Page 126 of Fixation
Where I’m clean.
Of course I went against his orders. Of course I scrubbed him off me.
My skin hums when I imagine him there, waiting to punish me.
I shake my head. Push a strand of hair behind my ear.
Seeking his approval is insane.
It’s unstoppable.
He latched on like a parasite, and now he’s inside me. Everywhere.
The sun hasn’t risen yet. The pink and orange hues of dusk should arrive in about an hour or so.
The wise thing to do would be to pull my blanket over my head. Play some white noise on my phone. Give sleep a shot.
I’ll try, and I’ll fail.
Better put this restless energy to good use. To work.
The dark summer collection I’ve been sketching and working on waits for me in the back of my head.
The one that’s inspired by my stalker.
“Let’s go,” I murmur to myself.
My rug is soft beneath my feet as I roll out of bed. I run my fingers through my hair, which has dried since the shower.
There’s nothing to do about the knots, so I twist my hair into a messy bun.
A loose strand dangles in front of my eye, and I brush it behind my ear. I groan, resenting the ghost of Anderson’s finger. Missing it.
I drop my hand, then cross my arms over my chest.
The encounter with Anderson has left me sensitive. The feel of my night shorts brushing the tops of my thighs, my white matching top moving along my peaked nipples…it’s a lot.
I have to get out of here. To create.
Then why do I gravitate toward the wall that’s connecting our houses?
Why does my hand flatten on it like I’ll feel him on the other side?
I’m a fool. A reckless girl in love with the devil.
As if I’m being chased, I sprint out of my room, and instead of going to my studio, I race down the stairs. Away from him, the source of my panic.
When I reach the first floor, I put my hand over my chest. Breathe in. Breathe out.
“You’re fine,” I whisper. “Absolutely fine.”
Except I’m far from being fine. I’m talking to myself, for fuck’s sake.
But since I’m pretending that I am—otherwise, I’d lose it for real—I head toward the kitchen.
And stop dead in my tracks in the foyer.
There’s someone outside my door.
