Page 103 of Encounter

I have no reason to doubt Chast.

“Right,” I said when Kitty got my attention by jumping on the couch and giving me an unsettlingly human, judgy look. I had to put myself together. There wasn’t much I could do, so I decided to do the only thing I could—clean Chast’s flat up a bit.

After he woke up, he surely wouldn’t be able to do many things with all those stitches. Shuddering at the memory, I made my way toward the tiny room next to the balcony door where his washing machine was—together with some cleaning stuff, Kitty’s litter box, and a lot of random crap. Even though I never cleaned much at home—it wasn't much of alivingspace, more like four walls with some places to sleep—I always enjoyed it. It calmed me.

With cleaning essentials in hand, I tackled the kitchen first. After a few minutes, it probably looked even better than when Chast moved in.

Next, I tidied up the living room—picking up all the empty boxes, papers fallen under the couch, fluffing up the pillows. I already wiped up the blood and disposed of the medical bits from before at night when I couldn’t sleep, but I went over to the dining table once again because it still felt like there were some stains. I changed Kitty’s litter too.

Even after all that, I found myself back in front of the desk. Staring at that date, at my birth date on that paper.

What does it mean? Why—

Half-considering doing the laundry to divert my attention, I was saved by Chast stumbling his way out of the bedroom. Like I hadn't truly expected him to ever recover and stand back at his feet, I stared at him while his disgruntled, tired face told me he was aching, but very much alive.

His eyes fixated behind me, forcing my heart to skip a beat.

I moved the papers a little to see the form. Did he notice?

“Y-You’re up!” I blurted out, trying to seem inconspicuous, but probably turned out looking as panicked as I felt. “I made you breakfast! Sit!” Pointing at the table, I nearly ran to the kitchen, beating myself up over it in my head.

He totally knows something is up now.

Thankfully, Chast didn’t seem to have it in him to argue. Sighing and shuffling his feet, he sat while I put the microwave on. Stopping myself from anxiously tapping my fingers on the counter as it heated up, I tried to ignore his stare on my back.

I didn’t even know what I was freaking out about so much.

When I placed the plate in front of him, Chast flashed me a thankful smile, but glanced to his left at the desk before he started eating.

He knows. Knows... what?

“A man gets stabbed and you don’t even wait for the body to get cold to start goin’ through his things,” Chast noted, chuckling, but there was some seriousness to his tone that scared me. “I’m jokin’,” he added, probably because of my reaction.

No matter how much I tried, I couldn’t calm myself. My fingers twitched in my lap against my will and barely held my leg from tapping the floor.

“What is it?” he asked, his voice lowered. Fearful, I gulped and refused to meet his gaze, even though I felt it urging me. When I wouldn’t respond, he sighed deeply and rested his hands beside the plate, clearly not willing to simply let this go. “Do it.”

Frowning, I carefully looked up. “What?”

“Ask. You clearly want to ask something.” His brown eyes had an unsettling mix of emotions in them. I couldn’t see if he was frustrated or not under his beard.

Was he talking about that paper? Was he talking about it, or was I completely freaking out for no reason?

“I—” Closing my eyes, I pressed my fingers into my thigh and exhaled with my head hung low. What came out barely sounded like words, muffled by a scoff. Shaking my head, I kept my eyes glued to the wooden floor, finding the faded blood stains, or maybe only imagining them there.

Should I tell him about my plan to have sex with him when I came? No. It’s stupid. Should I ask about the file? God, I can’t even keep my thoughts straight.

The dead silence made my accelerating heartbeat even louder. He didn’t press further for me to talk. It wasn’t like Chast to keep quiet like that—it made me panicky.

Finally mustering the courage to look up at him, I found his face twisted into a tortured expression. His fist held closed at the table, he took deep breaths and darted his eyes over the floor.

Why isn’t he saying anything?

“You umm... I faintly heard you and Gregory talking,” he murmured, throwing me off even more by how hesitant and careful he was.

I nodded, pressing my lips into a straight line.

“Did he tell you— Whatdidhe tell you?”

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