Find Me Alastar

“Whose things are they? Whose clothing is that?”

“Emmaline,” he whispers.

“My name is Emerson. Who is fucking Emmaline?” I scream. “What kind of fucked up sicko are you?”

He doesn’t answer and I stand still, watching him. I’m panting in hysteria.

“I would never hurt you,” he murmurs. “I love you.”

I stand still, too scared to move.

“Explain to my why…” I whisper.

He doesn’t answer, and keeps dead still as if he is thinking about what to do.

“If you love me, Alastar, then you will explain to my why?” I sob. Please tell me this is a mistake.

He doesn’t answer as his eyes search mine.

“Whose things are they Alastar?” I scream. Defend yourself! Tell me this is a mistake. “Why is that

room soundproofed? What do you do down there?” I cry.

He runs his hands through his hair. “The room was soundproofed before I bought the house.”

“Whose things are they?” I scream. “Why did you steal the art?”

“I can’t tell you.”

I screw up my face. “What?”

I point to the front door as the tears run down my face. “I am walking out that door and I am never

coming back unless you tell me what the fuck is going on.”

He steps forward. “Don’t leave me. I love you.”

I screw up my face in pain as I step back in fear. “Alastar,” I whisper.

“I can’t tell you because you will leave me forever.” He holds his hand out for me to take.

I look at his outreached hand. “Tell me!” I scream.

“Even if I did tell you the truth, you would never believe me. You have to work this out for yourself.”

“Work what out?” I scream as tears run down my face. Oh my God, is this some sort of sick cat and

mouse game?

“I can’t tell you. I want to… but I can’t,” he cries.

Work out that he’s going to kill me? Is that what he means? I need to get out of here immediately.Upstodatee from Novel(D)ra/m/a.O(r)g

I turn and start to walk to the door.

“Don’t leave me…” he yells.

I stop and stare at him. “Just talk to me. Explain this. Please,” I sob in a whisper.

Tears fill his eyes. “I can’t. Please. I need you to trust me.” He reaches for me and I step away from

him. “I love you,” he whispers again in pain.

“Don’t touch me,” I murmur through heavy tears. “I don’t even know who you are.”

I turn and walk out the front door.

He doesn’t try to stop me.

And I don’t look back.

It’s Friday night and I sit alone in the silence of my bedroom in my apartment. It’s raining and I am on the

window seat watching the heavy droplets fall. I came back to my temporary home after I ran from Alastar

on Wednesday. I haven’t left the room since. I have no clothes, no makeup, and I am totally alone. I

haven’t even called Brielle.

I’m too ashamed.

I fell in love with a man who I didn’t know. A criminal. The same man who I know may very well try

to kill me. He’s succeeded in one way already. He has killed an innocence in me that I will never get

back. I have never been so disillusioned in my entire life. I know I need to call the police, and I will at

some point. My eyes tear up at the thought of Alastar behind bars. Why am I so in love with him?

I should hate him… but I don’t. I’m grieving the life that I had looked forward to with him.

I so wanted the fairy tale to be true.

Tonight we were supposed to be flying out to our castle to get married tomorrow, but instead I’m sick

with grief. I get a vision of us lying together in front of the fire in each other’s arms, laughing, and my eyes

close as the pain slices just that little bit deeper.

This is unbearable.

I stand on autopilot to go and make myself a cup of tea. I’ve hardly eaten since Wednesday. Hank has

been cooking for me, but I just pick at it. I can’t stomach the sight of food, let alone eat it.

I’ve decided that as soon as I pull myself together enough, I am getting on a plane back home to

Australia.

I can’t do this.

I can’t pretend that my whole world hasn’t fallen apart. I can’t hold up the façade that this is the trip of

a lifetime and that what we had didn’t matter… because it did.

It mattered to me a lot.

I just wish it had mattered to him. I don’t know what I was thinking placing all of my trust into

someone after only a few weeks together. It just felt so right. I have been over and over our last

conversation in my head. Trust me. I love you. Pain lances through my chest as I recall his tortured face.

Don’t leave me. I close my eyes as the tears burn my face. I am utterly broken, too scared to leave the

room incase he finds me. I’m scared to put my phone down incase I miss the call where he tells me it’s all

been a hoax. I’m ashamed to call my friend and hear her say I told you so. I’m disgusted to tell Mark that I

left him for a criminal.

I pick up my phone and stare at it. Why hasn’t he rung me?

Is he alright?

Is he safe?

Is this part of his condition?

Why do I care?

I throw the phone down in disgust with myself. Stop it. You’re being crazy. I hold my head between

my two hands. I’m going crazy.