VII

When I got up, I looked like a zombie from being up all night. My mind kept replaying the encounter with Clark all week since it happened Saturday night. I have my weekly meeting with Scarlett, she'll help me make sense of this.

"You look like death." Regina snickered. I shrugged. It's true, dark bags under my eyes and sunken in. I look like death.

"I didn't sleep well." I confessed. I also have a pounding headache. I went into the kitchen to make myself a cup of coffee. The first taste of caffeine sent a jolt throughout my body. I shivered in content. I smiled, pulling the cup away from my lips.

"We need to get ready for our self-defence class." Regina reminded me. I looked at the clock on the wall seeing that it was ten am.

"After our class I have my court order therapy to go to, so I'll be a little late getting home." Regina nodded her head, going into her room to get ready. I went into my bedroom to get ready. Class started at eleven. We were out the door to the subway thirty minutes later.

We walked five blocks from the subway to the building holding the classes. Once inside, the room looked like a ballet room. Makes sense that we would need a lot of space for this class. The instructor was a small, petite woman with blonde hair and blue eyes. She radiated with confidence.

"Come in. My name is Charlotte. I am your self-defence instructor. Take a spot on an x and we'll get started." We all said our pleasantries, doing what she instructed.

"Okay let's get started."

~

Once I got to Scarlett's office, we exchanged small pleasantries. I sat on the couch, leaning back, releasing a sigh.

"Violet, you look like you need to speak about something." Scarlett folded her hands in her lap.

"Scarlett, I think someone is after me." I felt tears brim to my eyelids. My throat felt thick with fear. I don't know if it's Clark, but that smile he gave me yesterday was enough to put me on edge. I was up all night thinking about that sinister smile.

"Would you elaborate on that, Violet?" Scarlett picked up her pen, putting it to paper.

"I have a feeling that I'm being watched." I bit my lip. "I can't really explain it. It's more of a gut feeling." I bit my fingernails.

Scarlett cleared her throat, seeing me chew on my fingernails. "Violet, I can see this is affecting you. Are you sleeping at night?"

I laid my hands on my lap. "No, not really. My nightmares are getting worse." I paused. "Before I went to prison I had this same feeling."

~

I just got home from our local football game. It was eleven pm by the time I got home, well before my midnight curfew. We lived in a two-story house with a furnished basement as the gym for my dad. I walk upstairs to my bedroom, getting ready for bed. I turned my stereo up to wind down from the excitement of the evening. We won our first prom football game. I took off my cheerleading top, looking over out the window. My blinds were open, ajar, the moonlight rushing in. I walked closer to the blinds, peering out. I could see a tall figure standing on the sidewalk outside my house. The figure looking up into my bedroom window. I felt fear strike me on the spot. I rushed forward, grabbing the stick and closing the blind all the way. I stepped back, clutching my hands to my chest, leaning against the wall and sliding to the floor. I tucked my head in between my legs to ease the headache and my racing heart.

~

"How long ago was your memory before you went to prison?"

"Three weeks before the police took me to the station."

"I'm going to prescribe you some sleeping and antianxiety medication," Scarlett wrote on her little notepad, tearing it off and handing it over.

I heard the shrill of the alarm before I elaborated further.

"Time's up. I'll see you next week, Vi." Scarlett stood, stretching her hand out for me to shake. I shook her hand, taking my exit.

I wish I could've told her sooner. I have this gut feeling that something bad is going to happen. It's making me restless thinking this way. I dread this day. I head off into work, taking a cab to the bakery. I head inside, going into the kitchen.

"Where's Sage?" I asked Lana, putting on my apron. She had been on vacation in Florida visiting her family. I hadn't heard from her all week.

Lana looked over at the clock. "She should've been here thirty minutes ago. She's never late." Lana walked out of the kitchen and into her office. As I waited for Lana to come back out, I got to work making the bread.

"She didn't answer her phone." Lana announced, walking back in the kitchen. The tone of her voice was enough to cause my hands to stop kneading the dough. Feeling my heart kick off for a marathon, I turned to look at Lana.

"Why do you sound like that, Lana? I'm sure Sage is alright. She should've just gotten back from her trip. What if she's tired?" I placed my hand over my heart, tears welling in my eyes. I fear for the worst. I'm still hoping for a good outcome.

"You don't understand. She never misses a shift. If she needs to switch shifts or something, she always asks first." Lana's voice thick with fright.

I came around the corner, grasping her hands, questioning her. "Do you know where she lives?"

Lanna nodded her head, taking my hand and dragging me out of the kitchen. We finished checking the customers out before we left for Sage's apartment. Lana turned the sign to close then walked to her car, getting in the driver seat and me in the passenger side.

Lana gripped the steering wheel tight. "Sage was messed up after that boyfriend almost killed her. It's been my fear that he'd come back and finish the job."

Would Clark do that? I thought. "I pray he didn't come back"

We arrived at her apartment shortly, thanks to Lana's leadfoot. We walked up to her building. Lanna pressed her apartment number for Sage to buzz us up. We waited a couple of seconds and received no answer from her.

"Maybe you should press it again?" I suggested.

Lanna buzzed the button for longer than last time. Again, we didn't receive a response. Lana buzzed the neighbor next to Sage.

"Can I help you?" We heard from the intercom.

Lana got up close to the intercom, leaning up to speak into it. "I'm trying to reach my friend. She lives next door. I haven't been able to reach her. Can you buzz me in so I can check on her?"

A few seconds later, we heard a buzzing coming from the door and a click from the latch. We walked inside, taking the elevator up to her apartment. Once we reached her door, Lana reached up to the top of her door frame and grabbed a spare key.

"That isn't very safe." I murmured.

Lana must've heard me, "That's what I told her" she said under her breath. Once Lana opened the door, we poured inside. Her apartment-which I have never been in before- looks immaculate. I wonder if Sage has OCD. Her books neatly lined on the shelf, in alphabetical order by last names. Her pillows fluffed to perfection. The curtains opened just a tad, as to not let too much light in. I walked farther into her living room, walking to her bookshelf. I peered down looking at her collection when I heard Lana ring out a bloodcurdling scream. A scream that almost brought me to my knees. I pushed myself away from the bookshelf, running in the direction the scream came from. When I walked into Sage's bedroom, I looked down to find Lana sitting on the floor, clutching her knees and sobbing. I rushed over to her.

"Lana, what's wrong?" I said, gripping her arms.

Lana lifted her head up, looking at me. "Sage is dead."

I paused. "What?"

Lana sobbed. "She's fucking dead!"

I let go of her, looking around the room. I was not prepared for what I saw.