Page 99 of He Sees You When You’re Sleeping

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chloe

Jack. Stalker. Jack. Jack!

How is this possible?

I slam the door shut, my hands shaking as I fumble with the locks. The sound of Jack’s footsteps tromping through the snow fades away, but I can’t shake the feeling of being watched. I lean against the door, sliding down to the floor as sobs wrack my body.

How could I have been so blind? The signs were there all along, but I’d chosen to ignore them, to see only what I wanted to see. Now, the truth is laid bare, and its uglier than I could have imagined.

Did I think I had a stalker? Maybe... if I’m being honest with myself. Yeah, maybe. But I thought it was Tyler. Not Jack! Never Jack. Even when he ended up being WinterWatcher, which was an unrealistic coincidence now that I think back... but even then, I didn’t connect the dots.

I wrap my arms around myself, trying to stop shaking. The house feels different now, tainted by the knowledge that Jack has been watching me for years. Every window, every corner suddenly seems sinister.

He was watching. Has always been watching.

Oh Jesus... why in the fuck did my pussy contract at the thought? I’m sick. Yes, that’s the only explanation. I shake my head, disgusted with myself. How can I feel anything but revulsion after what Jack’s done?

This isn’t sexy, Chloe! This isn’t the sexy, consensual kind of watching my subscribers do.

My subscribers! Fuck. I run to my laptop and open it up to Dark Secrets. Between Tyler discovering my secret account and my job being on the line, and now Jack—I can’t delete my account fast enough. I frantically log into Dark Secrets, my fingers feeling as if they are pieces of lead as I navigate to my account settings. My safe space, my outlet for the thoughts and feelings I couldn’t share anywhere else. Except it wasn’t safe at all. Jack had been there too, watching, reading my most intimate confessions. The familiar interface that once brought me such excitement now fills me with dread.

My mind races back through our interactions, analyzing every word, every touch. Was any of it real? Or was it all part of his obsession, his invented idea of me?

I pace the house, checking and rechecking the locks. The cat I let in earlier watches me with wary eyes, sensing my distress. I wish I could be as oblivious as it is, curled up on the couch without a care in the world.

As the night wears on, exhaustion begins to set in, but I can’t bring myself to sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see Jack’s face, hear his voice explaining how he’s been watching me since the night of the accident.

The accident. My parents. A fresh wave of grief stabs at my heart as I remember that night. How could I have forgotten the firefighter who pulled me from the wreckage? Was the trauma so severe that it blocked out that memory, or was Jack lying about that too?

I curl up on the couch, pulling a blanket tightly around me. The Christmas lights outside cast eerie shadows on the walls, and I consider unplugging them. But the thought of going outside, even for a moment, terrifies me.

My phone buzzes, and I flinch. Reluctantly, I retrieve it from where I threw it. I prepare myself for a long apology text from Jack but instead it’s a text from Tyler.

Fuck.

I stare at Tyler’s name on my phone screen, my stomach churning. With everything that’s happened with Jack, I’d almost forgotten about the other crisis looming over me. I take a deep breath and open the message.

Chloe, we need to talk. Meet me at the office in an hour. This is not a request.

I might pass out. My ears ring in warning. Tyler knows. He really knows. And now he wants to meet. Is this it? Am I about to lose my job on top of everything else?

I type out a response with fumbling fingers. It’s late and snowing really hard here. Any way this can wait until tomorrow?

I wait anxiously for Tyler’s reply, hoping against hope that he’ll agree to postpone this dreaded meeting. But my phone buzzes almost immediately with his response:

This can’t wait. I’ll send a car for you. Be ready in thirty minutes.

My heart sinks. There’s no escaping this confrontation. I glance out the window at the swirling snow, then back at my phone. The thought of leaving the safety of my house terrifies me, but the prospect of losing my job is equally frightening. I try to call Sloane but don’t get an answer, so text her as well. Nothing. She wasn’t planning on dealing with this until tomorrow. But clearly Tyler doesn’t want to wait until then. And who knows what he’ll do if I don’t show?

With shaking hands, I start to get ready. I change into more professional attire, trying to project an air of confidence I certainly don’t feel. As I apply a touch of makeup, I catch sight of my reflection in the mirror. The woman staring back at me looks haunted, her eyes wide with what appears to be fear and uncertainty.

The sound of a car horn outside makes me jump. I peer through the curtains to see a sleek black town car idling in my driveway, its headlights cutting through the falling snow.

Taking a deep breath, I grab my coat and purse. I hesitate at the door, my hand on the knob. Part of me wants to barricade myself inside, to hide from the world and all its complications. But I know I can’t. I have to face this. Stick with the plan that I made with Sloane. It’s my only shot.

As I step outside, the icy wind whips at my face. I hurry to the car, my feet crunching through the fresh snow. The driver, a stoic-faced man in a dark suit, opens the door for me without a word.

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