"I'm going to report him to the police, but I'll do it as an anonymous caller. I hope he doesn't suspect me."
"Yeah, you make sure you do that. I can pick you up from the café until you get your car repaired, if you want me to."
"Will you? I would appreciate it."
"Of course. NO problem. You should be careful. Give me your number so I can call you before I come by the café to pick you up."
"OK, here's my number, and I appreciate your help, Zondra. Thanks again."
"You're welcome. Stay safe. Goodnight, Lola."
As panic set in, I hurried up the stairs to my apartment and promptly locked the door behind me. I closed the blinds and switched on the lights. Grabbing a knife from the kitchen, I checked my bedroom and closet to ensure there were no intruders. Once everything checked out, I sank into the couch and turned on the TV.
As I sat there, my thoughts drifted to Allen again, and I couldn't help but wonder why he was developing such obsessive behavior towards me. Perhaps it stemmed from my friendly demeanor, which made him feel comfortable when we were at the coffee café.
In truth, there was no real reason for me to feel threatened by him―at least, that's how I justified it. Maybe that was my reasoning for not telling my family about him. I thought of him as an excessively kind-hearted individual, but then I remembered he seemed distraught and annoyed when I declined his offer to take me home.
As I thought about whether to tell my parents what was going on with Allen, I shuffled into the kitchen to warm up some leftovers for dinner. I couldn't help but wonder if I was blowing things out of proportion or if I was just being naive by keeping quiet.
My parents have always emphasized how important it is to be cautious around strangers, especially those who seem overly interested in us. Maybe it would be wise to get their take on the situation and see what advice they have. I found myself nodding along with my thoughts. I don't usually talk to myself, but when I do, it often leads me to some pretty insightful realizations.
At 6:52 p.m., I realized that if I called now, I could reach Dad before he fell asleep. However, when I called, the phone rang, but it went straight to voicemail, which was unexpected as my parents are typically at home during that time of evening.
To ascertain their whereabouts, I proceeded to call my mother's cell phone, suspecting that my father might have been driving. Yet, again, there was no reply, and my call rolled right to voicemail. Later, I sent a text message to my mom, requesting that she return my call at her earliest convenience.
Next, I called Bryce to see if he knew our parents' whereabouts. To my surprise, he informed me that they had departed earlier that morning to be with Aunt Bertha, my dad's older sister, who was not well. Her children reside out of town, prompting my parents to take the initiative to care for her for a few days.