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But I can’t stay in the shower forever. Reluctantly, I turn off the water and step out onto the cold tile floor, quickly wrapping a towel around me. With a heavy heart, I open the bathroom door and return to the harsh reality that awaits me.
As I enter my bedroom, I notice something amiss. My underwear drawer is slightly ajar, its contents disturbed. A sense of dread snakes its way through my chest as I approach the dresser, my eyes fixating on a pair of pale pink panties laid out prominently on top. Picking them up, I realize they’ve been deliberately left for me to find.
My hands shake as I drop the panties; they’re stained with something, God only knows what, and I dread to think.
My gaze shifts to the smashed photo frame nearby. It’s a picture of Gary and me at a work barbecue; our smiles now shattered into countless jagged pieces. Like a lovesick fool, I keep it by my bedside as a projection of what could happen if he ever asked me out.
But the message of the shattered glass is clear, and I can’t escape the gnawing fear that someone has invaded my space, violating the sanctity of my home.
“Ciarán,” I whisper, my voice shaking with anger and terror. “How did you find me?”
He’s taken things too far, crossing a line that can never be uncrossed. My heart hammers in my chest as I try to process the gravity of the situation. What else has he done? What else is he capable of doing?
Taking a deep breath, struggling to steady myself, I need to move and act fast. He could still be here. But there’s no going back now. The fear and desire that have become so entwined with Ciarán are no longer something I can ignore or wish away. They’ve morphed into a malevolent force that devours me.
My heart races, and I can’t shake the feeling of vulnerability that grips me tight. He’s bold, even more dangerous than I could’ve imagined, and the thought of being alone in this house with him lurking somewhere terrifies me.
“Okay, Summer. Stay calm,” I mutter, desperately trying to keep the panic at bay. “Make sure he’s not here.”
With every ounce of courage I can muster, I quickly remove my towel, keeping my eye on the door and in seconds, I’m dressed in my pjs, shoving my phone into the top pocket. Rooting around in my bag, I find the compact umbrella and begin my search. My footsteps are quiet yet deliberate, echoing through the once safe haven of my home. As I move from room to room upstairs, I can almost feel the weight of his obsession bearing down on me, suffocating me.
Checking each corner, my umbrella raised in a pretty crappy defense if he is still here, I force myself to peer into the dark spaces where shadows lurk. My breath comes in short gasps, anticipation and terror intertwining inside my body. The silence is deafening, punctuated only by the pounding of my own heartbeat in my ears.
“Damn it,” I curse under my breath, wishing I could shake the image of him completely infiltrating my life. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”
As I clear each room, I find nothing out of the ordinary aside from my ravaged dresser and broken photo. It’s unsettling to think he could slip in and out so easily, like a phantom haunting my every step.
Downstairs, the rooms remain still and quiet, as if holding their breath. I scan every inch of the space, searching for any sign that he might be there.
I stand in the middle of my living room, feeling more exposed than ever before. I know now that there’s nowhere safe from Ciarán, not even the sanctity of my own home. His interest in me, hisobsession,has become a living, breathing entity that threatens to swallow us.
“One room left.”
Stepping into the kitchen, my heart pounds in my chest. The air feels heavy and oppressive as if it’s thick with his presence. Glancing around cautiously, still on high alert after discovering he’d been in my house, my eyes scan the white countertops.
My breath catches in my throat, and I freeze.
There, on the pristine surface, is Ciarán’s name. Written in...blood? A jagged shard of glass lies next to the grisly message, glinting menacingly in the sunlight. My stomach churns at the sight – a visceral reminder of just how dangerous he is.
“God,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “What have I gotten myself into?”
Fear and panic rise like bile in the back of my throat, threatening to choke me as I take in the gruesome scene before me. This isn’t a game like I’d first thought; Ciarán has taken it way past that. He’s invaded my personal space, leaving behind a chilling reminder of the power he can throw over me.
Needing to break the eerie silence, I clear my throat, shaking off the horror of finding this message here. “Okay, this isn’t so bad, Summer. You can handle this. Some bleach and change the locks. Forget about work and being paid. You will just stay here, locked away for eternity. Good plan.”
My hands tremble as I reach for my phone, unlocking it and snapping a photo of the bloody message. I’ll need one of the panties and the photo frame as well. If things escalate any further, I’ll need proof, and his name is right there in all its gory glory. But deep down, another part of me wonders if any amount of evidence would be enough to protect me from a man like Ciarán. His sense of danger just went up several hundred notches, and now I’m floundering, looking for a life preserver when there is none.
Placing my phone back in my pocket, I have to get this cleaned up. It has to go. Out of sight, and all that. Knowing I’ve checked every inch of my small home, every closet, every corner, first, I need to check the locks. My thoughts race through a thousand different scenarios, each one more terrifying than the last. What does he want from me? What will he do if I don’t give in to his desires? And most importantly, how the hell am I going to get out of this nightmare alive?
But as I stand there, frozen even though I’m trying to move, staring at the bloodstained letters that spell out his name, the fear and panic that have been building finally reach their peak. I can’t deny it any longer: Ciarán is a threat – not just to my heart, but to my life. It’s now fight or flight, and the stubborn bitch inside me refuses to flee. Where will I go? Back to Aunt Margaret? Huge pass. I’d rather take my chances here. And it’s a no to sleeping on Amelia’s couch in her tiny flat. I can’t do that to her, plus I’ll just be inviting Ciarán straight to her door. No, this is ameproblem, and I didn’t survive my parents’ death and cruelty at the hands of my cold aunt for all those years to back down and play the victim now.
“Okay,” I say quietly, steeling myself for the battle ahead. “Bring it on, Ciarán. Let’s see who’s stronger.”
It’s a bold challenge, and I’m kinda glad he wasn’t there to hear it.
“First things first.”
Fueled by adrenaline and a newfound sense of empowerment, I make my way through the house, securing every door and window with fierce determination. The satisfying clicks of the locks and bolts echo through the space, providing a slight sense of security amid chaos.
