He Finds Me
2346 Words
The first thing I noticed was how quiet Damien became.
He stood in my apartment with his forehead still resting against mine, his hand gently against my cheek.
Neither of us spoke.
Outside, rain tapped against the windows.
Inside, I could hear my own heartbeat.
Fast.
Uneven.
Loud enough that I wondered if he could hear it too.
His thumb moved slowly across my cheek.
Then he pulled away.
“Go sit down.”
I frowned.
“Why?”
“Because you’re shaking.”
I looked down at my hands.
He was right.
“I’m fine.”
“No.”
His answer was immediate.
I looked at him.
“You don’t get to decide that.”
“I know.”
He paused.
“But I can see you.”
Something about the way he said it made me quiet.
He always seemed to notice things I tried to hide.
Damien walked toward the window.
He pulled the curtain back only a few inches.
His eyes scanned the street.
I stayed behind him.
“Do you see someone?”
“Not now.”
“Then maybe you were wrong.”
“Maybe.”
He didn’t sound convinced.
I crossed my arms.
“You said you saw someone.”
“I did.”
“Who?”
“I told you. I don’t know.”
“Then how do you know he was watching me?”
Damien turned around.
“Because he wasn’t watching the building.”
His eyes locked onto mine.
“He was watching you.”
A chill moved down my spine.
“How long?”
“I don’t know.”
“Damien.”
He sighed.
“I noticed him three nights ago.”
My eyes widened.
“Three nights?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve known for three days?”
“I wanted to know whether it was a coincidence.”
“And?”
“It wasn’t.”
I stared at him.
“You should have told me.”
“I should have.”
“Why didn’t you?”
His jaw tightened.
“Because I knew you’d be scared.”
“I am scared.”
His expression softened.
“I know.”
He crossed the room.
This time, I didn’t move away.
He stopped in front of me.
“You don’t have to be scared alone.”
I looked up at him.
“Is that what you think you’re doing?”
“What?”
“Making sure I’m not alone.”
His eyes held mine.
“Yes.”
“Or are you using this as an excuse to stay close to me?”
For the first time that night, a faint smile appeared.
“Both can be true.”
I laughed softly.
He smiled.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“That laugh.”
I shook my head.
“You’re impossible.”
“Probably.”
He reached for my hand.
I let him take it.
His fingers wrapped around mine.
Warm.
Steady.
Possessive without squeezing.
“I need you to promise me something.”
“What?”
“If something feels wrong, you tell me.”
“I can do that.”
“If someone approaches you, you tell me.”
“Okay.”
“If you think you’re being followed—”
“I’ll tell you.”
He nodded.
“And if you find another note?”
I hesitated.
“I’ll tell you.”
“Good.”
He looked down at our hands.
Then back at me.
“Now promise me something else.”
“What?”
“Don’t disappear.”
I frowned.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
His eyes searched mine.
“You don’t know that.”
“Neither do you.”
His expression changed.
For a moment, he looked almost vulnerable.
Then he whispered:
“You’re right.”
⸻
He stayed the entire night.
Not in my bedroom.
Not beside me.
He sat in the chair near the front door.
Watching.
Waiting.
I woke up sometime after four in the morning and found him still there.
His head rested against the chair.
His eyes were closed.
For the first time, he looked less like the dangerous man everyone warned me about.
He looked tired.
Human.
I pulled a blanket from the couch and walked toward him.
I placed it over his shoulders.
His eyes opened immediately.
“You should be sleeping.”
“So should you.”
“I was.”
“Not very well.”
He looked at the blanket.
Then at me.
“You covered me.”
“You looked cold.”
A small smile touched his lips.
“You care.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Don’t make it weird.”
“Too late.”
I sat on the couch.
He watched me.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You keep staring.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re beautiful.”
I looked away.
He smiled.
“You still get nervous when I say that.”
“No, I don’t.”
“You do.”
I pulled the blanket around myself.
“Go back to sleep.”
“Only if you do.”
“Deal.”
I closed my eyes.
For the first time in days, I felt safe.
And that should have scared me more than anything.
Because I was beginning to trust him.
⸻
The next morning, Damien was gone.
I woke up alone.
For a second, I wondered if I’d imagined the entire night.
Then I saw the note on the kitchen table.
You looked peaceful when you slept.
Underneath it:
I didn’t want to wake you.
And beneath that:
I’ll find you later.
I stared at the last sentence.
I’ll find you later.
Not I’ll see you later.
Find.
The word should have bothered me.
Instead, it sent a strange little thrill through me.
I folded the note.
Then I noticed something else.
A second piece of paper was underneath it.
This one wasn’t written in Damien’s handwriting.
The letters were messy.
Uneven.
Almost rushed.
I picked it up.
Three words.
I SEE YOU.
My blood ran cold.
I looked toward the windows.
The curtains were closed.
I didn’t move.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
“Hello?”
Silence.
“Who is this?”
Nothing.
Then a whisper.
“Stop trusting him.”
The call ended.
I stared at my phone.
My hands started shaking.
A second later, another message appeared.
You don’t know who Damien really is.
I looked at the black note in my hand.
Then toward the front door.
For the first time, I wondered if Damien was the danger.
Maybe the stranger wasn’t watching me because of Damien.
Maybe he was warning me about him.
⸻
I didn’t tell Damien immediately.
I hated that.
But I needed answers before I confronted him.
So I went to the bookstore.
The same bookstore where I’d first seen him.
I walked inside and found the owner behind the counter.
She smiled when she saw me.
“Back again?”
“Yeah.”
I placed my bag down.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Do you remember seeing a man outside a few nights ago?”
