Then:
Forget this number. Forget this conversation.
You are being watched.
Do not trust anyone from my world until I tell you to.
Not Victor. Not anyone.
Please listen to me.
A sound escaped me. Not quite a gasp. Not quite a sob.
My chest felt too small for my lungs.
This couldn’t be real.
Nicholas was dead.
I had seen the casket lowered.
I had signed papers.
I had spent half a year talking to marble.
And yet.
Please listen to me.
He always said please like it cost him something. Like the word offended him but he’d use it if it meant I might obey.
I flew out of bed and checked every lock in the apartment. Deadbolt. Chain. Back window. Front window. The small bathroom window no one could fit through anyway. My own reflection in the glass looked pale and haunted.
My phone buzzed again.
Do not turn on lights in the front room.
I froze.
Then, very slowly, I stepped away from the living room window.
Someone really was watching.
I swallowed hard and typed with numb fingers.
If this is you, prove it.
The answer came at once.
You broke the mug I gave you two weeks after we met because you were angry I sent men to follow you home.
You cried afterward because it had your mother’s favorite color on it.
I glued the handle back together while you slept and put it on the kitchen shelf before you woke up.
I sank onto the edge of the couch.
Nobody knew that.
Not Jenna.
Not Victor.
Not anyone.
My eyes filled so fast the room blurred.
Nick.
No response.
Then:
I’m alive.
And I’m sorry.
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