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Sitting up, I look down and blink in disbelief because surely this is just a massive coincidence. I have pajamas just like this.
Jumping up, I head to the closet and open it and then close it again just as quickly before checking it again. Carefully folded and hung in order of color appear to be the contents of my closet from home.
The familiar sight mocks me as I sift through the rails and a cold feeling washes over me. These are my clothes, but how?
Looking through the racks of shoes, opening drawers and trying to take it in, I wonder how the hell the contents of my closet have found their way here?
That’s not all. When I head back into the room, I see various personal effects from my apartment dotted around and even my purse sitting pretty on the table underneath the window.
Quickly, I grab hold of it and check for my phone because this is seriously creepy and I haven’t got a clue what is happening here.
The phone is missing.
Checking again, it’s obvious there is nothing here that can connect me to the outside world. No iPad, no phone. Just everything else.
My make-up, my jewelry and my notebook.
As I stare at the notebook, a cold feeling creeps over me as I open the page with trembling fingers and see the notes I’ve made on the information Colton sent me. I already know Dexter will have seen this and the anxiety almost knocks me senseless because there is so much more than the story about Hunter Blake. There are pages of details about Dexter too. Private stuff that I feel physically sick thinking he read and confidential information about his family, his past and his private life. If I feel anything right now, it’s shame. It’s one thing to write a story but if he sees this, it’s like a personal assault. How would I feel if I saw pages of details of my own life carefully documented to be used against me?
I feel sick and hate myself more than he must right now because I have pushed aside my principles as I pursued my dream, and the person who made it happen was Colton.
Just thinking about my stepbrother creates a different kind of feeling inside me. I always knew there was something not quite right about him. The creepy way his eyes would follow me when I left a room. The way he looked at me as if he could read my mind and the uneasy way he had of appearing out of the shadows when I thought I was alone.
Why is he doing this though, it doesn’t make sense and as my mind struggles to understand that I have been played for some form of personal gain, I absolutely hate how that makes me feel?
