Tinuola stared at the box in her hand. It was beautifully wrapped in a shimmering grey nylon and a pink bow. How did this person know her favourite colours? Since her move to this town about 32,000 miles away from her home, she had hardly made any friends.
To my love.
Tinu couldn’t help but blush as she brushed her fingers over the package again. Perhaps this secret admirer had sent her the latest book she was in love with. She shook the box slightly but heard nothing. A frown came over her face. Maybe it was something big. She smiled again.
Carefully she unwrapped it, heart racing in utter excitement. The pink bow fell. As did her jaw.
No. No. NO.
Her heart began to race even faster; no longer in joy however. Fear came over her like a cloak and her legs quivered. She fell to the sofa behind her as she let the box escape her grasp. It fell along with its content.
Dearest Tinu, you though you could run. You thought you could hide. I’ve told you before, if I can’t have you, no one else can. I’d rather kill us both. And since you’ve dared to pull this stunt, perhaps I will. M.
He had found her.