Page 17 of Beneath the Watching

He stalked over to the couch, his face dark. “I won’t keep repeating myself. I’ve been quite lenient with you. However, that ends now. You will not return here again. Am I making myself understood?”

My eyes squeezed shut. Why was he acting like this? An unfamiliar pang pinched my heart, leaving me breathless for a split second. This made no sense; my draw to him. It wasn’t even on purpose—I didn’t know why I kept showing up in his orbit, I didn’t consciously seek it out. It defied explanation. He was the first person, since I was a child, to induce my tears and I didn’t know what to make of it.

When I opened my eyes, he was leaning over me, one arm braced on the back of the couch and his other hand on the armrest by my head. He appeared menacing, furious with either me or himself. I stared at him. There was something else beneath the mask of anger, beneath his watching. Something soft around his edges.

He wouldn’t ever hurt me, would he? I had trouble believing he would, grabbing onto the sliver of compassion I’d detected. How would he do it, if he did? Was he serious—or did he wish he was? He’d grabbed my neck in the tunnel and he could’ve killedme then and there, but he didn’t. He would’ve let me tumble over the cliff if he wanted me gone so badly.

I felt separated from my body as I dissociated. He may have been able to hurt my physical form if he desired, but he couldn’t touch my soul. I was safe no matter what he may attempt. My thoughts were detached and clinical as I pondered the extensive possibilities.

My breathing slowed down further as I relaxed into the cushions and snared a blanket from the upper edge of the sofa. “I’ll just go to sleep, that's worked in the past,” I assured him. “I’ll try to leave you be.”

Appearing satisfied, he lowered himself to the couch beside me, grabbing the blanket and began to unfold it. He stopped himself short, his lip curling, and tossed it over me in a lump. “I highly suggest you do that.”

I popped an eyelid open and quickly snapped it back shut when he narrowed his eyes. A finger trailed across my forehead, smooth and cool, and the deep musical tune I’d heard the last time I was in his room began to flow around me.

“What music is this?” The sound entered my ears and drifted down to my chest, the cadence seeming to mix within me, to become a part of me.

A deep sigh sounded from above me, but I didn’t look. “There’s no music, Mabel. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were afflicted with an illness.”

He was messing with me, there was no way he didn’t hear it. I couldn’t help myself. “You’re an asshole,” I whispered.

He rewarded me by biting my lip before he trailed his nose along my cheek. His lips brushed mine and then I was gone.

I woke up on my own couch, the morning sun streaming through the white vertical blinds of my and Al’s living room.

“You sleep like the dead,” Al sang out. “Good morning.” I heard a light thunk and knew it was his laptop bag being dropped onto the kitchen counter. The open floor plan of the house left the dining room, sunken living room, and office exposed to the spacious cooking area. I didn’t remember falling asleep on the couch, I could’ve sworn I’d slept beside my boyfriend in our bed.

The memory of my last moment with Stefan filled my head and it felt as if a ghostly pair of lips had caressed my mouth. I rubbed my face and sat up. “Good morning,” I replied.

The question of whether I’d been in a bed at any point over the last several hours hovered over me, but I ignored it.

My phone rang shrilly, demanding my attention. It was Madison, who I hadn’t heard from for days. “Hello.”

“Mabel, she’s gone,” Madison cried into the phone.

It was a relief she couldn’t see my wince. “I know, I’m sorry,” I offered uselessly.

Madison’s voice wavered in and out, letting me know she was moving around. I heard the accompanying noises in the background—a door shutting, a thump, others’ voices drifting. She was likely out somewhere for breakfast and shopping, fast becoming addicted to her lifestyle of expanding wealth.

“What could’ve happened though? Who’d want to hurt her?” my friend whined.

I didn’t answer. Kiara wasn’t known for her sparkling personality. She was difficult, emotional, and overly direct at times. I loved her, but it wasn’t outside the realm of possibilityshe’d mouthed off to the wrong person. “I have no idea,” I answered honestly. “Are you sure someone killed her?”

Madison raised her voice slightly, “Of course. What if it was that guy? What if he had a girlfriend and he was cheating on her with Kiara, andshekilled her?”

“I don’t know about that, that seems unlikely.” I thought about Levon and his scowl-y face. Sure, he was hot and probably had his pick of women—but he seemed too busy and focused to have enough time to sleep around, from what I’d seen of him.

There was a rush of voices as if she’d just passed through a crowd. “BUT we don’t know.”

I sighed. “No, we don’t. She’s been weird lately. Weirder than usual.” After I said the words, I cringed. I shouldn’t have said anything. This was exactly why I always tried not to talk too much.

“What do you mean?” Madison demanded.

Backtracking, I replied,” Don’t pay attention to me, I don’t know what I’m saying.”

“You’re the last person who’d notice if anything was weird,” Madison said, mocking me.

Instantly, I was grateful I hadn’t shared more of my recent thoughts or observations with my best friend. Her unwanted criticism burned a little, festering in a tiny knot in the pit of my stomach. I looked for subtleties—was she implying something about her and Al? Had that remark slipped out unwittingly? Maybe she was just stressed because our friend had disappeared?

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