I didn't sleep. Every shadow stretched too far, as if the darkness itself was crawling toward me. The air whispered across my skin, cold and teasing, like someone was brushing fingers just beneath the surface. I pulled the blanket tighter. It didn't help.
That voice still haunted me.
"I told you not to scream."
Not a message. Not a dream. A whisper, soft and cruel, against the back of my neck. My heart hadn't stopped racing since.
When sunlight finally broke through the blinds, it sliced the room into gold and black. But light didn't mean safety—it only made the silence feel sharper.
I sat up, my body sore in all the wrong ways. Heat still pulsed low in my belly. I reached for the photo.
Gone.
Panic bloomed. I threw the blanket back and searched: under the mattress, between pillows, drawers—nothing. No trace. It was real. He'd come back. He took it.
I stood slowly, hugging my arms. The closet door was shut, but it felt like something was still in there… watching.
The mirror confirmed what I feared—around my neck, the pendant remained. Cold. Centered. As if placed there, deliberately. I lifted it, watching it shimmer in the morning light. It didn't scare me. It felt right. I clasped it on again.
The bathroom mirror was fogged, though I hadn't turned the water on yet. My reflection was foreign: lips bruised, eyes dark, hair a mess like hands had pulled at it all night.
I dropped the robe. The cold air grazed my bare skin. The shower blasted hot and fast. I stepped in, letting the water punish me. It ran between my breasts, down my stomach, along my thighs. My fingers moved on instinct. But what I found wasn't just needed—it was memory.
I remembered him. The pressure. The power. The way my body obeyed without asking why. I hated that I couldn't forget. I hated that part of me didn't want to.
I stayed until the water ran cold.
Downstairs smelled like cinnamon and sugar. My feet were bare, hair wet. The silence here felt heavier—like the house had seen what I did and was waiting for more.
A plate sat on the counter: pancakes. The syrup is still warm. Beside it, a note, folded clean, in red ink.
"You forgot to smile."
My knees buckled. I gripped the counter for balance.
The doors were locked, but the hallway window was cracked. I hadn't left it that way. My fingers trembled as I touched the note. It smelled like cologne.
His cologne.
The same one I smelled on Caleb's pillow.
I pressed the note to my lips. Why did it make my thighs tighten?
Upstairs—something shifted. Pipes? No. Footsteps.
The kitchen lights flickered once.
I took a bite. Syrup ran down my wrist. I licked it off slowly. Sweet. Sticky. Sinful.
Then Caleb appeared.
Bare chest. Damp hair. Towel around his shoulders. He froze in the doorway, eyes drinking me in.
"Hey," he said, voice low.
"You made these?" I asked.
He nodded. "You didn't come down, so I thought… something sweet?"
I smiled too tightly. My fingers curled around the fork. The note's handwriting wasn't his. He didn't know.
I opened the drawer. Empty? No—something tucked in the back.
A Polaroid.
I jerked my hand away.
He didn't see.
"Thanks," I murmured.
He sat across from me. His eyes dropped again.
"Wearing that again?"
I touched the pendant. "You remembered."
"Hard to forget. You had it on last night, right? When I looked in."
My heart skipped. "You looked in?"
He leaned closer. "The door was cracked. I saw something shiny."
"I thought you said you didn't come in."
He grinned. "Did I?"
The air thinned. I stood abruptly. "I need air."
"Where to?"
"Just… out."
His gaze followed me. "Be careful. You look flushed."
I didn't reply.
The garden path was warm beneath my feet. I walked quickly, branches brushing against my skin. Past the swing. Past the roses. Toward the shed.
The door creaked open.
Inside: dust. Old furniture. And something new.
A mattress.
A pillow.
A half-drunk water bottle.
A photo.
I picked it up, hands shaking. Me. In the shower. Head tilted back. Eyes closed. My mouth parted. Water glistening. Taken through the glass.
On the back: "You looked like you were praying. But I know what you were thinking about."
My legs gave out. I slid down the wall, breathing hard. The scent was here too. Stronger. It clung to everything.
