Page 16 of The Devils Melody
I hear footsteps climbing the stairs. I pull Mr. Teddy Bear closer, trying to protect myself from the monster coming after me.
The door to the closet swings open, and I scream.
Ijolt awake, the screams from my nightmare following me into the waking world. I whip my head in every direction, making sureheisn't here.
But I know he isn’t. It's not possible. Mom made sure of that.
Reaching across the bed, I grab Mr. Teddy Bear and clutch him tightly to my chest. He’s the one thing that brings me back to the present and grounds me from all the terrible nightmares that plague me.
You’re alone in your bedroom, Wren. You’re fine. He can't get you here.
Sweat covers every inch of my body. My skin feels tight, as if it’s trying to hold all the fear inside and failing. My sheets are tangled around my legs, clinging to me like a damn spiderweb I just walked into. My hands tremble as I peel the sheets off, trying desperately to ground myself with each inhale of breath.
I haven't had that dream in years, not anything close to that. It was so fucking vivid, it’s almost as if I was there again. Did I scream too loud? I hope no one in the restaurant heard me. Probably thinking a girl is getting murdered up here.
Staring at the ceiling, I run a hand through the tangled mess of my hair. The glow of my phone screenblinks from the nightstand, taunting me with another text from him.
Richard.
His name alone is enough to make my stomach turn. I told myself he didn’t scare me. That he was just some spoiled asshole who didn’t like being told no. But when he grabbed me last night, when his fingers clamped around my arm and he leaned in, all smug and quiet, my body reacted before my brain did.
It was as if I was four years old again. Just a hopeless and scared little girl, cornered and wishing someone would come save her from the monsters that plagued her home.
I hate that he got to me. I hate that his touch woke up ghosts I thought I had long buried. It took years to build up the walls I’ve had firmly cemented in place, and in one touch, one disgusting look, he bulldozed right through them.
I close my eyes and try to shake the image of my mother lying motionless on the floor, blood in her hair. That memory should have faded by now, but trauma never fades. It waits, dormant and patient, ready to rip itself wide open again when you least expect it.
My jaw aches from how hard I’ve been clenching it, it feels like they’re going to shatter from the pressure. I reach for my water bottle, my throat suddenly raw. I gulp it down and press the cool plastic against my cheek. My eyes drift to the sliver of sunlight trying to break through the blinds.
Morning.Damnit.
I grab my phone off my nightstand and check the time.No, afternoon. Fuck.
I’m gonna have to go to work soon. Retta texted me last night before I fell asleep asking if I could cover her lunch shift. I didn’t want to, but I knew she would do it for me if Iasked, so I need to get up. I just have to wash the dread off my skin and pretend like I’m fine, because if I let this fear win or take up any more space than it already has, it’s going to swallow me whole.
Dragging myself out of bed, I peel the sweat drenched tank top off and toss it in the corner. My legs feel like they’re dragging as I attempt to make it to the bathroom. The light is so bright, I have to force my eyes to stay open. I can already feel a migraine start to thrum in my skull.
Staring at my reflection, hollow cheeks and red rimmed eyes gape back at me. I splash cold water on my face, hoping to shock some life back into place.
“You’re fine,” I whisper to my reflection, watching as my lips tremble. “You’re okay. He’s gone.”
My fingers curl around the rim of the sink. I can’t let this break me. Not again.
Connecting to my bluetooth speaker, I play2 Be Loved by Lizzo, as if there was any other way to start my morning routine that isn’t singing at the top of my lungs. I brush my teeth, pull my hair into a messy bun, and slip into my work clothes that are sure to get me some good tips. Tight black jeans, a white cropped tank top—the usual—and layer on mascara, hoping to make my eyes look less haunted. Retta would notice in a heartbeat otherwise.
I consider calling out last minute. Retta’s shift be damned. I’ll just crawl back into bed and let the darkness consume me. But Rich’s texts are still sitting there on my phone, and if I don’t get the fuck out of this apartment now, I’ll start thinking about what might have happened if Kage and Lennox hadn’t shown up last night.
6
Kage
THE EXECUTIONER
The monitor in front of me glows in the dimly lit room, a blinking red dot creeping along the streets. My little bird is driving to work. I lean forward, elbows braced on my knees, watching as her car slows at an intersection before turning right, pulling intoPour Decisions,and parking near the front entrance.
Nox stands behind me, arms crossed, radiating with his usual impatience. “This is fucking stupid,” he mutters. “We have bigger shit to deal with. You shouldn't be holed up here wasting our time. We need to stay focused on our jobs andnoton her.”
I ignore him. The tracker we planted on Wren's car last night as she was driving home was small and undetectable. It’s something we’ve used a dozen times before on targets, but never on someone like her. She’s not a job. She’s something else entirely. Of course I already knew where she lived from following her for so long. Seeing the small restaurant confused me at first, until I realized she lived in the apartment upstairs. But after that douchebag grabbed herlast night, I wanted to make sure I had her exact location at all times.
