Fuck. What the hell am I supposed to do now? I can’t report it to the police because then I would also get in trouble, and I don’t want that to happen. Also, ‘my new little friend’, are they referring to Wesley because he sure as hell ain’t my friend, I barely know the guy. But I suppose objectively speaking, he is the closest thing I have to a friend, but that doesn’t automatically make him one. 

It’s a meaningless threat, I tell myself. I don’t care what happens to him, so it doesn’t matter that they threatened him. Right now, all I need to do is find out how they found me and how they know about Wesley, considering I only met him less than a week ago.

I think back to that second message, I don’t think I had ever realized this place had a name, much less one so incredibly ironic as The Colony. The place where everyone was forced to retreat in order to stay alive, being called a colony, is disgustingly ironic. What's worse is that if you think about it long enough, it’s kinda treated like a colony, a colony with no motherland, that is, because as far as I know, this is the only place in the universe where humans live. 

Ding “New message from: Unknown Number” ugh, great, just what I need, more threats and panic attacks. I take a deep breath, mentally preparing myself for the emotional turmoil about to come. I hesitate, whatever is in this message could change my life entirely, but at the same time, I’m not willing to risk whatever the sacrifice is for not opening it. 

 “Time is wasting, little one. If I don’t hear back from you soon, I will take action, and it won’t be pretty for anyone, especially you.” I should’ve seen this coming. I can’t keep running forever, they’ll catch up to me eventually, no matter what. 

I sigh. I know I need to respond soon, but I have no idea what to say. I know that if I deny them, that will only cause more trouble. On the other hand, I don’t want to go back to that life. I still live with the horrors of what I’ve done every single day. It haunts my waking moments and my nightmares. 

I shudder at the thought of going back and reliving all that trauma again, it terrifies me. And what’s worse is I find my mind drifting off and thinking about Wesley again, and what would happen to him regardless of my decision. I hate that I’m thinking about him again, his safety and well-being should be none of my concern, yet I find myself worrying anyway. 

Despite my better judgment, I find myself trying to find a way to reach Wesley. Just as I was about to grab my coat to go out and find him, there is a knock on my front door. I open it and see Wesley standing there. Does this guy have a radar that goes off whenever someone thinks about him? There’s no way this is just a coincidence.

“I accidentally took your pen with me.” He says sheepishly, handing it over to me. I hesitate for a moment, mentally going over the options of how I could handle this situation. Making my decision, I grab Wesley’s wrist and pull him inside, quickly pulling the door shut behind him. 

I take the pen from him and drag him into the living room and sit him down on my raggedy couch. Hastily, I grab a sheet of paper and start to write. ‘You could be in danger, it’s not safe to go outside right now. Stay here until I tell you otherwise.’ I hand the paper to Wesley and start to pace as my brain races with possible ways this could go down, and how best to respond to the unknown number.

 “Um…what? What do you mean by danger?” Wesley asks, obviously confused, and confused is how he will stay because I’m not going to explain it to him more than I already have. It will only put him at a higher risk, and I’m not putting another person's life in danger because of one of my problems, never again.

Going back over to my computer, I sit down and start writing out my response. “Whatever it is you want from me, I won’t do it unless you leave ‘my friend’ out of it. He has done nothing to deserve dealing with your bullshit.” I hesitate before hitting send, knowing that this single message will change everything. After sending the message, I make sure to close out the app. I don’t know how nosy Wesley is, and I don’t want to find out the hard way. 

“Edi…I can’t stay here,” Wesley mutters so quietly I almost didn’t hear him. I turn around slowly, wondering what could possibly be so important that he’d risk his own safety for it.

“My cat…Muffin, I have to take care of her,” Wesley continues, I didn’t know he had a cat. I grab the piece of paper from before and write, ‘If you tell me where she is, I’ll go get her, but you will not be leaving this apartment until I deem it safe.’ I hand him the paper so he can read it. I watch as this wide smile spreads across his face. 

“Really? You’d do that for me?” He asks, sounding genuinely surprised. I nod. I want to get this done with as soon as I can, so the sooner I get the location out of him, the sooner I can retrieve the feline.

“She’s not too far from here. I can draw a map on the back of the paper. Does that work?” Wesley looks at me, waiting for approval. I nod, and he instantly starts to draw a map to the location of Muffin. 

I watch as he draws out the map, and I can’t help but wonder what is up with this guy’s priorities—putting a cat before his own safety? Is he trying to get himself killed? If it were me, I would trust the cat to defend itself while I took care of my own needs first. Just another thing to add to the list of differences between us.