If Dave is dead, Andrea is next.

And then me.

There are no coincidences like this, and I can’t just wait around to be a sitting duck. I can’t ignore it any longer. I can’t pretend to be okay and walk through this life as if I’m only a ghost. It’s what I’ve done for as long as I can remember, and maybe weeks ago, I would have prayed for the end to come quickly and peacefully.

But I’m not ready to go. I don’t want to die.

I want to run away from all of this.

I want to be free of it all.

I want more than this shit life.

More than anything, I want Sebastian to come with me.

The front door to his house opens, and I don’t wait for him to speak. “There’s something wrong with me,” I tell him, feeling every inch of my throat go dry and the pit in my stomach growing heavier and heavier. I heave the words up my throat. “Someone is killing them and if you don’t believe me, that’s fine.” The last word cracks as I feel myself unraveling.

Sebastian stays by the door, completely still and watching me, watching as I transform into a lunatic in front of him. I don’t know what he thinks of all this, of how often I’m nothing but an emotional mess. The nightmares, the list. I can’t imagine what he thinks, he always brushes it aside, but I can’t do it any longer.

“I can’t pretend it’s a coincidence.”

He finally speaks, low and with a note of apprehension, “What brought this on? The text?”

My body is ice cold as I sit on the sofa, pulling my knees into my chest and refusing to look him in the eyes. “I don’t think it’s someone messing with me.” I dare to peek up at him, willing him to feel the very real fear that keeps me on the edge of sanity.

“I wish I could kill him. Whoever it is that’s fucking with you.”

It shreds me inside to hear the pain in his voice. “I’m not crazy,” I beg him to understand.

“I wrote that list, Bastian. I wrote it.” The confession is so close, it’s begging to come out and be brought to life. With each word scarring its way through my chest, I give in to the weight of it. “And my name was on that list. I wanted them dead and I wanted to die,” I tell him as the tears prick at the back of my eyes and I hold myself closer.

Tears leak down my cheek as I rest my heated face against my knee. “I don’t want to die,” I repeat the one thing I know to be true right now, even if that hasn’t always been the case.

“Shh,” Bastian shushes me, coming closer and sitting next to me on his sofa. I’ll never know how he so easily comforts me, how he doesn’t hesitate to wipe my tears away and pull me into his arms. When I’m like this, on the brink of insanity.

“I’m not crazy,” I whisper and wonder if it’s true.

He rocks me as I gasp for air and try to force the crying to stop. “It’s my fault they died,” I whisper the harsh truth and his rocking stops, but then continues. My heart races, needing him to tell me something. Anything. To tell me I’m not crazy and that he’d run away with me. That’s what I want more than anything.

“Please,” I beg him, but I don’t have the strength to voice the only thing I’ve ever wanted.

“There’s nothing on the news about Dave,” he tells me after a long moment. My head shakes, wanting him to listen to me and believe me. I don’t care what’s on the news; I know what I feel in my gut.

“I need you to believe me.” I try to convince him as I say, “I can feel it. I know it. Whoever it is, they aren’t lying.”

I’m holding him so tightly; my knuckles turn white. “I can’t go to the cops, and I can’t run from whoever it is. I feel helpless, Bastian.” I’ve felt helpless for so long and there’s only so much a person can take before it turns to hopelessness. “I don’t know what to do.” The last words are barely spoken. All that lives inside of me now is true fear.

“You need to relax,” he tells me softly, but his steely eyes aren’t cold. They hold so much sympathy that it nearly makes me break. As if there was any piece of me still whole.

“I can’t explain this without sounding crazy,” I tell him, although I can’t look him in the eyes when I say it. I wipe at my face, hating how weak I am. I would give anything to be strong. “I could wait for the night to come. I have my gun--”

“Chlo, stop it,” he warns me, his tone threatening.

“I could try to--”

“Stop it!” he yells at me, so loudly, it shakes me. My body’s trembling as I try to get a grip. I have no one and no idea when it’s coming. There’s one more person before me if Dave is really dead. That’s all I know.

“I don’t want to live here anymore.”

“Then what do you want to do?” he asks me with a hard look that would force me to be silent if it were on anyone else’s face.

“I want to run away… for good.” My body is numb as I hold my breath, waiting for him to say anything at all, but my chest squeezes with a new kind of pain when he says nothing.

“Please say something,” I beg him.

“You have no idea what lengths I would go for you. But you need to stop this, please. Don’t do this. Please, Chlo, for me.” His words are a plea that rubs salt in the sharpest and deepest wounds I have.

“You don’t understand.” I take in a quick breath and then another, feeling lightheaded as I confess, “I heard my mom screaming for help and did nothing. I did nothing.” I search his eyes for understanding, but also for the hate I felt for myself so long ago. “Whoever is killing them… if it has to do with her… they’re going to come for me.”

“Chloe, please,” he tries to silence me, to brush it off again and I push his arm away instead of accepting the comfort that comes with his touch.

“I don’t feel safe here,” I tell him while backing away. “I won’t stay here any longer.” The words themselves are both freeing and suffocating.

I’ve never belonged here; I’ve always wanted a way out.

But I’ve always belonged to Sebastian. In every way. And the idea of running, to never see him again, is the most painful thing I could ever feel.

“Please,” I beg him, not just to understand but to come with me.

“If you can’t come with me,” I try to be strong, to force the words out, but instead I turn into a blubbering fool. Covering my heated face with both of my hands, I feel the tears burn into my flesh.

“I’ll never let you leave me,” he tells me, and it only makes me cry harder. Because I don’t want him to let me go, I want him to come with me. I need him to come with me. “I don’t want to leave you.” I gasp for air and give him a singular truth in a despite whisper, “I can’t leave you.”

He pulls me in close to him, even though I’m no help at all, covering my face and ashamed of what I’ve become.

“I just need time,” he answers me and my head shakes of its own accord.

“I can’t… I can’t stay here anymore.” The last words come out strangled as tears prick my eyes. I can’t stay, but I can’t leave without him either.

I swear I could be a better person. I could be happy and sane. But not here. All I am here is a name on a list. Waiting for my death.

“I love you, Chloe. I love you.” Sebastian’s voice is soothing as he wraps both of his arms around me. I crave his touch so much that I bury my head into his chest. He whispers, “I can take you away. We can leave tomorrow.”

My body stills, my heart beating far too loud to be sure of what I heard. Please, let me have heard right. I can barely manage to swallow as I look into his steely blue eyes, praying he’s telling me the truth and not just saying what he knows I want to hear.

He kisses my hair and then brushes it away from my face as he repeats himself, “I can run away with you.”

“I love you, Bastian. I love you.” The words tumble from my lips. “Please tell me you’re telling the truth.” I interlock my fingers with his, needing to feel him and know that he means it. “I want to run away with you.”

“I love you,” he tells me, his gaze never straying from mine, “we can’t stay here. I can’t stay here anymore.”