My hand moved between my thighs. I couldn't stop. My body knew what to do. Being watched made it worse. Made it better.
Then—crunch.
Footsteps.
Outside.
The lock clicked.
The door slammed.
Trapped.
A shadow moved across the window.
Then his voice. Deep. Low. Close.
"I told you I wanted to see you smile."
My chest seized. I backed into the corner. A folded note slid under the door. My fingers shook as I picked it up.
"Don't scream. You're going to like this."
I looked up.
A tiny camera blinked red in the corner.
He was watching.
Recording.
And slowly, trembling but sure—
I smiled.
My fingers trembled as I dropped the phone. That voice—deep and knowing—still echoed in my head. Not Daniel. Not Caleb. But too close. Like they were in the room. My heart thudded as I scanned the walls. A creak behind me. I turned. Nothing. But I didn't feel alone.
I sat down, trying to breathe, and checked the call log. Blank. No number. No trace. But it happened. I felt it in my bones. Cold fingers on my neck.
I messaged Caleb. "Are you home?" No reply. "Someone called. Said my name." Still nothing. Was he at the bar? Or playing a game?
I opened my door and peeked out. The hallway light flickered. Daniel's study door—open. He never left it that way.
I stepped inside. Rain blew through the window. Papers everywhere. A photo caught my eye.
It was me. Asleep. Lips parted. Sheets barely covered me.
My stomach dropped. I didn't take that. Who did?
Heart racing, I backed out. Caleb's door was closed. I raised my hand to knock—then froze. What if he wasn't alone?
I turned and went back to my room, clutching the photo like it might burn me.
Inside, I locked the door and stared at it again. It wasn't just me—it was how I looked. Exposed. Someone had been close.
I shoved it into the drawer.
I changed into a nightgown Daniel used to love. I caught my reflection—flushed skin, red lips. I still felt Caleb's touch. My body remembered. My heart hated that it did. I ran my hands over my sides, trying to forget the voice.
In bed, sleep wouldn't come. I twisted beneath the sheets. Thought of Caleb's hands, his breath on my skin. Shame and desire tangled together. My hand slipped under the covers. I bit my lip. I needed—
A thud outside my door.
I froze.
Another sound. A step.
I slid out of bed, tied my robe tight, crept to the door, pressed my ear against it.
Silence.
Then—whispered:
"Sophia…"
The voice. Again. But not from the phone.
From the hallway.
My knees buckled.
I cracked the door.
No one.
But I smelled cologne. Not Daniel's. Not Caleb's.
I stepped out. The air was cold. The floor was icy. The front door downstairs—wide open.
I ran. My robe flared behind me. I slammed it shut and locked it. My hands shook.
I turned—and gasped.
Caleb stood at the base of the stairs, drenched.
"I forgot my key," he said. "Did I scare you?"
I stared. "The door was open."
"I knocked. You didn't answer. Thought you were asleep." His eyes dropped to my robe.
"You didn't call me?"
"No," he said slowly. "Why?"
I didn't answer.
"Something's wrong," I whispered. "Someone was here."
He stepped closer. "Are you okay?"
I shook my head.
He pulled me into his arms. Warm. Solid. I let myself breathe.
"I won't let anything happen to you," he said. His hand slid down my back.
I didn't stop him.
"Stay with me tonight."
"You sure?" He asked
I nodded. "I don't want to be alone."
We climbed the stairs. In my room, I locked the door behind us.
His shirt dropped. My robe slipped. Our eyes met.
No words.
His mouth on my neck. My gown is sliding up. I moaned, arching. The fear made it hotter. The danger, real.
He was kissing my neck. Deep. Slow. The storm matched our rhythm. I clawed at his back. He didn't stop. I didn't want him to.
The phone rang.
We froze.
I grabbed the phone.
I answered.
A whisper:
"Tell him the truth. Or I will."
Silence.
I turned to Caleb.
"Who was it?" he asked.
I opened my mouth to lie—
And the door creaked open.
Daniel stepped inside.