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I found the switch, flipped it, and fully closed the door.
I found myself in a small hallway. On my right was a slightly open door, revealing a bathroom, about the same size as the hallway, and in front of me hung a dark-green curtain that tumbled all the way to the floor. I tugged at it, not caring when it fell to the ground, and stepped inside.
Nothing could’ve prepared me for what was in that room.
I just stood there, blinking. Was this some sort of sick joke? But the moment I remembered who I was dealing with, a sarcastic laugh echoed around the room. Never in a million years could I have predicted this—not in my worst nightmares.
My throat was dry, and I felt fatigue wash over me. I didn’t have the strength to push myself forward; instead, I took a small step back and sat down on the cold marble tiles. My heart was beating like crazy, threatening to leap straight out of my chest.
I licked my bottom lip to give it some moisture and simply stared. My hands shook uncontrollably. It was the first time such a feeling had come over me. It hadn’t happened once during all of the catastrophes in my past, not even when I’d taken a life for the first time.
I’d never though that at twenty-four, I could experience a first.
On the wall across from me were all of my academic achievements. From some silly papers I’d done as a freshman at university all the way up to my exams. A copy of my degree was framed, as well as a certificate from when my team won a national volleyball tournament, alongside a copy of the medal I’d received. This was information he shouldn’t have had access to, especially since I’d thrown all of this stuff out long ago.
However, it was the right side that stuck out the most.
It was filled with pictures of me. Some were from the club where we’d met for the first time, whilst others were candid photographs of me out and about. All of them had been taken long before we’d known each other.
I would’ve known if he’d had me on his radar. It was impossible not to.
There were pictures with my deceased mother when I was four, and the most recent pictures of Dominik and me—from last summer—at the birthday celebration of a politician who worked closely with my brother.
I pulled my knees together, hugged them, and rested my head on top of them.
Just when I thought I’d seen it all. A dry laugh escaped my lips. With a sigh, I looked at the wall on the left and found myself completely speechless. And I wasn’t someone who was left speechless often. In fact, this was only the second time it had happened.
The wall used to be as bright as a pearl, but it had been used as a canvas, and all over the vast expanse was me. There were multiple drawings glued to it, oil paintings, and some sketches. However, the closer I looked, the more chills I felt.
Davorin had used chalk for some of his…art. And the piece I was staring at now was a rendering of my naked body. Even with chalk on a fucking wall, he’d managed to replicate it exactly—from the freckle I had underneath my left breast to the butterfly tattoo on my left hip.
My mind went into overdrive, and the knowledge I had on psychopaths resurfaced. There was a clear pattern here, and I was infuriated by how long it had taken me to see it.
All of the pictures had been taken from far away by security cameras, street cameras—none of them had been created by him personally—and that got my mind working.
I stood up and walked slowly towards the middle of the room, where a table with a single chair sat.
All of a sudden, when I drew close to the chair, something inside me snapped. It was a rage that had built over time, fueled by reasons unrelated to Davorin. It was hatred, and it was fury. A man whose face I’d yet to see cared more about me than my family ever had.
Granted, his way of caring was dark and vicious. It was an obsession, and obsessions were never easy to move past. Psychopaths had a tendency to get rid of people who no longer entertained the twisted fantasy they’d developed in their sick minds.
My blood ran cold in my veins, my body freezing at the sudden thought. This game had become far more dangerous than I’d ever thought it could.
Davorin was a psychopath. A dangerous man. A stalker. And his object of obsession was me.
Not a single thing here told me he’d get bored of me eventually. Perhaps he was enthralled by the fact I was from a world similar to his. Perhaps it was the chase that had lured him in so deeply, the fact that he couldn’t have me. Or perhaps it was all of the above, and the answer was too deviant for me to believe it.
The front door closed with a loud slam, and I flinched. My mind had been so preoccupied with Davorin and his wicked personality that I hadn’t registered someone entering.
I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.
He locked the door—I heard the jingle of his key as he removed it from the keyhole. He didn’t say a word, and I blinked, a sudden wave of fear washing over me.
“Snooping around, aren’t we, little lion?” he whispered against my ear then.
Goosebumps broke out all over my body, and I immediately turned around, shocked at how quickly and silently he’d moved.
Words stuck in my throat, and I struggled to get them out. I was terrified of the outcome if I let my tongue run loose. “There isn’t much to snoop around.”
