Page 98 of Burn

That… can’t be right.

I go back to the first page of items, and my heart pounds wildly in my chest as I trace my finger down the list. At some point, my brain stops absorbing what I’m seeing, and I let out a frustrated sob as I go back and start again. I shoot to my feet, and Millie mews her annoyance with my rapid movement. I pace as I move through the pages.

On my third pass, I see it.

Security Monitoring Device – Peephole Style

The list slides from my hands, scattering to the floor. Icy fear washes over my body, and my hands start to shake.

It has to be wrong.

Who the hell could have installed cameras?

My mind swirls, and I start to doubt myself. Doubt that I read what I read, so I drop to my hands and knees, desperately searching through the pages until I first find the list with the peephole camera, and then finally the bedroom wall camera.

Sitting back on my heels, my hands in front of me with one sheet in each, I wait for the fear to hit me. I wait to fall apart. After a while, sitting here in shock, I accept that it’s not coming.

I’m not afraid.

I’m livid.

I’m also not confused. I don’t need to ponder who the fuck installed hidden goddamn cameras in my condo, because I know.

Somehow, I convinced myself there was safety in his darkness, but he was honest from the beginning. His deep, dangerous voice echoes in my mind,‘You walked straight into the dark with a man you don’t even know, and I could kill you so easily.’

I trusted him with my body, my soul, my darkest parts. I swallowed his fucking cum, and he told me exactly who the fuck he is again and again.

‘I’ll gladly play the villain in your story.’

And I mistook the beast’s growl for a lullaby.

Scream

Adrian

“Adrian!” the barista calls.

I step up to the counter to collect my order: two coffees —a small black coffee for myself and a sweet, sugary concoction for Lex. The barista hands me the drinks, letting her eyes sweep slowly over my frame.

“Thanks,” I mutter.

I woke up this morning and was immediately disappointed to find a blank phone screen, and now I’m delaying going home, anxiety twisting deep inside of me. I step out of the coffee shop and into the gloomy morning. The sky is dark, blanketed by a thick, heavy cloud cover that threatens rain. The air carries the scent of rain, a rich and distinctly earthy aroma that masks the usual grimy smell of the downtown core.

As I walk back to the apartment, I recheck my phone.

Nothing.

I’m not ready to face whatever’s at home, so I take a slight detour and walk past Lex’s apartment. I’ve done this a couple of times a week, wanting to check the progress on the repairs from the fire. In the last week, most of the service vans that lined the streets have disappeared, and from the outside, everything looks normal. If one hadn’t known the fire, they’d never know it now. The exterior bricks have been cleaned, balconies have been replaced or repainted, and new windows have been installed on the upper floors.

As the first drops of rain fall, the energy in the atmosphere shifts, replacing the earthy mineral scent with something sharp and almost metallic — the smell of the incoming storm. I takeone more deep breath as I reach for the entrance to my building and force myself inside.

The usually slow elevator feels like it’s on lightning speed, and I curse it when the doors slide open on my floor.

Couldn’t have gotten stuck and trapped me inside, huh?

I don’t know why I’m so nervous. She probably had a busy day at work, and maybe went out for dinner with a friend, or fell asleep, or…

I’m also not sure why I’m creating scenarios in my head. It does nothing to quell my nerves and reaffirms that something is screaming at me that things aren’t right. Something is wrong, and somehow, I know it’s not a safety issue — I feel like I’m walking into a fight.

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