Chapter 41 Forty one
Chapter 41 Forty one
Zara
Days had passed since my father slapped me and showed me that letter, days of hiding in my apartment with the curtains drawn and my phone on silent as Clara and Mia taking turns bringing me food I did not eat. I still touched it sometimes without thinking, still felt the phantom sting of his palm against my skin, still heard his voice calling me a slut in that cold tone that had hurt worse than the slap.
I was alone on Saturday night because Clara had a family thing and Mia had a date she could not get out of, I had been trying to read a book for the past hour without getting past the same paragraph over and over again. The apartment was quiet except for the hum of the refrigerator and the sound of traffic outside, I had almost convinced myself that I was safe, that no one was coming for me, that the letter was just a cruel joke and Ethan and Becca had moved on to torment someone else.
Then someone knocked on my door.
This was a slow knock, three hard raps followed by silence, it made my stomach drop because I knew, even before I looked through the peephole, that it was going to be him.
Ethan Caldwell stood in the hallway with his hands in his jacket pockets and his dirty-blond hair falling across his forehead and that smile on his face that used to look hopeful but now looked hungry. He was alone, standing there like he had every right to show up at my apartment uninvited on a Saturday night.
I did not open the door.
"What do you want, Ethan?" I called through the wood, keeping my voice as calm as I could even though my heart was pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat.
"I heard about the letter," he said, his voice was soft and concerned. "The one someone sent to your dad. I wanted to check on you, make sure you were okay."
My blood ran cold. "How do you know about that letter?"
He was quiet for a moment, I could see his shadow move through the gap under the door, see him moving his weight from one foot to the other like he was nervous. "People talk, Zara. You know how it is. Word gets around."
"Word does not get around about anonymous letters sent to my father's house in Bellevue. Who told you, Ethan? Was it Becca? Did she tell you what she sent to my dad?"
"I do not know what you are talking about," he said, his voice was still soft, still concerned, but there was something underneath it now, something defensive that made me sure he was lying. "I am just here because I care about you. I have always cared about you, Zara, even when you pushed me away, even when you were mean to me, even when you chose him over me over and over again. I still care. I am the only one who actually cares about what happens to you."
I pressed my back against the door and closed my eyes, I could not look at his shadow anymore, could not listen to his voice pretending to be kind when I knew what he was capable of.
"If you care about me, you will leave me alone," I said, my voice cracked on the last word because I was so tired, so fucking tired of being scared and angry and alone. "You will go back to your apartment and you will stop texting me and stop showing up at my door and stop pretending that you are the good guy in this story when everyone knows you are not."
"I am not the bad guy, Zara."
"Then why are you here? Why do you keep showing up uninvited? Why do you know about a letter that was sent to my father? Why are you working with Becca Halloway to ruin my life?"
The silence stretched out between us, I could feel him on the other side of the door, could feel his anger and his desperation and his obsession.
"I am not working with anyone," he said finally, his voice was different now, colder, stripped of the soft concern he had been pretending to feel. "I am trying to help you. I am trying to protect you from yourself, from him, from all the people who are going to use you and throw you away when they are done. But you will not let me. You keep pushing me away, keep choosing the wrong people, keep making the same mistakes over and over again, and I am getting tired of watching it happen."
"Then stop watching," I said. "Stop following me. Stop thinking about me. Find someone else to obsess over, Ethan, because I am never going to be yours, I am never going to want you, I am never going to look at you the way you want me to look at you, and the sooner you accept that the sooner we can both move on with our lives."
He did not respond right away, and for a moment I thought he had left, thought he had finally given up and walked away, but then I heard his hand press against the door.
"I am the only one who actually cares about you, Zara," he said, his voice was quiet now, almost gentle, which made it worse somehow, made me want to scrub my skin clean with soap and hot water. "You will see. When everyone else abandons you, when he gets tired of you and throws you away, when your friends get sick of your drama and move on with their lives, I will still be here. I will always be here and one day, you are going to realize that I was the best thing that ever happened to you, but it is going to be too late."
I heard his footsteps retreating down the hallway.
I slid down the door until I was sitting on the floor with my back against the wood, my knees pulled up to my chest and my face buried in my hands, I stayed there for a long time, trying to remind myself that I was safe, that the door was locked, that he could not get in unless I let him.
But I did not feel safe.
I felt watched.
I felt hunted and I did not know how much longer I could keep
running before my legs gave out and he caught me.