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I nodded, watching him escape to handle his business. I heard his voice hit the hall before I shifted my attention back to the photo.
It was so tragic.
I hated that what Wells stated about Ares made sense, things Ares had said and his attitude.
All this definitely didn’t feel like my place to know, and I really didn’t know how happy Ares would be that Wells had shared this information with me. Ares was very protective over his life, guarded.
I returned the photo to the sketchbook, then put it back on the desk where I’d found it. It felt really weird being in here now, but I did wait since Wells had told me to.
I glanced around the room, but my gaze caught on another sketchbook. This one was shoved between several boxes that were stacked, and the only reason I noticed it was because it was open.
And well, the image on the first page.
I could only see the top half of the sketch, but it was enough for me to pull the sketchbook out for a closer look.
But once I did…
It was me. Like I’d been sketched, and the rendering had been full body. I recognized my painting overalls, my hair up in a bun. The realism was spot on.
What?
I turned the page, seeing more of me. There were tiny sketches, three or so little mes in various poses on the page. Nearly all of them had me painting.
Some had me laughing.
I kept turning the pages. There were more and more of myself, and as I continued to flip pages, things somehow managed to get creepier.
There were some of me sleeping. In fact, it was the night I’d fallen asleep when Ares had come over. I was under the blanket I’d put on.
My heart raced, sketches of me eating on the next page. I was at the school and sitting at a lunch table by myself. I was in the hall and at my locker. There were just tons of me living life, but none of this felt flattering.
It felt obsessive.
Toward the end of the sketchbook a folder fell out, and that’s when I stepped back. There weren’t just sketches of me.
There were pictures.
Actual shots were taken of me. Bru and I were mostly in these. They had to have been recent because my brother looked thinner. Some were at school, but others…
Were in my house.
There were photos inside with my brother and me on the couch. They were all from the same angle, our living room. They had timestamps like they were screenshots off a recording.
I was completely fucking shaking at this point. Especially when I looked up. A spot had been left where the sketchbook had been and tucked in it was a DVD. It was labeled two words: Sloane’s House.
Oh my God.
“Why are you in here?”
Ares Mallick stood at the door of his father’s office.
But he didn’t have his eyes on me.
He was looking at what was in my hands, the folder, sketchbook, and some of the photos. He was blinking rapidly, and when our gazes clashed, he stepped forward.
I stepped back. “What is this?”
A swallow flicked his throat.
