Total pages in book: 181
Estimated words: 181613 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 908(@200wpm)___ 726(@250wpm)___ 605(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 181613 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 908(@200wpm)___ 726(@250wpm)___ 605(@300wpm)
Someone I used to trust.
“How did you find me?” I ask.
It takes him a while to murmur back. “I always know how to find you.”
Always.
He’ll always find me.
Even when I don’t want to be found.
My body flops around on his shoulders while he keeps on walking, my mind slowly lulled by the swaying movement.
Maybe it’s not so bad to be stalked.
And I flop down completely as the darkness envelops my eyes.
When I come to again, I’m with my head in a bucket, throwing up everywhere. I don’t know how much time has passed or how I even got here, but I recognize my own bathroom from the sorority house.
How did I get home?
I fade in and out of consciousness, my head banging like hell. But those red eyes follow me everywhere, and I don’t know if I’m hallucinating or if it’s real, but I can still see them in front of me between the short bursts of sleep.
I know he’s here.
I can smell his scent.
Feel his presence.
And I wonder when the time might finally come that he’ll hold up his end of the deal so everything finally comes to an end.
“Will you kill for me?” I murmur, half awake, half asleep.
He shushes me and caresses my shoulder. “Tomorrow.”
I don’t know if I really heard that or just dreamed it all up.
Warm arms comfort me, a hot breath fanning onto my hair, lull me into a dreamless sleep.
He turns his head and pulls down his balaclava briefly, pressing a soft, affectionate kiss on my cheek. “I love you. I always have.”
The whisper is gentle like a sigh of the wind. Barely audible, but it lingers in the mind. And I have never felt more seen, more acknowledged in my misery, despite still not knowing his name.
As the darkness fades and the morning returns, I blink a couple of times to adjust to the bright light shining through my window. The headache finally lost its strength, but my body still feels like a complete wreck.
I really put myself through the wringer yesterday. Somewhere deep in my mind, I believed it was better to destroy myself before those boys did it for me.
But I couldn’t even do that properly.
I shake my head, and the cold draft makes me shiver. The warm arm that I swore was here before is gone, replaced by an empty bed, the fabric still crinkly from where he lay.
I crawl out of bed and look around, but he’s nowhere to be seen.
“Ghost?”
I check the bathroom, but it’s empty too. Even the bucket has been cleaned. And when I look in the mirror, I’m clearly wearing a nightgown that I didn’t put on myself.
What the …?
Frowning, I open the door and check all my fellow sorority girls’ bedrooms until I find someone who’s there. “Hey, did you see me come in last night?”
“No,” she says.
“Did anyone else?”
She shrugs. “Not that I know of. I didn’t even know you were back.”
“Oh …”
So he did it in secret.
Did he come in through the window? Or did he break in through the front door?
I shiver at the thought.
He knows me, more than I’d like to admit, and I could swear he whispered something in my ear last night … something about … love.
My heart throbs in my chest, and I plant my hand right there to feel it as the warmth begins to flood my body.
Could it be?
A phone buzzes, and I head back into my room to find it vibrating on my nightstand. I pick up the call.
“Aspen? Where are you?” It’s Ivy.
“What? I’m home, why?” I rub the sleep from my eyes.
“You’ve got economics too, don’t you?”
“What about it?” I mutter, yawning.
“That’s now. It started five minutes ago.”
My eyes widen, and I spin on my heels to check the clock on my wall. “Oh shit!”
Grey
I’m sorry.
I’m sorry.
I’m sorry.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
I keep writing and deleting the same words over and over. I want to say something, anything, but I don’t know if words will ever be enough to describe how I feel about her. How I wish I could undo the damage I’ve done out of spite, out of jealousy.
My phone nearly breaks under the palm of my hand, so I tuck it back into my bag and turn away so I can force myself not to check it every five minutes, hoping for a sign of life. I breathe out a sigh. I’m not even listening to the professor standing in front of class. All I can think about is Aspen and how hurt she must be. I didn’t want to hurt her, yet I ended up doing just that by being a possessive asshole who couldn’t stop collecting pictures of her like an addict.
Goddammit.
If only that fucker hadn’t found those cameras.
What was he doing in her room anyway?