no turning back

• five •

gladys

Glorious, beautiful Friday. My favorite day of the week.

Whether in school or working, Fridays were always the highlight of my week. That much never changed about me. How could anyone not like Fridays?

Unless they had to work weekends. Then, I understood because that sucked.

After having nasty weather all week, I had an extra pep in my step as I left the house. The air carried a chill that left goosebumps imprinted on my skin, even through my jacket.

I all but skipped into town, a genuine smile creeping onto my face. I gave myself enough time to stop at the coffee shop I sometimes snuck off to when I got off early and wasn't ready to go straight home.

Ben left in the wee hours this morning to start his delivery route so he would have no idea I deviated from my typical route.

While I waited in line to get a dirty chai, I checked my phone.

No texts. No surprise.

And yet, I still felt the cool, serrated edge of disappointment slice through me.

"What can I get for you, Miss?"

My head popped up and I smiled at the barista.

"A chai latte, please, with an extra shot of espresso."

"Alrighty. Would you like some whipped cream with that?"

I briefly wondered if I should bother with the extra calories before I shrugged off the negative energy.

"Yes, please," I told him.

"Got it. And a name?"

"Gwen. Oh, and can I add a plain hot latte to my order also?"

Jesse would appreciate the coffee and I knew she liked lattes. We'd been getting closer and closer since I went out with her a week ago.

It made me realize how lonely and isolated I felt before, which just saddened me. I was happy to have a friend again. I really only needed one.

He nodded. "Of course."

I paid and then waited with the rest of the crowd to hear my name called. I opened my phone and went through my recent texts. Sighing, I clicked on the conversation string at the top.

ELLIE (WORK): little angels should know better

Obviously, this wasn't Ellie. I couldn't exactly name the contact 'Elijah' when the FBI and Ben were apt to go through it.

In fact, I couldn't name it any guy's name unless I wanted Ben to crawl up my asshole about it.

I had drafted probably a hundred different responses over the last four days, but they were never sent. I didn't know what to say and I didn't want to risk giving him away.

So I decided I'd just wait and see what happened.

Because I'm clearly a delusional lunatic for wanting to talk to my homicidal, sadistic stalker.