Page 78 of Haunt Me

He’s very strict.

Yes, I know.

He has his reasons. He wants to protect me. Everything he does, it’s… it’s not without reason.

Reasons. I wait for her to type something, but her dots stop moving.Religious?I ask, giving her an opening in case she wants to say more.

You could say that.

The dots stop. She’s not typing anymore. I guess she doesn’t want to say more. The next instant, our whole chat has disappeared. Deleted.

…

After that, she texts me more frequently. I think that she realizes she needs me too. Maybe not as desperately as I need her, but maybe a little. I’ll take a little over nothing at all.

And in the end, that’s what will give us away. Of course, I don’t know that yet, I don’t even suspect what is going on with her and she… she has no idea how phones work, how visible everything you do on the phone is. She has no idea how the world works.

Ihave no idea how the world works either, yet.

I don’t know that she is being held a prisoner in that man’s house. At this point, I don’t know what kind of a monster he is; I still think he is her father.

And, more importantly, so does she.

…

One day, out of the blue, she texts me:

Will you meet any girls there? Any, you know, normal girls?

I’m on a beach in Nice, lying on a chair like a corpse.

I sit up and nod slightly so that my sunglasses drop from my forehead to my eyes. Everything around me turns sepia. James is sprawled on a lounge chair next to me, holding court with at least seven girls, all of them too old for him. He is laughing, flirting, teasing them, basking in the adoration. They touch him with their toned, tanned hands, inching closer and closer to his body. He lets them.

I bet none of them suspects for a second that he was having a panic attack in his sleep last night.

Two of the girls keep stealing glances towards me. One of them arches her lithe body my way, showing off her light blue bikini. I turn my back on them.

Normal how?I type.

You know, normal as in knowing where to cross the street.

I shiver. James turns to shoot me a look of worry.That’s not funny, Eden.

I wasn’t trying to be funny.

What were you trying to be?

Not jealous.

I almost drop the phone on the sand. Did she just type ‘jealous’? I read her text again. If you knew how absolutely happy that makes me right now, Eden, you… You have no idea.

The dots aren’t moving. What is going on? I slide to the edge of my seat, sudden fear gripping my chest. The sea is sparkling two feet away. It’s six in the afternoon.

Eden?

Nothing.

Please reply to my text, or I swear, I’m calling you without even calculating the time difference from here to Massachusetts.

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