A Stalker's Ransom

| Brixton |

Feeling like my throat is closing up and I can't breathe, I continue to pace around in my living room, anxiously waiting for the mother fucker who has Harley to text me back. There's a ringing in my ears that won't stop. My heart thumps like a horse's hoofs as they gallop wildly.

I've been through some shit in my lifetime, but nothing compares to the shit I'm going through tonight.

Callum has my little bird. He fucking has her and is holding her ass ransom. For what, though? I'm not too sure.

My throat burns from chain smoking cigarette after cigarette, trying to get the nerves in my body to relax, but given the situation, it's obviously not working. I try not to look at my phone or the picture he sent me of her naked, blindfolded, and handcuffed to the bed, but my eyes keep darting back to it. It makes me sick to my fucking stomach, and holding the vomit down is harder than I thought it would be.

I rush over to the garbage can in the kitchen just in time for the throw-up