Page 21 of Psychotic Faith
The possession in those words makes me angry and aroused in equal measure. "I'm not yours."
"Your wet fingers say otherwise."
The phone slips from my hand, but it lands face up, and the three dots appear, then materialize into words I can't ignore.
"Little faith, type back or I'm coming over."
The threat and promise in those words make me snatch the phone back up and type furiously. "Don't you dare."
"Then be good and answer me. Did you like it? Knowing I was watching while you fucked yourself thinking of me?"
I throw the phone across the room with all my strength. It hits the wall with a sharp crack, sliding to the floor. The screen stays dark, either broken or simply stunned into silence. But even damaged, even quiet, I know he's still there. Still watching. Still owning pieces of me I didn't know existed.
Tomorrow I'll have to face this new reality. Tonight, I sit in the darkness, my slick fingers proof of my fall, knowing that everything has changed. The Faith who walked into that gala doesn't exist anymore. What's left is his creation: corrupted, claimed, completely destroyed for anyone else.
The apartment settles into silence, just my breathing and the distant sounds of Chicago at night. I should try to sleep. Shouldat least put on clothes. Should do something other than sit here naked under a towel, thinking about pale blue eyes and hands that kill.
From across the room, my phone suddenly buzzes against the floor. The sound makes my heart stop. I crawl across the floor to look at it, the screen cracked but still functional, displaying one message that somehow got through:
"3 a.m. Leave your window unlocked."
My heart stops. The phone screen shows 2:20 a.m.
That's in forty minutes.
I sit on my bed, staring at the window latch. My hand reaches for it three times, pulling back each time. Lock him out, the rational part of my brain screams. Call the police. Run.
But my fingers trace the words on his latest Polaroid. "I understand."
At 2:58 a.m., I make my choice. The latch stays locked. Let him know I'm not as easy to claim as he thinks.
10 - Luca
It is 3:00 a.m. exactly.
My palm presses against the cold window glass, testing. The latch holds firm against my pressure—locked. She fucking locked me out.
The defiance of it cuts deep, sharp and unexpected. Three a.m., exactly when I told her to leave it open, and my little faith has decided to defy me. My cock hardens instantly at the challenge, even as rage floods my system like injected adrenaline.
She read my message. I watched her read it through the cameras, saw her fingers tremble as she processed my command. Watched her walk to this exact window at 2:55 a.m., stand here for thirty seconds, then deliberately turn the lock.
The November wind cuts through my jacket but I barely feel it. All I feel is the locked window under my palm, the barrier she's placed between us. My breath fogs the glass as I lean closer, imagining her on the other side, probably awake, probably listening for me.
I could break it. One sharp strike and I'd be inside, could show her exactly what happens when she denies me. The fantasy makes my pulse pound: her gasping awake to find me standing over her bed, those hazel eyes wide with fear and something darker.
But no. That would be taking. I want her to give. Want her to unlock this window herself, invite the monster in, beg for what only I can give her.
I pull back, studying her apartment through the darkness. Third floor, corner unit. Fire escape on the east side. Seven possible entry points if I wanted to force it. But force isn't what this is about anymore. This is about making her choose me, choose this, choose to let the devil in.
I climb down to street level just as my phone buzzes. Marco: "Where the fuck are you?"
I ignore it. He can wait. The family can wait. Everything can wait while I stand here in the dark, three stories below the woman who dared to lock me out.
Movement in her window. The curtain shifts slightly, and I know she's watching. Good. Let her see what she's denying herself. Let her see what waits for her in the shadows.
I pull out my phone, type one-handed while keeping my eyes on her window.
"Brave little faith, locking out the devil."
