Tease Me (Private Listing #4)

I know it’s a trap, but when will the door shut behind me and make it impossible to escape?

The cameras in the apartment are probably back to watch me. After all, he has a key. Bile rises in my throat. Why would he want me to come back here? As I top the stairs, Robert’s door comes into view.

We’ve eliminated him time and again, but what if he is the stalker? I don’t trust anyone outside of my small group. My friends and Seth, Blake, Noah, and Coop.

The key fits the lock on my door and I push it open. I choke down a scream because the apartment, which should be empty, now has furniture in it. It’s like I never left.

But as I get closer, I can tell it’s not the furniture we had. The couch isn’t dingy or stained. The table isn’t scarred from Jeff’s knife digging into it. Everything looks the same but new.

Dread pools in my stomach. When I enter my bedroom, sure enough, it looks exactly how I had it. Like I never left. With my heartbeat throbbing in my ears, I glance up at the light. I could climb up and see if there’s a new camera in there.

It probably wouldn’t be there though. That would be too easy. Underestimating my stalker is dangerous. He’s gone to a lot of trouble to set this up. If I don’t do what he says, I don’t know what he’ll do to Hope. Placing the box on the bedspread that looks like my old one, I stop. I need to breathe. I need to scream. I need to run. But I can’t.

He has Hope. No one but me knows that. I need to help her. Even if I told someone else, we have no clue who the stalker is. We’d never be able to find her.

I swallow and open the box, pushing the tissue away to uncover the new floral sundress that I loved. When he sent the torn one, he said he’d bought the same dress. My stomach flips and my hands tremble as I lift it out. There’s a note beneath it.

In bold script, it reads:

I want our first time to be special.

Take your time getting ready.

Wash thoroughly.

Listen to your favorite song.

Wear your favorite dress.

Tonight is all about you, little one.

The urge to ball the note up and throw it across the room rides me hard, but I resist and let it slip back into the box. There’s a small box inside and I open it to find my grandma’s bracelet, which was in my jewelry box in the apartment. There’s another larger box with a pair of sandals, brand new. They match a pair I wore to death because I loved them.

Nothing about this freaks me out anymore. I just feel empty and numb. Of course he gathered all these things and set this up. I’m sure he had a part in making sure all the guys were busy when he texted me and sent me the box.

I just want this over. If today is my last day, so be it. I’ve loved enough in the past month for a lifetime. I want my future with my men, but that can’t happen with this stalker plaguing my every step.

I’ll fight when I can, but I need to make sure Hope is safe first. I can’t believe he dragged her into this. But I’ll do what he wants to keep her safe. He better not have hurt her.

There’s another thing wrapped in tissue paper. It feels like fabric when I pick it up, so I unwrap it, revealing pristine white panties and a bra. In my size.

A shiver creeps down my spine as I try to keep from making a face of disgust. Instead, I pick up all the items and head into the bathroom. Against the wall facing the shower is a flat screen that wasn’t there before.

I notice the camera lens at the top, and when I turn on the shower, the light clicks on and the screen comes to life. The same song by Hozier, “Talk,” comes on, but this time it starts from the beginning. The screen begins a slideshow of pics and videos of me over the past four years.

Private moments. Candid moments. Even some with me and the guys I brought home during college. I never looked comfortable with those guys. I never felt comfortable with them. Not like Blake, Noah, Coop, and Seth make me feel.

Do they even know I’m gone yet? Ignoring the screen, I strip and step into the shower. Blake and me in this room fills my mind as I wash with soap and hair products that are brand new and the same as mine. The song fills the room with its haunting melody, but my gaze keeps being drawn to the door.

The lyric about being loved by my stalker cuts at some fragile part of me. I might not get out of this. No one will come riding to my rescue. I have to figure out how to save myself.

My gaze flicks back to the door.

What if he comes in? What do I do? How do I fight him off and find out where Hope is?

It all feels so hopeless right now. I finish the shower and dry with the towel hanging where it always did. I let my brain turn off and just go with muscle memory as I get ready like I would before I met my guys. Everything I need is exactly where it should be.

The stalker knows my life. He knows me. But he can’t know everything about me. Not my thoughts or feelings. I smooth the brush through my hair before putting on cotton candy pink lipstick.