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I took a step closer to the camera, examining it carefully. It was a small, inconspicuous device, almost invisible against the backdrop of the porch awning. But it had been there all along, silently watching and recording my every move.
I felt a strange pull, an inexplicable attraction to the man behind the camera. It was as if my anger had been replaced by a strange sense of connection, a bond that I couldn’t explain. Iknew it was wrong, I knew I was supposed to hate him for what he had done, but I also felt safe. Protected.
No.
This was wrong.
Wrong.
Locke couldn’t just put a camera on my front porch and not expect me to be mad when it was discovered.
Were there other cameras?
Knowing him? Yes.
Was it endearing? Just a man determined to watch over me?
I shook my head, trying to push those thoughts away. This was not normal; this was not healthy. But as I looked back at the camera, I felt a sense of longing, of desire.
I wanted to be seen.
Did he see me?
I reached out and gently touched the camera, as if trying to form a connection through the cold metal casing.
Was he watching now? Was he waiting for this moment? Was he watching to see if I’d take down the red light?
And what if I didn’t?
Would he come?
The thought of him coming to the porch made my heart race with anticipation. I wondered what would happen if he showed up, what he would say or do. Would he be angry with me for not removing the red light bulb?
Would he punish me again?
I shook my head, trying to rid myself of those thoughts. I couldn’t allow myself to be tempted by him any longer, and yet I was.
This was a game to him. I knew it.
Well…
If he wanted a game, I’d play. I peered into the lens and said, “If you want the red light to come down, do it yourself. Otherwise… The Hunt is on.”
Challenge accepted.
I waited for a response as if one would come, my heart pounding in anticipation. The silence was deafening, and I wondered if he was even watching. Maybe I was a fool to believe the camera was even his. Maybe it had been left by the tenants before.
No.
I knew Locke well enough. This was all him. I could smell his scent all over this.
I hopped off the chair, defiantly flipped the red light on, turned and walked into my house, my mind racing with thoughts of what was to come if he didn’t come. What if he didn’t care?
Then I’d have no choice but to participate in The Hunt again.
A risk to teach Locke a lesson that I wasn’t some naive little girl.
I couldn’t let him continue to invade my privacy, to watch me like some sort of sick voyeur without there being consequences. But at the same time, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of excitement building inside of me.
