Hope buried herself under a fortress of blankets as she listened to the shower run. She pulled out her phone and hovered on the message screen while she debated. Part of her wanted to text the number and beg them to stop. She couldn’t take this anymore. The other part of her didn’t want to give them that sick satisfaction. 

She was pulled from her thoughts by a knock at the door. She pulled up the feed from her front porch and watched as the delivery man stepped back to take a picture of the package sitting next to her front door before he headed back down the driveway. Weird.

Glancing at the bathroom door on her way, Hope hurried to the door and pulled the package inside. The box was suspiciously blank. Suspiciously light too. 

She carefully opened it, ignoring Lizzie’s voice in the back of her mind that whispered “anthrax”, and pulled out the note on top.

If you don’t want your husband to end up like Ryan, put this on and let me see.

Hope dropped the note like it was on fire. Her skin crawled with disgust as she looked at the lingerie in the bottom of the box. She couldn’t do that. She couldn’t let that sick fuck -

She couldn’t even finish the thought. No .

She pulled out her phone, hands shaking as she typed out her message.

You can’t scare me. Leave me alone.

The reply came unnervingly fast.

You looked pretty scared at the hospital. 

Can’t wait to see how it fits.

Hope was near tears. They were right. She was scared. She couldn’t go through all that again. Not if it was Landon this time. It was bad enough when it was Ryan. She wouldn’t survive if it was her husband lying, unresponsive, in a hospital bed. She couldn’t believe she was actually considering this. 

Some small part of her brain was already working to rationalize it. It was only pictures. It wasn’t like they were actually touching her. They couldn’t hurt her with photos. Even if they shared them with everyone … at least Landon would be safe.

Every pic is one day I leave you and your loved ones alone.

The shower was still running upstairs. Landon wouldn’t have to know what she did. She could buy them a few days, at least. No messages, no attacks. And all she had to do was send a few pictures …

Hope took the box and snuck away to the guest bathroom. She wanted to die as she peeled off her pajamas. 

Maybe that was the way out. Her stalker couldn’t stalk her if she was dead. There’d be nothing left for them to do.

But she couldn’t do that to her friends. She couldn’t ensure they’d be safe after she was gone anyways. What if her stalker lashed out and put them all in comas because of it? She couldn’t risk it.

She hated the way it fit perfectly. She hated that they apparently knew her size. She hated that it was a style that suited her. She hated every second of it. 

She could see her own tears and red nose in the photos she took. Every time she clicked the camera, she thought about changing her mind. She could stop now. It wasn’t too late. She could just delete the pictures and pretend like it never happened. But she couldn’t.

Curled in a ball on the bathroom rug, she tried to figure out which ones she felt the least horrified at sending. The shower upstairs shut off. 

She hurried to select three to send. Three days. Three days of safety. Three days of being left alone. It was worth it … wasn’t it?

She hid the box in the back of the closet. Maybe she needed a shower. She wanted to scrub all her skin off. She couldn’t even bring herself to look at the reply that lit up her screen. She just dragged herself back into bed as if she’d never left in the first place, and when Landon emerged with his dripping curls, he was none the wiser.