Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 94220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
“When you were following him, did he ever go to the Chelsby Hill Library?”
I look at Leif for the first time since I started getting into details. I was expecting him to look shocked or horrified, but he seems curious.
Is he really entertaining this when I’m having a hard time with it, and I’m the one who lived it?
“No,” I admit. “And I don’t want to sound weird, but I mean, I was on that guy’s ass. I saw where he went to the gym. The restaurants he preferred to meet friends at. The Lowe’s he buys his plants at.”
“So it could be a coincidence?”
“You think I didn’t fucking consider that?” I practically growl as heat rises in my chest, and Leif’s eyes widen and he leans back like my reaction fucking scared him.
“I’m sorry,” I say quickly. “I know you’re trying to help. I’m defensive. That wasn’t about you; that was about me. I just… I’ve thought this out from every possible angle. And back when I was following him, I did get in my head about it, and these connections, the way he reacted, were on my mind. The more I followed him, the more it consumed me. But I couldn’t make anything else out of it. The guy was squeaky clean. And there was this tenuous connection, and I had this feeling that if there was a reason for the cops to look at him, they’d find something I couldn’t. And then that blew up in my face.”
I want to curl up into a ball, disappear so that he won’t see me while I’m like this.
I don’t like feeling so vulnerable and exposed—that’s why I keep all these damned secrets.
So I spit out what’s left to share before I have a chance to chicken out. “Then I saw him at the library the other day. And I feel fine right now. I’ve taken my meds, yet I still have this instinct, and it makes me think there’s something fucking there, and I wasn’t wrong then. What if he stopped going to the library for a while after he took my brother because he figured the cops might be checking places he frequented, and he didn’t want to look suspicious? What if he’s looking for a new victim because he wasn’t able to grab you?”
It’s a wild speculation, he has to know that, more like something out of a Netflix movie than something that would happen in real life. But it’s plagued my mind so much that I feel like I have to exorcise it from my being so that I can have a chance of letting it go. “There. Now you know exactly how crazy I’m being.” I feel dirty for sharing it, like I need to take a shower.
Like now Leif won’t be able to look at me without seeing that I’m fucked up.
In my mind, there’s a video that keeps playing, different scenes of the moment it finally hits Leif exactly how messed up I am—his eyes widen, he races for the door, he screams for me to get away from him.
But he’s still here.
Why is he still here?
“Zane,” he says gently, “I imagine anyone who experienced the kind of loss you did would be grappling with the same things you are.” Despite how exposed I feel for sharing that with him, his words make me feel safe. “I can’t imagine what it’s like to have this big question mark around why he’s gone and trying to figure out how to make sense of it. I don’t think that means there’s something wrong. And if I were in your shoes and saw those connections, I could see me having a hard time not thinking there was something there.” He quiets, then adds, “I’m sorry. I’m worried I’m fucking this all up. I’m trying to be careful about what I say, make sure I’m not making this worse, but…”
I look into his eyes again, shocked that with all the compassion he’s shown me, he could think that. “Leif, you’re not fucking this up. I’m fucking this up because I know I’m not going off much. And the past few days, I’ve pulled out all the notes I made about Isaac. Started stalking his social media. I’m spiraling right back into it. I didn’t want to talk to you because I didn’t want you to see me like this. I figured it would pass. I talked to my psych. I didn’t tell her specifically what I was doing, but I told her that my paranoia has intensified and that I’m getting those feelings about that teacher again, so she’s bumped up my dosages again. I have this feeling that I’m onto something, but then I’m also like, that’s what I felt before and…”
I let my words trail off.