Page 22 of Envy

And then there’s the part of me that can’t end her without me in it.

After we ate,I was glad the guys from Ohio took the hint. I don’t know what came over Garret or why he decided to order me so much food. How did he know I would love a strawberry shake?

I lean my head back and stare at the stars twinkling on the black ceiling of his car. I didn’t think cars were equipped with stars on the ceiling. It’s dark but alive at the same time—beautiful with minimal light.

“They come with the car,” he says, as if he’s reading my thoughts.

I look out the window instead, watching my dorm building flash by. “Where are you taking me?”

“I need to stop at my house first,” he replies, as if he’s just going to sleep over.

“You could drop me off, so you don’t have to go back,” I reason, trying to hide the panic threatening to rise in my stomach.

I don’t want to go to his house, where it smells like him. Where I know what his sheets feel like, only to see them gone. Where I remember him bathing me and shaving me bare, where he told me I was disgusting.

He doesn’t respond, and it enrages me further, but I don’t push. I’m afraid he’ll snap.

He pulls into his driveway, and the garage door automatically opens to reveal a row of cars I’ve heard people talk about aroundJohn, like their precious collectibles. Different makes and models, but all share the same color: black. There are at least five or six, including the one we’re in. He parks in the empty spot and shuts off the car.

He closes the garage, and I watch through the rearview mirror with horror as it descends like a trapdoor.

“Get out,” he says, his voice a deep whisper that sends goosebumps erupting across my skin.

I do as he says, taking my bag and following him inside.

A shiver runs down my spine. What would John do to me if he found out? How would I survive his jealous wrath? “How long is this going to take? I have class tomorrow.”

He looks over his shoulder, and the intense look in his eyes makes me shudder. “As long as it takes.” His words float above me like dust in the late afternoon sun, with nowhere to go.

I walk to the couch in the living room and sit, avoiding the hallway he disappeared into. His house is grand and opulent like John and Mary’s, but decorated differently. I can tell things have been removed and replaced. There’s a cream and red chair that Mary would have picked out, with giant black letters spray-painted across it that read, CUNT.

Anyone could tell a man lives here. The rest of the furniture is black and gold. It looks Italian—modern, with a mix of traditional pieces like gilded mirrors and frames on the walls. Italian chairs surround a large rug with the same baroque details as the sheets in the room.

The rich black leather couch is modern yet comfortable. I take a deep breath, and a sense of calm washes over me. I can see myself in a house like this, with a man who loves me—sitting right in this exact spot, reading a book and waiting for my husband to come home from work to kiss me. A fairytale I could get lost in.

I wake up with a jolt and a shuddering sob. I look around and remember I’m not in my dorm. The smell of cinnamon teases my nose. The room spins, and I blink rapidly, hoping it will stop. I clutch my stomach, telling myself I’m safe and that I fell asleep, but then I remember that I’m in Garret’s house, and he never took me back to my dorm.

He disappeared.

It’s dark except for the light from the glowing flames of the electric fireplace. I grip the sheet covering my body and notice it’s the same one from that night.

“Do you always cry when you sleep?” My heart threatens to burst out of my chest. I wipe the tears off my cheeks with a clammy hand.

Garret is sitting in a single chair deep in the shadows, watching me.

Studying me.

“What time is it?” I ask, my throat raw.

“A little after one a.m.”

The last thing I want to tell him is about my nightmares. I pull the sheet away. “It’s really late. I should be heading back.”

“I didn’t want to wake you,” he says, as if he cares.

“So you watched me sleep?”

He gets up, and I try not to cower when he walks toward me. “Come,” he says, then turns around, heading down the same hallway he disappeared from, illuminated by long black modern sconces on the wall.

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