MAFIA'S THORN

CHAPTER NINE

FLAIRE'S — POV

The last time I saw Alton was yesterday night when he put me into a car and the driver drove off. I got really scared because a stranger whom I didn't know was driving and locked the doors after listening to something on his ear piece. Alton didn't explain what was going on to me despite my protest to get some information from him and I haven't heard from him or seen him since then.

I was able to breath normally again when the stranger stopped at my apartment building. 'How the hell did he find my address,' because he didn't speak to me throughout the ride even when I inquired from him what happened.

He unlocked the doors and opened mine for me standing beside the car until I went into the building.

I have been out since afternoon and I'm just coming back now. My hands are slightly numb from carrying the grocery bags by the time I reach my door. I fumble for my keys in my jeans pocket, missing them twice then finally drag them free with a frustrated breath.

Sliding the key into the lock, it unlocks with a click and I shoulder the door open before pushing it shut with my leg once I'm inside.

The apartment is quiet.

I head straight to the kitchen and drop the bags onto the counter with a soft thud. And that’s when I remember the black SUV.

My movements slow instantly.

Vivid memory of the event replays in my mind, the way it stayed behind my taxi turning when we did even how it drove past when I got to my apartment building.

My fingers curl slightly against the edge of the counter and I take a deep breath, trying to dismiss the thought, yet it sticks stubborn to my mind.

Something about it doesn't sit right with me. It isn't a mere Coincidence due to the timing and the distance.

I tug off the oversized blue-and-cream checkered shirt I’m wearing and toss it over a chair, leaving myself in a white tank top and latte-colored jean shorts.

I unpack the groceries one item at a time. Vegetables and fruits into the crisper, milk on the second shelf, meat and fish into the freezer.

Grabbing a carrot, a cucumber, and an apple and rinsing them under cold water, I palace them on a plate before taking it to the living room. I sit on the couch and turn on the television more for background noise than interest. Blue lights fill the apartment as voices echo in the emptiness.

I barely notice what’s playing as I take a bite from my apple. My phone buzzes next to me . I pick it up and unlock the screen to find a calendar notification with three events for next week.

Wednesday — golf with a partner.

Friday — cocktail party.

Saturday — company gala.

I lean back into the couch, chewing slowly while mentally piecing together the outfits that will be suitable for each occasion. Some clients send clothes if they want me to project a specific image, while other are indifferent as long as I adhere to the dress code

I scroll through the reminder once more before putting my phone down. Trying my best to focus on the television that has been on for a while but I can’t seem to enjoy or concentrate on what’s playing.

With a weary sigh, I stand up and take my plate back to the kitchen. I rinse everything off before grabbing a glass and filling it with water. I watch as the stream swirls up, stopping just as the water reaches the brim. Putting the jug down, I pick up the glass, gulping nearly all of it in one go. As I set the glass down on the counter, it slips from my hand and shatters loudly on the floor.

I jump startled, my heart racing as glass shards scatter across the floor and Water splashes over my bare feet.

'Damn I don’t need this now.' I mumble.

I crouch to pick up the pieces, trying not to make a bigger mess, but one sharp shard cuts into my thumb. I wince in response, the sharp piece drops from my grip. Blood wells immediately from the cut bright red against my skin.

I push myself to stand as the blood begin to drip, taking a table cloth from the counter, I wrap it around my finger and head toward the living room for the first aid kit.

I take out the disinfectant, taking a deep breath to ready myself for the sting, I clean the wound and apply a band-aid.

Walking back to the kitchen, I cautiously gather the remaining glass shard off the floor and throw them into the trash, ensuring nothing dangerous is left behind.

Only then do I head to the bathroom to wash away the day.

Hot water runs over my skin, filling the bathroom with steam and relaxing all the sore muscles in my back and shoulders.

After spending alot of time under the water, I turn it off.

Stepping out slowly to avoid another accident for the night from a slippery floor, I take the towel from its hanger near the mirror and wipe a clear patch across the fogged mirror with my hands to see my face staering back at me.

I dry off quickly once the cool air from the apartment begins to change the hot temperature from the steam, then I put on my comfortable pyjamas.

Then I check the door it's locked. I check it again, still locked.

The curtains are drawn and the windows are shut. I turn off the main light and head to my room.

Inside my room, I look around, everything is normal and in their respective state. I turn the light off and darkness fills the corners of the room except for the bedside lamp that illuminates light.

I slide under the covers and pull them up to my chin, staring at the ceiling. I reach over and turn off the lamp, the room dissolves completely into darkness. I close my eyes.

***

I don’t know how long I’ve been asleep when I wake up. But the second my eyes open, I know immediately that the feeling from earlier wasn't paranoia. It was instincts.

I don’t move. The room is dark and the air feels heavier. I don't hear any sound or movement, but something is different tonight.

A wave of terror spreads through my body. I’m not alone. The thought doesn’t come confusingly, I can feel it and I'm certain. My heart begins to pound faster than it was before.

Before I can stop myself I sit upright and lunge for the bedside lamp, my hand trembling as my finger hit the switch, light floods the expanse of the bed

My vision blurs briefly. Once my eyes clear they sweep across the bedroom, they move to the door, it's closed. Then to the closet, it's shut. Nothing seem out of place. But then they land on the chair in the corner. It’s not empty.

I begin to shake.

A dark figure dressed in black, leaning back comfortably is sitting completely still there.

How long have they been watching me sleep?

The light from the bedside lamp does not reach far enough for me to see their face clearly, but I feel their eyes on me.

I am more than horrified at this moment but neither of us moves, my blood dries up.

Recollecting myself and my brain finally registering the threat, I throw the cover off and bolt for the door.

My feet barely touch the floor as I run. Behind me, the chair squeaks.

They're coming

after me.

My hand slams against the switch near the door, just as strong arms grab me from behind.