Aftermath

POV Erin

I drive to Bondi to walk the beach and feel the sand between my toes. I've come here a lot over the last 12 months. Actually, it's become one of my favourite places to visit when I need time alone to reflect. I won't lie and say that the original reason I started coming here was because Ashley had brought me here, because it was.

Back then, I still longed to connect with him, strange, but true. Thankfully, the longing passed. So did the occasional driving past his house. Now I come because I love the place.

My phone pings with a new message:

Stop ignoring me lovely!

It's the same unknown number that messaged me three times yesterday, but I ignored the messages.

Me: Sorry, but you sent the message to the wrong person.

Within seconds, my phone pings:

No I didn't! I know who you are. But who do you think this is lovely?

That's gets my attention.

Ping, another message:

Come on, guess?

Ping.

I SAID GUESS?

Ping

GUESS!!!!!!

Ping

Are you ignoring me?

Ping

Don't ignore me!!!!!

What the heck? I start my reply, irritated but not enough to send a nasty message. This must be someone I know - someone wanting to get a rise out of me.

My thumbs tap away at the phone: Who is this?

I erase the message and write another: This is childish! Again, I delete and rewrite the message:

Please stop... this isn't funny. You're scaring me!!

No. Not that. That's most likely what this weirdo wants to hear. So I type out another message:

Sorry, but once again you sent the message to the wrong person. Please check the number before you send next time.

I hit send and watch as the three little dots flash.

New message:

Saw you in the paper, lovely. Yum! That silver dress was short!

A shudder runs through me. What the actual hell. No one I know would send me strange messages like this, unless... No, no, no. It's not him. As soon as my mouth goes dry, I stare past the dark choppy waves, past the ship on the horizon, and focus on some calming techniques to ease my rising anxiety.

I push my phone in my pocket and draw in a deep breath through my nose and then exhale. I repeat this while rubbing my thumb over the pressure point of my palm. It's not him. He's gone. Thoughts like that could send me into a meltdown--again.

Fact is, this weirdo could be anyone. Perhaps someone who doesn't know me but saw me in in the paper. Yes, now that sounds more feasible. Which is why I should not feed into this person's bullshit?

With the sun on the back of my neck and the wind blowing my ponytail, I pull my phone from my pocket to call mum. Through squinting eyes, I pull up her number and press call.

As I watch the foamy waves spill onto the beach, I sniffle and wipe my nose as the chilly breeze blows through my jumper.

Please answer. I need to talk to her about Ashley re-appearing.