Her smile disappeared.
“What man?”
“Black car. Dark hair.”
She stared at me.
Then she looked toward the front window.
“Why?”
“Do you know him?”
She hesitated.
“I’ve seen him before.”
My heart jumped.
“When?”
“Several times.”
“Was he with someone?”
“No.”
“Did he ever come inside?”
She shook her head.
“He usually stayed outside.”
My stomach tightened.
“Watching?”
She looked at me.
“Watching you.”
I froze.
“You knew?”
“I thought he was your boyfriend.”
“He isn’t.”
She gave me a strange look.
“Are you sure?”
I didn’t answer.
She lowered her voice.
“There’s something else.”
“What?”
“Another man.”
My stomach dropped.
“What?”
“Someone else came in here a few weeks ago.”
“What did he look like?”
“Dark hoodie. Baseball cap.”
“Did he say anything?”
She shook her head.
“He asked about you.”
My heart stopped.
“What did he ask?”
“Whether you came here alone.”
I stared at her.
“Did you tell him?”
“No.”
“Thank you.”
I grabbed my bag.
As I reached the door, she called after me.
“Wait.”
I turned.
She pointed toward the street.
“That’s the car.”
I looked through the glass.
A black car was parked across the road.
My heart began pounding.
But this time…
I knew it wasn’t Damien’s.
The shape was different.
The windows were darker.
The engine was off.
Someone was sitting inside.
Watching me.
I stepped backward.
The bookstore owner locked the door.
The car suddenly started.
It pulled away.
I reached for my phone.
I called Damien.
He answered before the first ring finished.
“Where are you?”
I swallowed.
“The bookstore.”
Silence.
“Why?”
“Because I found something.”
His voice changed.
“What happened?”
“Someone else has been asking about me.”
A pause.
“Where are you exactly?”
I gave him the address.
“I’ll be there.”
“Damien—”
“I’m coming.”
The call ended.
Ten minutes later, his black car pulled up.
He got out before the engine was fully off.
He crossed the street quickly.
His eyes found me immediately.
He looked at my face.
Then my hands.
Then the street behind me.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Did someone touch you?”
“No.”
“Did someone follow you?”
“I don’t know.”
His jaw tightened.
“Tell me everything.”
I did.
The bookstore.
The stranger.
The phone call.
The note.
Everything.
Damien listened without interrupting.
When I finished, he looked toward the road.
“Get in the car.”
I didn’t move.
“Why?”
“Because we’re leaving.”
“Where?”
“Somewhere safe.”
“Your place?”
He looked at me.
“Yes.”
I hesitated.
He noticed.
“You don’t trust me.”
“I don’t know what to believe.”
His expression fell slightly.
“I understand.”
That surprised me.
“You do?”
“Yes.”
He stepped closer.
“But I need you to understand something too.”
“What?”
“I’ve never lied to you about wanting you.”
His voice was quiet.
“I’ve never lied about watching you.”
He looked directly into my eyes.
“But I didn’t make that call.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t leave that note.”
“I know.”
“And I don’t know who did.”
He reached for my hand.
Stopped.
Waiting.
I slowly placed my hand in his.
His fingers closed around mine.
“I’m scared,” I admitted.
His expression softened.
“I know.”
“What if this gets worse?”
“Then I’ll be there.”
“What if it’s you?”
He went completely still.
I regretted saying it.
But I needed the answer.
Damien looked at me for a long moment.
Then he said:
“Then you should leave me.”
My chest tightened.
“Would you let me?”
He nodded.
“Yes.”
“Even if you didn’t want me to?”
His eyes darkened.
“Especially then.”
I believed him.
That was the problem.
I believed him.
And somehow, that made me want him even more.
⸻
That night, Damien took me to his house.
It was enormous.
Dark.
Quiet.
Beautiful in a way that felt almost haunted.
I stepped inside.
“Welcome to my world.”
I looked around.
“Your world is creepy.”
He smiled.
“I know.”
He took my coat.
I watched him hang it carefully.
Then he turned toward me.
“You can stay here tonight.”
“Are you staying?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
His eyes met mine.
“Because you asked me to.”
I didn’t remember asking.
Maybe he saw the question in my expression.
“You didn’t say it out loud.”
He stepped closer.
“But you looked at me like you didn’t want to be alone.”
My heart fluttered.
He reached for my face.
This time, I leaned into his hand before he touched me.
His eyes softened.
“You’re learning.”
“Learning what?”
“How to ask without speaking.”
I smiled.
“And you’re learning?”
“To listen.”
For a moment, everything felt quiet.
Safe.
Until I noticed the hallway behind him.
A single black door.
Locked.
I pointed toward it.
“What’s in there?”
Damien’s entire expression changed.
“Nothing.”
I stared at him.
“That’s not true.”
He looked at the door.
Then back at me.
“Some things are better left locked.”
My curiosity sharpened.
“Why?”
His voice dropped.
“Because if I open that door…”
He paused.
“…you’ll see a part of me I’m not sure I can take back.”
He walked past me.
But before he disappeared down the hallway, he looked back.
“Don’t go in there.”
Then he left.
I stared at the locked door.
Something told me there was more behind it.
Something important.
Something Damien didn’t want me to know.
And as I stood there staring at the door, my phone buzzed.
One new message.
Unknown number.
Ask him who the girl in the photographs is.
I stopped breathing.
Because I suddenly understood.
The photographs weren’t just of me.
There was someone else.
Someone from Damien’s past.
Someone he’d never told me about.
And somewhere inside that locked room…
I knew I’d find her.
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