Page 65 of Wicked Little Nightmare

“Yeah, that’s just cuz I’m amazing at sucking dick.” I winked, sticking my tongue out and loving how his eyes darkened. I flounced and turned, walking to the side of the house, motioning for Cam to follow.

We crept towards the back door, sticking to the shadows. Every snapping twig was loud in the eerie silence. My hands trembled with excitement and something darker, more primal.

"She couldn’t have actually just skipped town.” I murmured. “Who the fuck does that?”

Cam shrugged, his face a mask of concentration as he worked on the lock. "Maybe. Or maybe she's in the house next door setting up for a new kid. I dunno."

The lock clicked open. We exchanged a look — this was it. Whatever waited inside, there was no going back now.

"Ladies first," Cam smirked, gesturing to the door.

I rolled my eyes but couldn't help the rush of affection. Even facing potential disaster, he could still make me smile. "My hero," I drawled, then slipped inside, knife at the ready.

The house was pitch black, the air stale and oppressive. Every instinct screamed danger, but I pushed forward.Who fucking knows, maybe the bitch booby trapped it for us. I’d love to see the day.

"Watch your step," Cam whispered, close behind me. "And for fuck's sake, don't touch anything you don’t absolutely need to touch. I keep fucking forgetting to grab gloves like some novice serial killer."

I nodded, though he probably couldn't see it. My fingers twitched, itching to explore, to uncover secrets. But Cam was right… we couldn't afford to leave any traces.

As we moved deeper into the house, a chill ran down my spine. What if this was all a set-up? What if Janine was watching us right now, waiting to spring her own twisted game?

I shook off the paranoia. No time for that shit now. We had a job to do, and I'd be damned if I let a little fear get in the way.

"You take the upstairs," I breathed to Cam. "I'll sweep down here."

He hesitated, clearly not wanting to split up. But efficiency won out. With a curt nod, he headed for the stairs, leaving me alone in the suffocating darkness.

My heart settled as I crept through the living room, each step calculated. The beam of my flashlight cut through the darkness, revealing layers of dust and neglect. On the mantle was one single photo. Janine holding a baby.

I rifled through drawers, flipped through old mail, searching for anything that might explain the gaping holes in my memory. Nothing. Fucking nothing.

My frustration mounted with each empty cupboard and barren shelf. Where were the answers I needed? The clock was ticking, and I could feel the weight of urgency pressing down on me.

"Lakey," Cam's low voice startled me. He appeared in the doorway, his face a mask of tension. "Found something. Study. Now."

I followed him, my skin prickling with anticipation. The study was a mess of papers and overturned furniture. Cam pointed to an open drawer, barely visible behind a fallen bookshelf.

"Look," he said, his tone uncharacteristically soft.

I peered inside, my breath catching in my throat. Adoption records. My hands trembled as I lifted the papers, scanning the dates. They aligned perfectly with the blank spaces in my mind, the lost time I'd never been able to recover.

"Holy shit," I whispered, my voice cracking. "Cam, what the fuck does this mean?"

He didn't answer, just watched me with those dark, inscrutable eyes. I felt like I was falling, drowning in implications I couldn't — wouldn't — face.

"We need to get out of here," Cam said, snapping me back to reality. "Now." He pointed to the top right corner of the ceiling, a red light blinking obnoxiously at us.

So, it was a set-up.

I nodded, numb, clutching the papers to my chest. Whatever these records meant, whatever twisted truth they held, I knew one thing for certain: nothing would ever be the same again.

Cam led me out of the study and back down the hall. The sound of multiple cars racing down the street should have alerted me something was about to happen, but I couldn’t think,could barely move through the haze that had descended on my mind.

I was reeling, struggling to process the bombshell I'd just uncovered. The little girl, the one I'd seen in those photos... could she actually be mine? My fucking daughter? If it was true, it would confirm my suspicions. My draw towards her. The need for me to constantly see her, to make sure she was okay. The thought sent a shockwave through my system. Feelings I’d never felt caught me by the throat, trying to strangle me as my system tried to process what they were. Fear? No… Pride? No…

"I don't... I can't..." I stammered, my eyes darting wildly around the house. "Cam, what if she's... what if I..."

My throat closed up, choking on words I couldn't bring myself to say. I'd done some seriously fucked up shit in my life, but this? This was a whole new level of mindfuck.

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