Page 9 of Like A Moth To A Flame

How many years had it been since I had seen her? Ten? More?

I watched the upstairs light go out and exhaled a sigh of relief. She was safe in bed, away from prying eyes and whispering voices. She was cuddled up beneath her blanket, wrapped in dreams.

She’d left the dining room window unlocked. She hadn’t even bothered to check it. I both praised her and worried for her. If she hadn’t been so careless, I wouldn’t have found a way in, but if I could, so could someone else.

Just the thought had my fists clenching and my heart slamming against my sternum. The thought of anyone’s filthy hands touching her—that would be bad for everyone. She’d be traumatized, I’d catch a charge, and the unlucky bastard would be dead.

My heart pounded in my ears, drowning out all other sounds. But in my mind, I could hear the sound of bones breaking, gasps for air, and the final, breathless silence. The image of a body flashedthrough my mind, lying motionless on the floor. I pictured the shine of a sharp knife, the crimson splatter of fresh blood, and the pale color of lifeless skin. It was a dark and violent thought, a storm cloud of anger, as heavy and oppressive as a sledgehammer striking my consciousness.

I’d have to teach her better.

She didn’t have anyone to protect her, and so she’d have to protect herself.

For now, anyway.

I pulled my hat down low over my eyes and made my way out of the treeline. Careful not to make a sound, I rounded the corner of the house and found the window—third from the back. Still unlocked. Damn it. I’d thought maybe leaving the porch light on and the front door unlocked would be enough of a hint.

Stubborn girl.

I lifted it from the bottom, holding my breath. Once again, it slid open without a sound. With a grunt, I lifted myself on the sill and slid into the dining room, not bothering to shut the window behind me. There was no point. I’d need it to leave, and closing it now would risk too much noise.

I straightened, careful not to even breathe as I listened to the sounds of the house.

There was nothing, aside from the moaning and creaking of a settling old farmhouse. My beautiful moth was asleep in her bed, unaware of what lingered in the darkness, and watched her from the shadows. Right now, it was just me, but that was another lesson I’d have to teach her.

Slowly, I moved out of the dining room and into the foyer, still listening.

Stepping up to the front door, I checked that it was locked and smiled when I found that it was. On a dark stained table near the door, her purse lay forgotten, the keys lying still beside it. Picking it up, I thumbed through it. Wallet, credit cards, a roll of cash, and some crumpled receipts. At the bottom, a lip gloss rolled around. Reaching inside, a small glass bottle touched my fingertips, and I pulled it out.

It was a perfume bottle, small and cylindrical, and even in the darkness, I could see the number forty printed on the front in huge white, swirly print. Popping the cap off, I brought it to my nose and nearly hit the floor. The smell brought me back to that morning when she brushed past me outside the church, and I turned to look at her. It was warm vanilla and sharp musk, with something floral and primal underneath. It was the first thing I noticed when she smiled at me this morning, the golden sunlight filtering through her hair, bouncing off the silver locket around her delicate neck. Her perfect, pouty lips turned up at the edges, her wide blue eyes pulling at something animalistic deep inside me.

Something deep inside of me wanted to wrap my fingers around her neck and squeeze—just enough to hear her whimper.

The thought caused a stirring inside of me that settled in my groin, and I groaned as I replaced her purse on the table.

But no, I couldn’t let that side of me take over. Not with her. She was different. Special. And despite the fury that sometimes clouded my thoughts, the memories of her smile and her laughter kept me grounded.

I tiptoed up the staircase, each step protesting softly under my weight. The hallway was dark, but a sliver of light peeked out from beneath her bedroom door. She was in there. I knew it. My beautiful moth nestled in her cocoon of blankets and dreams.

Part of me wished it would last forever. Another, louder part of me wished I could slide in beside her, wrap her in my arms, and fall asleep right alongside her, but not now.

Not yet.

One day.

I stood silently in the doorway, just watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest and the way her dark, thick eyelashes fluttered along the swell of her freckled porcelain cheeks.

I couldn’t help but linger in the doorway, transfixed by her beauty, even in slumber. The moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over her tousled hair. She looked so peaceful and so vulnerable at the same time. My resolve wavered for a moment, but then I remembered why I was here.

With a heavy heart, I tore my gaze away from her and scanned the room. It was tidy yet cozy, with little trinkets scattered on the dresser and the walls adorned with dream catchers and family photos.

As I moved closer to her bed, a floorboard creaked beneath my weight. My heart skipped a beat as she stirred, mumbling something incoherent. Panic surged through me, but she settled back into sleep without waking. Pulling in a steady breath, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the tiny wireless camera I’d brought.

Gingerly, I placed it on a shelf in her closet, tucked discreetly beneath a pile of clothes, making sure not to disturb anything else.

Out of sight. She’d never know.

With a heavy sigh, I turned from the room, and slowly made my way downstairs, and back to the window.

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