night, I somehow know I won’t be calling my brother, my parents or the police. I just know that I won’t. Because through exposing Cash, there is every chance I will expose myself as someone who enjoys his ferociousness. His obsession with me.

And deep down, I hold the firm belief that he won’t hurt me.

Something inside me knows that.

At least, he won’t hurt metoobad.

Right?

Regardless, no matter how I feel about him or what he did, the fact remains that he lied to me. Duped me. Made me believe he was helping me catch a stalker, when in reality, he was indulging in his fantasies about me. I won’teverput up with lies.

I think…I think I want to explore the part of me that comes alive in the eye of Cash’s storm. His aggression and possessiveness. The part that likes to hunt me. But there is no way I can let him get off scot-free for being untruthful with me.

He’ll pay for that before he ever lays a finger on me again.