If No One Else

ᶜʰᵃᵖᵗᵉʳ ⁷

7. s i l h o u e t t e
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Two weeks.

That's how long it has been since the accident at Chandler's house.

That's how long it has been since I had found myself stationed outside her house every single night, patrolling the area until I fell asleep in my car.

That's how long it's been since I've began stalking her; protecting her.

It had somehow snuck into my routine, and now I couldn't even go home and sleep without checking up on her first.

It sounds like some sick obsession, but I know the truth.

I know that the heavy pit that settled in the bottom of my stomach whenever I was away from her was guilt, and not a foul case of voyeurism.

It was a deadly spurt of anxiety that convinced me that if I wasn't watching over her at all times, then she'd end up like them—dead, all alone, and bleeding out before I could even get the phone call that they had needed me.

And maybe it's all made up in my head, but I was in too deep to rationalize my actions, which was why I was now parked across the street from her house in the same spot I had designated as mine a couple weeks back.

I take a sip of my scorching black coffee as my eyes flicker around the perimeter of her house, making sure to scrutinize over every viewable corner of the overly large mansion.

In the past two weeks, I hadn't found a damn thing.

Maybe a prying raccoon, but that was the extent of the intruders trying to get into the Donovan estate since I'd been on surveillance. But that raccoon could easily turn into some creepy old man looking for a vulnerable girl to pray on, so I couldn't take any chances on leaving just yet.

The culprit had long since been found. He was some stupid, bitter ex-boyfriend that hadn't even had the common decency to wear a mask to cover his face as he broke into her house to scare Chandler.

In some of the recordings caught by the security cameras, he had even stopped to check himself out before continuing his so-called crime. He was ultimately the epitome of an asshole with bratty, rich kid syndrome.

He'd been locked up for a measly three days before his parents had him bailed out to be taken to a center for disturbed adolescence. That place being a luxury correctional institution across the world that helped to instill good values into delinquent children— the children being 20 something year old men. 

He deserved worse, but Chandler had been so fed up with the whole process that she had quickly dropped the impending charges and had easily let him go.

He was off getting a useless degree in a beautiful boarding school with an ocean view, while I was left to have irrational insanity.

The whole thing didn't even affect Chandler the same way it had me. She had been cautious the first few days after the incident, but it wasn't long before she was having people over again and throwing parties as if nothing had ever happened.

She had clearly gotten over the scare, so why couldn't I do the same?

It's a question I had asked myself so many times, and each time it just went back to that one night ten years ago.

They were why I was here and would continue to be, until I finally got rid of the tightening in my chest whenever I was not patrolling the area.