I Have an Invisible Stalker (Guardians #1)

Chapter 30

Olivia's POV

"You getting on?" The bus driver calls out.

I'm still standing with my mouth open, gaping at Nick after he just kissed me on my cheek. I have at least a dozen questions for him, but the impatient huff from the bus driver forces me to snap my mouth close and jog toward the bus.

After I pay the fare, the door snaps close behind me and the bus lurches forward. I have barely enough time to grasp a nearby pole to prevent falling flat onto my face. While holding onto the pole I catch Nick still standing outside and waving at me. With my hand feeling heavier than usual, I return his wave and then slump into the nearest empty seat.

While the peck definitely took me by surprise, it's something else that is making my head spin with questions. The fact is that during our short encounter, Nick said the word sorry not just once but three times. He made apologizing sound so easy and natural. Like he didn't care about admitting his own mistakes and then apologizing for them.

It makes me wonder if things can ever be the same for me.

The bus ride passes without a glitch and I'm the only one who gets off at the bus stop near my home. It's darker here than it was in the street along the café and because I don't have a phone, I can't use its light to illuminate my way. This is why I give in with a loud sigh and turn in the direction of our street. Luckily, I know the path by heart, so even in the dark finding my way home shouldn't be a problem.

I take a couple of steps forward when something hooks around my right ankle. The obstacle causes me to lose my balance and I go falling forward. I'm not quick enough to catch the fall, which is why I land sprawled on my stomach across the sidewalk.

Before I can make a move to get back up, something heavy presses against my back. It takes me a moment to realize that someone is sitting on my lower back. I try to turn my head around to catch a glimpse of the crazy person pinning me to the ground when the person reaches forward. They grab the back of my head and push my face against the asphalt. With the left side of my face squished against the small pebbles, I have no chance of seeing the attacker.

"Scream and I'll skin you alive."

I freeze when I realize that the person holding me pinned to the ground is a woman. She is making her voice much lower than I'm sure it normally is.

I swallow the shout for help and the pointless question about who she is. "What do you want?" I ask instead.

"I want for you to stop digging into the car accident," the woman hisses in the same low voice.

"Why?"

"You don't get to ask why. Just do what I say. Stop trying to remember what happened or you'll regret the day you survived the crash."

"I'm not afraid of you," I say despite the growing pit inside my stomach.

"Don't kid yourself," she spits out. "And if you're not worried about yourself, then think about Mina."

"Mom? What did you do to my mom?" The single mention of my mom has me struggling to free myself from her grip. If anything happened to my mom, then the woman's fear of me finding out something about the accident will be the least of her problems.

The woman, however, pushes my head further against the sidewalk, which causes the small stones covering the asphalt to bite into my cheek. "I haven't done anything. Yet."

"Don't you—"

"You're in no position to make threats, little girl. Stop digging into the accident and nothing will happen to your mother."

She suddenly lets go of her hold on the back of my head. I immediately try to turn my head further around to get a good look at her, but she grabs a fistful of my hair and tugs on them.

"Ah!" I scream out.

Before another whimper can pass my lips, she switches her hold from my hair to the back of my head again. With incredible force, she pushes my head down, but this time it's my forehead that bangs against the stone-hard asphalt. My body goes limp and my already dark vision turns pitch black.

The darkness, however, doesn't last long.

Instead of facing the sidewalk, I find myself walking down an unfamiliar street. A strangled cry reaches my ears and I immediately stop. Underneath a lit street lamp across the street stand three men, but instead of facing toward each other, they all have their faces turned to the ground. I follow their gaze and freeze.

Curled in a fetal position on the ground is a boy who can't be more than fifteen. One by one the men above him swing their feet and with each kick, a heart-breaking cry squeezes from the boy. Then he snaps his eyes open and I swear he looks directly at me.

My brain tries to process what I'm seeing, yet before I can do that, I find myself moving forward. Step by step my feet hurry down the street, but no matter how far I go I still see the boy's tear-stained eyes and the three brutal men standing above him.

Did they see me? Are they now coming after me?

I glance behind my back, but there is no sign of anyone following me. Instead of slumping in relief, I can't stop my feet from rushing forward. I round a left corner onto another street and then continue down that one.

The farther I get the heavier the pit in my stomach grows. What have I done? Why did I run? Why didn't I call the police?

As if on cue, the phone I didn't even know I was holding in my hand goes off. While still hurrying forward, I begin to lift the phone to my face. I can ask whoever is calling me for help. Then I need to call the police and tell them what I saw.

Just before I can see the caller ID, a set of bright headlights fills my vision. Something massive crashes into my left side and the phone is torn out of my hand. The sound of screeching tires fills my ears, while I hit the hard asphalt back first. My eyes are wide open, but my lungs struggle to let me take a deep breath. Why does my body hurt so much?

"Shit!" I hear a feminine voice curse, which is followed by the sound of snapping car doors. "Hey, are you okay? Can you hear me?"

I hear the woman coming closer, yet before she reaches my side, my vision turns black. 

Instead of on my back, I'm once again lying on my stomach, with my head resting on the rough asphalt. This time, however, there isn't anyone sitting on my back.

With a quiet groan, I lift my upper body and fold my legs, so I end up kneeling on the sidewalk. Opposite to the memory of the accident, the only part of my body that hurts right now is my head. I reach to my forehead, where my fingers brush against a warm and sticky liquid.

Blood.

My hand shakes as I pull it away and glance down at my blood-covered fingers. Yet despite the blood, what I'm more focused on is the new-found memory.

They were right.

While the accident hadn't been completely my fault, I made another huge mistake that night. I walked away from someone in need without calling for help. No wonder I remember feeling gut-eatingly guilty right before the accident.

The bloody fingers I'm still holding in front of my face sway in and out of focus, but I still force myself to stand up. Step by step I drag my feet down the sidewalk, around the corner, and then in the direction of our house.

No matter what, I need to make sure Mom is okay and then head over to the police station. Because despite the mess inside my head, I'm sure of two things.

First, the driver from the night of the accident was a woman, and second, she's the same person who just attacked me.

***

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Much love

                - E