My books? Nope.
Myvibrator? Not here.
My thumb is hovering over the button to call the police and report a robbery when a text pops up.
Anonymous:Don’t be mad.
I freeze.
Emily:Did you steal all my things?
His reply is immediate.
Anonymous:Not stolen. Moved.
I stare at the message in shock.
Before I can reply, the sound of my window opening has my head snapping up as a man steps into my living room window.
My stalker extends to his full height, that creepy mask firmly in place, and I almost take a step back, but I straighten my spine, glaring at him. Though, my heart is thudding a mile a minute.
“Give me my belongings back,” I hiss.
He rumbles a laugh. “I told you, they’re not stolen, just moved.”
Exasperated, a heavy sigh escapes my lips, a sound of frustration and defeat. “Why?”
“Because Graham can’t live here, and I know you miss him.”
It takes a second for my mind to process his words. “What have you done to my cat?”
He shakes his head at me. “I brought him home. Your parents are very polite.”
My breath seizes in my lungs.
With trembling fingers, I dial my mum's number.
“Hi Em,” she greets, and some of the tension drains, knowing he hasn’t hurt her.
“Hey, just checking—how’s Graham?”
"Oh, let me find him." My heart rate settles as she shuffles on the line. "I don't know where he is." It staccatos again.
"What do you mean you can't find him?"
"You know how he is; he comes and goes as he pleases."
My mouth drops open. How could they not notice my cat ismissing?
He really does have my cat.
I glare at my stalker. He has the audacity to tilt his head like he’s amused.
"When did you last see him?"
My mum shouts to my dad in the background. "A couple days. I'm sure he's fine, love."
"Right. Yeah." I can't believe I trusted them to look after him.