When I told her I wanted to learn techniques to truly fight an attacker, she was surprised but agreed to teach me.
Four years passed quickly. Lucas got out early for good behavior.
I had been waiting for this day.
He was finally out.
It was like he had planted a tracker on me. He always managed to find my workplace.
He started sending me used underwear and socks again. This time there was a note inside:
“Hey sweetie, I’m back. Are you ready for me?”
I tore the note to shreds and sold the package contents on eBay to perverts looking for “used” items.
Then I posted a few updates on my private Instagram, visible to only four people.
These were the four I suspected of leaking information to Lucas.
Sure enough, within two hours of my post, Lucas showed up at the plaza I had mentioned.
That confirmed the leak was coming from Michael, a former manager at a company I used to work for.
When I first started working, I hadn’t known to keep work and personal accounts separate, so I had added him.
He got lost among my other contacts since he never liked or commented on anything. I had almost forgotten he existed.
When Lucas couldn’t find me at the plaza, he got agitated.
He pulled out his phone and made a call. The person I had sent to watch him overheard Lucas say: “Didn’t you say she was here? I can’t find her anywhere.”
Just as I thought.
Michael was using my Instagram posts to pinpoint my location and pass the information to Lucas.
I just didn’t understand how the two of them had connected.
After finishing a night photoshoot, I decided on a whim to head to a bar tucked away in an alley.
The were lots of drunk couples hanging all over each other.
I posted on Instagram: “Here’s to freedom!”
I sat nursing a drink, but kept my eyes on the entrance.
An hour later, a man in a black baseball cap with his left eye missing walked in.
He looked around, searching for someone.
I got up and headed towards the back bathrooms. The man saw me and followed.
