Page 54 of Like A Moth To A Flame

“Can you like…” I cleared my throat, fingers shaking as I shoved a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “Say something, or…?”

“What was that?!” she shrieked finally. “Vanessa, you need to call the cops!”

“No!” I said, and it caught me by surprise. It was harsher than I’d meant to, and I just opened my mouth to explain when she continued.

“Who is that?!”

“I don’t know!” I said, and my voice was rising higher and higher, like a balloon full to bursting. “I don’t know who it is! I’ve been trying and trying to—”

“Vanessa, give me that phone.”

“N-no, I don’t want—”

“Come on,I’m serious.” She held her hand out, and the look on her face was sterner than I could ever remember seeing. “I need to hear it one more time.”

“Why?”

“Because I know that voice.”

Reluctantly, I handed her the phone, my hand shaking and my breath coming in soft pants. Why was I so damn nervous?

She hit play, and the video continued where it left off.

“—inside you that you’ll know who you belong to. I’m gonna breed that perfect, tight little pussy. Do you understand?”

She gasped, so loud and so hard that she nearly screamed, and when I looked over at her, her eyes were wide and her hand had clapped across her mouth.

“Oh mygod!”

“What?”

“Oh my fuckinggod, Vanessa!”

“What?!”

“I do know that voice! I know who that is!” Her hand fell from her mouth and her finger repeatedly jabbed at the screen. “It’s Tommy! The firefighter?!”

I felt myself go pale, all the blood rushing from my limbs and towards my organs—fight or flight. No way. No way it could be him.

“No, it’s not!” I said, pushing up onto my knees and reaching for the phone. “Tommy saved me. There is no way in hell he could—”

Unfortunately, her arms were longer than mine, and she was much better at playing keep away.

“Give me that! Gimme the damn phone!”

“Oh wait, you’re right,” Amelia sighed, deflating visibly, and she turned the phone towards me. “Look at his hand.”

“I… see his hand,” I said bashfully, squinting at the screen. No doubt, I could see it. It was around my throat.

“He’s got a tattoo,” she said. “I looked for a ring, remember? Tommy didn’t have a tattoo.”

I looked again, harder this time, and she was right. The hand around my neck was inked—a blue and black watercolor moth laid with harsh black lines and a full moon background.

“Weird,” she said, silencing the phone and handing it back to me with a shrug. Good. She hadn’t gotten to the next part yet.

“That sucks, huh?”

I looked up at her, dumbfounded.

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