Page 18 of Impure Love

"Yeah, just tired," I lie, forcing a smile.

"You sure? You look like you’ve seen a ghost."

"Just... a long day," I mumble.

"Well, if you need anything, I’m around. Name’s Jess."

"Thanks, Jess," I say, appreciating her concern but wanting her to leave.

As she walks away, I glance back at the man in the corner. He’s still reading, but I can’t shake the feeling that he’s watching me from behind those pages.

I quickly retreat to my room, double-locking the door and wedging a chair under the handle for good measure. I sit on the bed, my eyes fixed on the door, waiting for the next sound, the next sign that he’s found me.

Exhaustion begins to take hold and I slide under the covers, hoping by some miracle I'll be able to sleep. It's a futile attempt because I toss and turn, my body refusing to find a comfortable position. The lumpy mattress feels like a bed of nails, and every creak of the old building sends a jolt of fear through me. Sleep remains elusive, my mind replaying that horrific scene over and over.

Eventually, exhaustion wins, and I crash into a fitful sleep. But the peace doesn’t last.

Those eyes. His eyes. They haunt me, pulling me back to that night.

I’m in the penthouse again, the opulent decor stands out, a sharp contrast to the horror unfolding. The man on the floor, lifeless and surrounded by a spreading pool of crimson.

Hestands over him, the gun still smoking. Our eyes lock, and I’m paralyzed.

"Don’t fucking move," his voice echoes, icy and commanding.

My feet are rooted to the spot. I want to scream, to run, but my body betrays me.

He steps closer, his gaze never wavering. "You saw too much."

The room tilts, and I’m falling, falling into those dark eyes. I wake up with a gasp, my heart hammering against my ribs. The room is silent, but the terror lingers.

I sit up, wiping the sweat from my brow. Sleep is out of the question now.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stand, pacing the small room. My thoughts are a whirlwind of fear and desperation. How did I end up here? How did my life become this nightmare?

The sound of footsteps in the hallway makes me freeze. I hold my breath, listening intently. They pass by my door, but I just can’t shake the feeling that someone’s watching me.

I move to the window, peeking through the curtains. The alley is still empty, but paranoia has a firm grip on me. Every shadow seems to hide a threat, every sound amplifies my fear. I’m not safe here. I’m not safe anywhere. My heart races, a constant reminder of the danger lurking just out of sight.

My mind is franticly trying to claw its way out of the web of fear that's ensnared me. I need a plan, a way to stay one step ahead. Staying in one place for too long is most certainly a death sentence.

I pull out my phone, the screen filling the space with a pale glow in the dim room. My fingers hover over the search bar. I need to find cheap accommodations, places where no one will think to look for me. Hostels, motels, anything that’ll keep me moving.

"Cheap hotels in New York City," I type, my heart pounding with every keystroke. A list of options pops up, each one less appealing than the last. I exhale a shaky breath. I need to move fast. My eyes scan the list, landing on a hotel in Brooklyn. It’s cheap, and more importantly, far enough from here. With a sigh, I lay back down and somehow manage to fall into sleep.

The next morning, I wake up in the cramped hostel room with a dull ache in my back from the lumpy mattress. I look around startled, I slept straight through yesterday. The toll of the past week showing its damage.

The thin rays of sunlight filtering through the grimy window do little to lift the weight of dread that sits heavily on my chest. I know what I need to do first.

Grabbing my phone, I hesitate before hitting "call". It doesn’t take long for Sophia to pick up.

"Where the hell are you?" Her voice is relieved, but I can still hear the panic underneath it. "I found your note, and I’ve been worried sick! Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?"

"Soph, I’m okay," I say, trying to sound reassuring. "I just needed to clear my head. Things were getting... too much."

"Too much? You think?" Her voice trembles. "You could’ve at least told me in person. I was freaking out, thinking something happened to you."

"I’m sorry," I murmur. "I didn’t mean to scare you. I just thought it’d be safer this way."

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