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*Copyright: This material is protected by copyright owned by Meg Farrell, Farrell Writes LLC. 2016
“Oh. My. God.” I get up from the chair by her bed and run out into the hallway. I blow past Justin and Cameron, headed straight for the stairwell. I don’t have time for an elevator. He found me. He found me, and he beat my roommate. He’s been harassing her because of me. He. Found. Me.
I make it down three flights of stairs before Justin catches up with me. When he does he blocks me from going down the next flight. I’m out of breath.
“Alana, what’s going on?”
“I have to leave. He found me. He found Kate. He nearly killed her. He’s found me and I have to leave. He’ll kill me for real this time.”
He’s not going to kill you. Cameron and I will take care of this. Please, stop trying to run away. We don’t know for sure that he’s here for you. He could just be a straight-up psychopath. Please, Alana. Let me help.
“Can’t breathe,” I manage, barely audible.
“Come here. You can’t breathe because you’re having a panic attack.” Justin wraps me in his arms and starts coaching me to calm me. He keeps repeating, “You’re okay. You’re safe. In and out. Match my breathing. Listen to my heart.”
Slowly, I start to catch my breath. “What are you going to do? You aren’t a cop. You can’t take him out or something.”
Justin looks stern. “You’re right, but I know the right people. Please let Cam and I help. We can get you both protected.”
Reluctantly, I agree. What choice do I have at this point? “Justin? Don’t be angry with me. I’m terrified.”
“I’m not. I hate that this is happening. Cameron told me who did this in the hall. When he told me, my skin went cold. I knew it would only be a split-second before Kate told you, and this would be your reaction. I should have stopped you upstairs. Girl, you can move!”