Page 34 of Darkness

Pressing my lips together, I rustle through the drawers until I find some sweatpants and throw them over my shoulder. Then I browse his T-shirts until I find a Tampa Defiance club shirt. It’s black with a white logo on the back and the word President proudly sported across the front. I grin from ear to ear as I take it off the hanger. He’s probably going to kick my ass for this, but honestly, I don’t care. He pressed my buttons, so I’ll stomp right back on his.

Turning around, I walk over to the bed and place my ensemble on the mattress. Excitement bubbles inside me as I sashay out of the dress I never want to wear again. I throw it out of the way, onto his desk, while wishing I had some fresh underwear. I gnaw down on my bottom lip and glance back at his closet. Slowly, checking the door first for signs of movement, I creep back over and open the top drawer.

Score. Boxer briefs.

Would that be weird?

I hesitate for a moment, then throw caution to the wind.

I search through his underwear drawer until I find the smallest pair of boxer briefs I can. They’ll still be far too big, but they’ll be better than what I’m wearing. I slide his drawer closed, then turn back to face the door. Hesitating for a moment, making sure there’s still no noise coming from the other side, I quickly shimmy my panties down and slide his briefs up my tanned legs. With the edge rolled over a couple of times, I manage to get them to sit on me fine.

I giggle to myself.

Nycto’s head is going to explode.

I walk over and place my panties on top of my dress in clear view for if he ever walks back into the room. He’ll know right away I’m not wearing my panties. It will drive him mad, and for some strange reason, that makes me happy as fuck.

Next, I grab his sweatpants and put them on. They’re way too big, so, just like with the briefs, I fold the edge over and over until they sit perfectly in place. Grabbing the club president shirt, I hesitate for a moment. I bring it to my nose and sniff. It smells like him. This is a big deal. This shit means something to him. Plus, it’s probably disrespectful in his eyes. Then again, it was disrespectful to be part of the system that kidnaps my sister and me, drags us away from our home country, and delivers us to some pendejo to be sold as forced labor, or worse…

Fuck it.

I thread my arms through the sleeves and yank it over my head. Glancing down at the shirt, which is too big for my body, I can’t help but smile.

Something washes over me. A feeling of home. A sense of belonging.

I haven’t felt like I truly belonged anywhere since my parents died.

When they left, everything felt skewed—like nothing was quite right.

But standing here, in Nycto’s shirt, it’s like my world is falling back into place. That scares the hell out of me because Ivy isn’t here. A world without my sister—without me protecting her and making sure she’s okay—is not a world I belong in.

I scrub at my face to stop my eyes from watering and head back over to the closet to close it. My mischievous mood has soured, and now I want to sit on the bed and wallow. I close the left door and grab the right, but as I go to shut it, the small wooden box on the shelf gains my attention.

Once you know what’s in there, it can’t be unseen.

My curiosity outweighs my better judgment.

I slowly slide my fingers over the lid of the box. Inhaling, I hold my breath as I carefully open it. I tense, half expecting a finger or some other equally disturbing bullshit to be inside. My eyes narrow, almost shutting, dreading what I’m going to witness. My stomach tightens in a knot. Taking one last breath, I open it fully.

The box is lined with red velvet. My eyes widen, and I gasp. A key? My breath catches in my throat as I pick it up. It’s an old-style filigree pattern with a skull on the handle. My head snaps to the door, and my eyes focus on the lock. No freaking way. It couldn’t be that simple, could it? Surely, the key hasn’t been here this whole damn time.

My fingers tremble as I move to pick up the key, but then the handle to the door rattles.

“Fuck!”

I drop the key into the box, close the lid, and quickly but quietly shut the closet door.

As the handle turns, I bolt over to the bed, lunge for it, and spread out, my body bouncing with my movement as Nycto enters. I turn on my side facing him, propping my head up, trying to catch my frantic breathing and not look too guilty as his eyes catch sight of my dress and panties on his desk.

He slowly tilts his head, making his neck crack. His nostrils flare like he’s trying to keep his shit together. He slowly turns to take me in, and his eyes widen when he notices what I’m wearing.

He halts dead still. Every inch of him stops moving.

Even his chest. He’s stopped breathing.

I sit up on the bed, watching him with concern. I want to go to him, but I’m worried he’s having a medical episode. Maybe I really did make his head explode. “Nycto? Are you okay?”

He finally inhales. It’s sharp, followed by him clearing his throat again and shaking his head as though regaining focus. He rubs the back of his neck. “You’re wearing my shirt,” he says, his voice gravelly.

---