Page 12 of Impure Vows

“I was looking around, and I walked into a room. I thought it was a bathroom. There was a man, and he had a gun, and there was another man on the floor, dead. There was so much blood...” The words tumble out of me, each one a heavy stone lifted from my chest.

Sophia’s hand flies to her mouth. “Oh my God, Aliyah. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I thought if I ran and hid, it would all just go away. But it hasn’t. He found me, Sophia. He’s been watching me.” My voice cracks, tears threatening to spill over.

She stands up, crossing the room to me. “This is serious. You need to go to the police.”

I’m paralyzed with fear, the memory of those cold eyes burning into my soul. “Sophia, we can’t go to the police,” I say, my voice trembling. “This man... he’s dangerous. He killed someone without blinking.” But yet, he hesitated when he saw me. He never lowered the gun, but he didn't shoot me either.

Sophia’s face is a mix of anger and fear. “Well, we can’t just sit around and do nothing. We have to protect ourselves.”

Silence stretches between us, thick and suffocating. My hands tremble as I clutch the edge of the couch.

"Okay," I say, my voice steadier than I feel. "We need to lay low. No crazy moves, no police. We stay under the radar."

Sophia frowns, her brows knitting together. "But the police?—"

"No." I cut her off, my heart racing at the thought. "He'll find out. He'll come after us."

She sighs, clearly frustrated. "So, what do we do then? Just wait around for him to make a move?"

"We stay together," I insist. "We don't do anything noticeable. We don't give him a reason to come after us." Us.The realization that one unexpected moment has led to Sophia being involved in this situation doesn’t go unnoticed.

Sophia shakes her head. "This is insane. We can't live like this, Aliyah."

"I don't want to be the next body he leaves behind," I say, my voice breaking. "I saw him, Sophia. The gun was in his hand, and a body was at his feet. I could almost taste the danger he exuded. It was suffocating. I can't go to the police. What if it makes him do something drastic."

Sophia's eyes soften, and she pulls me into a hug. "Okay, we'll lay low. But we need a plan. We can't just sit here and wait."

I nod against her shoulder, my body trembling. "We'll figure something out. But for now, we stay put. We don't draw attention."

She pulls back, looking me in the eyes. "Promise me, if things get worse, you'll consider going to the police."

I hesitate, the fear still gripping my heart. "I promise," I lie, knowing deep down that I won't risk it.

The next morning though, a sense of dread fills me as I approach the door. I spot another package sitting innocuously on the doormat. My heart dips, a cold sweat breaking out across my skin. The box is identical to the last one, pristine white with a black ribbon.

“What is it?” Sophia asks, peering over my shoulder.

“Another package,” I whisper, my voice barely holding steady.

Sophia’s eyes widen. “You can’t keep opening these.”

I know she’s right, but curiosity and fear compel me. He's obviously trying to send a message, but what? And why am I too week to ignore the urge to see what’s inside. I know I should just take everything to the police and tell them what I saw, but I can’t. I’m too involved. I’m terrified of what seeing him again might mean for me, but that silver of interest remains just beneath the surface, a nagging sort of intrigue that won’t be silenced.

I bring it inside, untie the ribbon, and with shaking hands lift the lid. A necklace gleams inside, a silver diamond choker. For a moment, it’s beautiful, shimmering in the light. Then, I notice the spikes on the inside. My stomach churns.

“What the hell?” Sophia exclaims, taking a step back. “Are those spikes?”

I nod, my fingers trembling as I turn the choker over. The spikes are small but sharp, designed to dig into the skin. The intent is clear—if I were to wear this, it would hurt me.

“This man is so twisted,” I say, my voice hollow. “He’s not just watching me. He wants to hurt me.” For some reason, a ripple of thrill mixes with fear. What does he want, and why me?

I stand there, my breath catching in my throat. The necklace with its spikes gleams ominously under the kitchen light. My mind races, the room closing in on me. I can almost feel thespikes pressing into my neck, as if his hands themselves are around my throat. This is so fucked.

Reality comes slamming down on me, the force of it, making my heart rate quicken. My hands shake and a shudder runs through me. Curiosity be damne, how long until he ups the ante?

“I can’t stay here,” I murmur, backing away from the box.

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