Page 124 of Sins of the Hidden

Not if she wanted everyone to die. I shook my head standing up, chair legs scraping against hardwood with a sound like fingernails on a chalkboard. "He's not the sharing type."

She chuckled as we walked over to the door, her heels clicking a staccato rhythm against the floor before walking out the door. “I’ll see you next week, honey.”

The road stretched ahead as I drove away from Daphne’s, empty and endless, heat waves rising from the asphalt, making it shimmer like a mirage.

I fully expected V to be home like he always was when I got done with class or baking deliveries. Opening the door to our apartment the lights were off, shadows pooling in corners where he usually stood.

The keys clattered into the bowl by the door, the clock on the wall ticking too loudly. The silence wasn't peaceful. Grinding my teeth, I dug my nails into my palms until they stung, small crescent moons of pain to ground me.

Why couldn't I let villains stay villains?

He hurtme.

He betrayedme.

I didn't owe him anything.

So why did I feel so guilty?

Because you're a people pleaser, Oakley. You'd rather bleed out with a smile than admit someone is hurting you.

The faint tapping sound began and my heart stuttered, a missed beat that left me lightheaded. I forced myself to ignore it, instead grabbing my unfinished book, letting the words pull me under, the fictional world swallowing me whole.

That was how people died in horror movies–but my life was one.

Everything was fine–

Until the power cut off.

My body jerked back instinctively, heart slamming against my ribs hard enough to bruise.

I hated the dark. Not just fear—madness-level terror. Furniture warped into threats, shadows bloated into things with teeth.

A soft rustle from the living room sliced through the quiet. Then another against furniture. The unmistakable creak of weight on floorboards, aged wood protesting beneath deliberate, measured steps that paused.

A moment of deathly quiet.

Then breathing that wasn’t mine.

My stomach plunged into freefall before my brain fully registered the danger. Approaching footsteps slithered through the apartment. My hand reached blindly for the wall, fingers spread wide and desperate, gasping at air. My legs turned to water beneath me, seemingly dissolved by terror, leaving only trembling muscles unable to support my weight. Panic surged. Clumsy fingers scrambled for my phone, throat tightening like it might blow, every heartbeat a hammer strike. I strained to listen past the thunderous drumming in my ears.

On shaking legs, I crept toward the bathroom, the only room with a lock and no windows. Each step felt like walking through quicksand, my muscles tight with the effort to remain silent, floorboards threatening to betray me with every shift of weight. I locked the door behind me—a frail barrier between my body and whatever waited outside. Rushing to the tub, pressing my back to the cold tile trying to control my frantic breathing.

My fingers found V's contact before my brain caught up, muscle memory betraying conscious thought like a body turning toward its abuser for comfort. The screen illuminates my face. I should call the cops, my father, 911.

But my fingers didn’t dial any of them.

The phone connected halfway through the first ring."Oakley?"

"S-Someone broke in." I couldn't mask the terror that fractured my voice.

A door slammed, then rushing wind."Stay on the phone."

"O-Okay." My hands shook so badly that the phone kept sliding against my face, slick with tears.

"Where are you?"

"I-I..." I wedged myself deeper into the bathtub, shower curtain pulled closed. My knees pressed into my chest. "Bathroom. Tub."

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