Page 47 of He Sees You When You’re Sleeping

The phone buzzes with a new message from her. That was amazing, it reads. Thank you for making me feel so good.

Each word is a dagger of shame. She has no idea of the depths of my betrayal. I can’t bring myself to reply, to continue this charade. But if I don’t, I could fuck with her head and give her self-doubt—the last thing I want to do to her.

I force myself to type a response, my fingers heavy with remorse. You’re welcome. You were perfect. Such a good, good girl.

I’ve turned off the camera, and I can no longer see what she’s doing. I desperately want to see her. I already miss watching her, even though I know it’s wrong. My finger hovers over the laptop, tempted to turn it back on. Just one more look, I think. But I know if I do, I’ll be right back where I started.

The room feels too small, suffocating. I need air. I stumble to the window and throw it open, gulping in the cool night breeze. But it does nothing to wash away the stain of what I’ve done.

My phone buzzes again. It’s her. Are you still there?

I hesitate, unsure how to respond. Part of me wants to confess everything, to beg for forgiveness. But I know that would only hurt her more. So I type back, Yes, sorry. Just got distracted for a moment.

I was worried you’d left, she replies. I always feel a bit needy after... you know.

Her words twist the knife of guilt even deeper. She trusts me, feels safe with me, and I’ve violated that in the worst way possible. I want to comfort her, to reassure her, but every word feels like a lie.

I’m here, I type back. You’re stuck with me.

There’s a pause before her next message appears. I should get some sleep, she types. Work tomorrow. But this was... incredible. Can we do it again sometime?

My stomach churns. The thought of repeating this violation makes me sick, but I can’t let on that anything is wrong. Of course, I reply. I want to hear more about your fantasies.

I want to hear about yours as well.

Ihesitate, my fingers hovering over the keys. How much further down this rabbit hole am I willing to go? But I can’t stop now. I’ve already crossed so many lines.

Sweet dreams, I type back. We’ll talk more soon.

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