The Last of Us

Thirty-Seven

Support group meetings have officially been cancelled. They've been deemed too unsafe to continue.

I understood it. It just felt like I was admitting defeat, even if the decision had been out of my hands.

"Where sorry, Harlow, we just can't continue to run them anymore. There has been too much backlash from the community on safety."

Liza, my supervisor, had stopped me in the hallway as I walked towards the meeting room. I'd seen the sign from a distance as she'd tapped my shoulder.

ALL SUPPORT MEETINGS ARE CANCELLED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE.

She'd watched me with a sympathetic frown, patting my shoulder awkwardly as she'd offered to walk me back to my car. I'd decline. Probably not as politely as I could have.

It wasn't her fault that people were scared. I knew it was only fair to be afraid. I just wish it didn't have to be that way.

We were letting him win, and that was honestly killing me.

Since the meetings had been cancelled, I'd also been informed by my manager that all my other work would be put on hold until I wasn't at risk. I doubt the killer would try to assassinate me in a room full of people, but I guess no one wanted to find out the hard way.

Now, I have nothing but time on my hands, and my brain is working faster than ever. I'm overcome with too many thoughts working against each other. One after the other. Theories on who it could be—ideas on how to look into the case harder.

It's utterly overwhelming that I'm scrubbing the life out of my bathroom tiles. I've never done this before, but I notice the smallest amount of grease, and now I'm scrubbing so hard that blisters are beginning to form along my palm.

"Gooddamnit," I grumble, gritting my teeth at the searing pain forming along my skin.

It did take away from my thoughts, if only momentarily, at least.

"What are you doing down there?"

I let out a scream, rearing back. The toothbrush I'd been holding clutters to the floor. My heart beats rapidly as I spin around to frown at the culprit.

"How the hell did you get inside my house?" I snap, facing Danni.

She's leaning lazily against the door frame, raising an eyebrow at me. "Climbed through your bedroom window."

"You what?"

She scoffs, rolling her eyes. "Kidding. Your mum let me in. What's got you all wound up?"

I stare at her as if she's grown a second head.

"You do realise what is happening around us, correct? And that it's starting to get out of control. I can't even—"

"Ok," she cuts me off, crouching down in front of me. "Now I'm seriously concerned for your mental state. What's happened to level-headed Harlow?"

"She disappeared when someone broke into my house, painted my kitchen with threatening words and then all my meetings and talks got cancelled because—"

"Hold up," Danni falls back so that she's sitting against the wall. "Someone broke into your house?"

I had been so caught up in my mind that I hadn't thought to tell the girls what had happened.

You're next.

"Yes," I say breathlessly. "He painted some words on my floor and...anyway, yeah."

I didn't sound like myself, and it was clear that Danni was witnessing this too. I'd lost my purpose and my self-esteem all in the span of a few days.

He was starting to get the better of me.

"Shit, Harlow," Danni whispers.

Even she looks concerned, which says a lot, knowing her usually humorous tone.

"That honestly sounds terrifying."

I nod, tucking my knees up to my chest. "It made me realise how scared the girls must have been before they—I know we've all been through it once before, but to experience it again, I..."

Sharing one-on-one with someone has always been more personal to me. A crowd of people begin to lose their faces as they blur together. One person stands out so much stronger, though. You get to see the pity up close.

"You don't have to say it," she nods. "I get how you must feel."

"Sorry, I haven't messaged any of you about the cancelled meetings; I just haven't had the energy."

Danni nods. "We all understand. It's fine. I think the others are happy to lay low for a while."

"It shouldn't have to be like that, though," I sigh. "We should be the ones that have the freedom, not the other way around."

"Tell that to any victim, Harlow," Danni shrugs. "It's always the way. It shouldn't be, but it is."

"Why'd you stop by anyway?" I ask.

She goes quiet suddenly, fiddling with her hands. "It's probably not the best time to tell you this right now..."

"What is it?" I persist when she goes quiet for too long.

"I got a new email," she gulps. "Telling me something that I can't quite decipher."

My blood runs cold as I straighten, holding my hand to see the email for myself. "What does it say?" I ask nervously.

She fishes the phone from her pocket, unlocking it before she passes it to me. My thumb trembles as I hover over the email app.

I locate the email almost instantly. Besides recognising it, Danni has also put a red flag next to it to mark its importance. Ironic.

Greetings Danni,

Here's a reminder that I'm right under your nose, and you haven't seen even noticed.

"I got sent something similar once," I murmur.

"Do you think it means we know them personally?"

"Maybe," I shrug. "I don't know anything anymore. It could be possible, though."

I stare at the screen a little longer, feeling my hand tighten around the phone. Everything was so frustrating. I wish I could pick it apart like a true detective.

"Have you got anything recently?"

I'm about to say no when I get a notification. It's a new text from Ben.

"Oh god," I say quietly, my voice thick with emotion.

"Harlow?" Danni says. "What's wrong?"

I get up from the floor, racing towards the living room. Mum's reading on the couch, her legs curled up beside her. She looks peaceful until I practically shout at her to turn on the television immediately.

She jumps, dropping her book beside her as she leans forward to grab the remote. It instantly goes to a channel with breaking news scrawled across the bottom.

"We bring to you live an update that I'm sure everyone will be relieved to hear. Jason Randall has been found alive and taken into police custody following his escape from prison nearly..."

The rest of the words blur as I collapse back against the couch. Mum begins to talk rapidly, but I do not understand what she's saying.

I watch him being led towards a police car in handcuffs before he's shoved into the back, a sturdy hand placed on his head as he's forcefully put in.

He's been caught. That's all that matters.

Then I receive a new email.