Part 5

                                    

                                          
J
She comes by every day. Friday night she stood in my kitchen. Saturday, she drove by with Mashiho, Sunday she came alone and now it's Monday night and she's outside again.
I act like I don't see her. I've always done that. Everyone leaves you alone if you act like you don't exist.
The thing about Lisa though, is that she doesn't leave until she knows I know she's watching me. Or maybe that's just what I think because I feel her gaze on me every time and I have no desire not to look back at her.
I pull back my curtain when the car outside idles and idles. A book is open in my hand, its pages unread. I let it shut as I peek outside to see who it is. The large text closes with a dull thud that matches the single pound in my chest when I see her out there.
I try to swallow but my throat's dry.
Yeji said it's an intimidation tactic. I shouldn't have told her anything about Lisa coming by like this. She concocted about a dozen theories of what's going on with the murders and Lisa and why she's checking on me and instructing me on what to tell the cops. Yeji was animated, to say the least, but I was more interested in hearing about what she did on Sunday with her new boy toy than anything that has to do with this shit city.
My eyes drift down, meeting Lisa's and instead of glancing away, I hold her gaze for a moment.
I would feel it, wouldn't I? If her intention was to intimidate me, I'd feel fear, or a chill maybe? I'd feel something other than the quiet stillness that settles deep in my bones, the smoldering heat that simmers in my blood. Just looking at her, my body relaxes.
I swear I even see her lips tug into an asymmetric smile when I don't look away.
My heart does that thud again, and I have to loosen my grip on the thin curtain and let my head fall back against the headboard.
She'll only ever be at arm's length, so this power she has over me, this innate emotion she controls inside of me, can't be good.
The idling stops, fading into the sounds of the night and that warmth and soothing feeling disappear with it. It's sickening that something so small could garner so much emotion from me. As I reach for my book, I see my phone out of the corner of my eye.
I don't have a fucking clue where I left off. My fingers run along the edges of the pages as if my memory can lead me to the right page, but all I can focus on is the phone.
Shoving the book off my lap, I reach for it.
The cops didn't come to question me.
I text the number I know is Lisa's. She's never explicitly said it was her and usually she texts me, but I know it's her number. I want to tell her she can resume pretending I don't exist.
When she doesn't reply, I skim through the previous messages.
The first one reads: You did good today. She sent it a few nights after the infamous kiss. The night I first slept peacefully in this house after my uncle took me in.
Who is this? I asked, but she never answered.
When I first moved in, my uncle didn't have a spare room ready for me. We'd had to clear out the cluttered room he sometimes used as an office. Almost all of my mother's things had to be thrown away in the move. Same thing with some of my possessions, not that I had much. This townhouse was already full, and I wasn't even sure if I was staying here for long. No one told me anything. No one but Lisa in a nameless text.
The phone pinging in my hand scares the shit out of me, spiking my adrenaline and forcing my heart to race up my throat. I nearly slam my head back against the headboard, but somehow manage to calm myself down.