I grip on to Logan’s hand tighter as we walk deeper into our apartment. Not one single item in the living room or kitchen looks disturbed, still in the same place it was when Logan and I had left hours before. Logan stops in the living room, placing the wet grocery bag on the coffee table. He turns to face me, still holding on to my hand. “No one’s in here.” His whispered voice is a contradiction to his words. Even he doesn’t believe we’re safe. He knows something, or someone, is here. The apartment feels as if all the life has been sucked out of it. The darkness pouring into every corner of every room.
A brief wave of foolish relief hits me before I remember that we still need to check the rest of the apartment, including our bedroom and the bathroom. Logan leads us down the hallway and almost immediately I spot something sitting on top of the neatly made bed. My stomach twists and the chills return to the back of my neck, only this time it feels like tiny pinpricks dancing all the way down my spine. I already know what it is before I’ve fully seen it.
In the center of the bed is a neatly folded T-shirt. The fabric is pressed and folded into a perfect square, not a single wrinkle. In the center of the black T-shirt is a large letter ‘B’. The Boston Bruins logo. On the top of the shirt is a folded note.
“No.” I cover my mouth with my hand then turn to Logan with wide panic-stricken eyes.
His eyes are just as wide as mine only they’re locked on the shirt and note resting on our bed. He doesn’t speak a word. I stand in silence, watching as his jaw tics. I can see the thoughts running through his mind. He’s deciding what to do.
I reach for the taped note with a trembling hand. My rain-soaked, nervous fingers reach out, pinching the thin sheet between them.
I jump when I feel a tap on my arm. I gasp for air when I turn around, realizing it was Logan. He raises his finger to his mouth, reminding me to stay quiet. Staying silent, he gently nods his head toward my hand, his eyebrows bending in confusion. I’m still holding the note between two fingers. I’m holding it as if it contains some sort of poison or deadly virus. Its weight grows with every passing second, the heaviness quickly becoming too much for me to handle. Panic rises inside me and the feeling is all too familiar. My stomach twists with every painful heartbeat pounding in my chest.
Logan’s eyes move to the note in my hand. Our clothes are still soaked from the rain yet the short strands of Logan’s hair have already completely dried. Rain droplets are still dotted across his skin, dripping their way down with every nervous breath he takes.
The thin paper is an off-white color and I quickly recognize it. It’s a piece of paper from one of my sketchbooks. Aside from the words written inside, it’s completely blank, unused.
I hold my breath as I slowly open the folded paper and gasp when I read the words written in bold ink.
You should have known I wouldn’t give up so easily. You may have moved on, but one thing hasn’t changed. You’re still MINE.
“What does it say?” Logan’s eyes are steeled on me, his face tense as he waits for me to respond. When I don’t, he asks again. “Lena. What does it say?”
“I can’t...” My breaths begin to quicken and my throat swells. It’s becoming harder to breathe and the longer I keep my feet planted where they are the more I’m allowing the panic to overtake me. I lift my arms and run my fingers through my hair, hoping it will somehow relieve the pressure on my chest and the sickness brewing inside me. “I...”
Logan rips the note from my shaking hands when I don’t answer him and immediately begins reading the note. Wide eyed, he snaps his head up, the message clearly injecting fear into him the same way it had for me. “We have to leave.”
“Leave?” I’m hearing Logan but his words fall on deaf ears. I don’t understand him.
“Yes. We need to get out of here. We aren’t safe here anymore.” Logan grips my face in his hands, his fingers catching the silent tears streaming down my face. I hadn’t realized that I was already crying.
“Look at me, Lena.” Logan’s attempting to calm my nerves and when my eyes meet his I’m stunned to see his so determined. He’s definitely more rational and aware than I am right now.
“We have to go.” Then as if he flipped a switch, he moves quickly, taking large steps to the closet. Within seconds, he tosses my pink overnight bag to me then begins filling his black backpack.
I’m holding the note, still staring at the shirt as if I’m expecting it to suddenly spring to life and jump off the bed.
“Lena.” Logan’s hand is suddenly on my shoulder. It sounds like his voice is underwater. “I know it’s hard but we have to go.”
“He was supposed to be gone. I gave him the chance to start over.” I face Logan with tear-filled eyes and swallow the lump in my throat. “Where are we going to go, Logan?” Worry begins to replace the panic and time starts to slow down.
“Look, Lena. I know this is really difficult right now but we need to go.” Logan points to the shirt. “This is clearly Julian sending a message. He knows where we live and we’re no longer safe here. We need to go and we need to do it fast.”
I look away from Logan and back down to the shirt. The logo is slightly different than the one Julian had cut into pieces and left at the foot of my bed.
