Max was busy this evening, so our meeting had to be postponed. After making myself dinner, I settled into his spacious living room in front of the enormous TV.
Scrolling through my social media feed, I noticed a new message from the stalker. What does he want this time?! I opened the message—and froze.
“Go back home. Don’t think you’re safe in Max’s apartment.”
“Go to hell,” I replied.
Another message came almost instantly. He’d never answered this fast before.
“Doesn’t it worry you what might happen to him?”
My heart dropped into my heels. I didn’t like these hints at all. If someone got hurt because of me again, I wouldn’t survive it.
“What do you want from me?”
This time the reply didn’t come right away. Apparently, the stalker enjoyed tormenting me with the wait. My phone rang,
