Page 3 of Hide From Me

“Don’t let it happen again,” she hums.

“And if I do?”

Her perfectly red-painted lips part, but nothing comes out. Instead, she narrows her eyes and turns on her heel, leaving nothing but the smell of lemons to linger in my space.

Even if she’s out of sight, slipping through a swinging wood door into the kitchen, there’s no way I can get her out of my mind. There's so much darkness around her–it's in the makeup she wears, the grumpy frown on her lips, and even the way she speaks, yet it's like she's beaming. It's so different from everyone around me. For once, I’m not questioning every move I made today, nor am I lost in the chaos of my life. She’s the definition of a dream come true, and I don’t intend for this to be the last moment I get to enjoy her.

My little ray of sunshine might be right because I fully intend to become the monster lurking under her bed.

One

Moe

09-02-2025

Caspian's House

I've been home for a few hours at most, but I'm already itching to be on the move again.

Of course, no one would understand because, unlike them, I'm not open about what happens in my life. You can blame it on a lifetime filled with secrets and letdowns, but I prefer to think of it as simply being a private man.

“I’m glad you made it,” Caspian beams, playfully nudging my shoulder. He looks more put-together than the last time I was home, with his peppered brown hair slicked back and crow's feet forming at the corners of his green eyes, which soften the frown lines etched into his forehead.

“Congratulations, Cas,” I smile, though it's not entirely noticeable.

“Yeah, it's about time,” Sam grumbles.

"When's the damn wedding? I’m ready to show off my moves,” I joke, following closely behind Caspian as he leads us through the house he built for himself and Cordelia, letting out an over dramatic sigh. It’s disgustingly nice, with navy blue accents and mahogany furniture visible through the archway at the front door leading into the living room.

The staircase is probably my favorite feature so far; it barely protrudes from the wall, with wooden steps and a curved guardrail that directs attention to the massive emerald chandelier hanging in the hallway, which leads toward the dining room. I didn’t have much chance to help him build the place like Sam did during my constant trips, but at least the chandelier was my idea. It was the least I could do to make it feel likehelived here too.

It feels as if the entire purpose of building this house was to cater toher needs, with only hints ofhispersonality scattered throughout. Is it normal for people to live like that? To wait on someone hand and foot to ensure they’re comfortable? I glance back, searching for Sam and his wife, Jasmine, hoping their expressions will reflect my own thoughts, but they’ve disappeared.

I should've known Sam would do this to me.

It’s no secret what I’m wanting to discuss. I’ve been hounding Caspian for a year on this topic, which always ends the same way. He blows up, I bottle up, and we wait a few days to go again. I brush my hand to the back of my neck and take a seat in the spacious dining room, doing my best to avoid Cordelia’s stare. It feels like she can read me better than I can myself, some days.

Fuck Sam for leaving me to do this by myself.

“You said you had business to discuss?” Cordelia grins as she strides around the area, finally looking away. It’s as if this is her first time seeing the area herself. I roll my eyes while no one is looking. I’m sure it is her first time–Caspian probably made this some huge, elaborate surprise for her.

“Uh–” I clear my throat. “Yeah. Look, Cas’, I know how you get when I talk about this, but–”

His hand raises, and I groan, throwing my head back against the chair, looking at him down the bridge of my nose.

“Don’t start,” Caspian grumbles, shifting through a large china cabinet until glasses clank together. He turns back with a cigar tucked firmly between his lips.

I prefer cigarettes, but he doesn’t need to know that. He still sees me as a child, which is why he firmly dismisses anything I say. I've kept my thoughts to myself and understand why he's so determined to keep me safe. I mean, for crying out loud, word spread shortly after that day. The whole base knows now that I’m literally the product of evil. Well, almost a complete product.

When it comes to my father… I don’t know. I want to, though. There’s this insane urge within me to see if my future is already written in stone, destined to be some twisted, broken, chaotic person like everyone says I am. They whisper it when I’m not looking, when Sam isn’t watching, and when Caspian is nowhere around, but I still hear it.

I would have already tracked down my father if I could, but there’s no trace of him anywhere. Even scanning my DNA in a system gave little information, and what I found was what I already knew—I come from a long line of psychopaths.

“Cas’.” I huff, placing my hands in my lap so no one can catch the subtle flex of my fingers under the table.

“No!” He yells, drawing a breath to calm himself before gently placing the cups on the table, “I saidno, Moe. You don’t want to take my position because you’re‘not ready’.So that means you’re not ready for this either.”

I tuck my tongue between my teeth, biting hard enough to taste copper. I don’t want the bloody position because it’s notmineto fucking have.

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