I went and took a shower since I was all dirty and sweaty from the soccer. When I got out and got dressed, I took out my laptop and settle down to write. After about an hour, I heard knocking at my window. There was no way I was going to open the drapes to see what was going on, so I went to Jordan’s room and woke him.
‘Someone is at my window.’ I signed.
Jordan jumped and went to sneak out the back door. I followed just to wait in the great room. I couldn’t hear anything and he’d been gone for ten minutes. I was about to call the police and put on the emergency recording Jordan had made for me when the front door banged open, and I saw a huge figure standing there blocking out the light.
I wasn’t going to wait around. I knew it wasn’t Jordan, so I ran. I went out the back door and into the woods. I knew a thousand hiding places I could go, and then I could text James and let him know that something had happened to Jordan. That was the only explanation. I knew he’d never allow someone in our house willingly. I started crying. What if the phycho had gotten to him? I could never live with the knowledge of me being the reason one of my brothers were hurt. They were my life. They were all I had left, and here I was running away like the coward I was, but I couldn’t make myself turn around to check on him either.
I ran past the creek onto the triplet’s land. There was a group of trees and bushes that were gathered in a way that created a hollow space inside. It was kind of like a cave. I had found it on one of my many explorations over the years. I had even lined it with a tent on the inside to make it rain proof.
I crawled inside and sat down. When I reached for my phone in my pocket, I realized I had left it in my room. So I just sat and waited and cried and prayed that Jordan was still alive.
All I could think of at that moment was about how all of this was my fault. I could remember how my nightmare began with me being lonely and someone acting sweet to me and listening to my problems. I had met a man online who went by the name of Blain Robinson. We met in a chat room about books and were discussing the latest Laurell K. Hamilton book. We would always read books together, discussing them afterward and comparing opinions. We had both had such a love of reading. Blain said that reading was his escape from past memories he’d rather forget, but they still tormented him. He would never go into detail, but I supported him and told him I’d always listen if he needed an ear. We talked over e-mail and phone for four months.
When I moved to Florence to attend Francis Marion University, Blain asked if we could go on a date since he just lived one town over. I, being stupid back then, told him yes. He took me to a park and pushed me in a swing while we talked, and then we went out to eat. It was so romantic in my opinion, so after that we started dating regularly. After about two months of dating, he tried to get me into bed with him. I told him I wasn’t ready for that, and he seemed understanding. Two days later, when he picked me up for our date, he attacked me; injecting me with something that knocked me out.