Page 4 of Fright Night
His touch roves over my ass to where my legs are slightly spread. He pauses, the masked face tipping towards the phone. I get the sense he’s smiling behind the mask, which sends my heart skyrocketing.Smilingwhen he’s violating my peace and safety.
He’s a stranger who breaks into homes without being noticed—or at least mine. It’s clear this person has no morals, which makes bile fill my throat at the presumption of what his hand is about to do between my legs, violating me in a way no woman ever should be.
Instead, he clings to some decency and moves away.
Interesting.So that’s his limit. My breaths smooth out a bit.
He reaches for his jeans and any sense ofbetteris obliterated by the sound of the button undoing and zipper being slid down.
“He isn’t…?”
This is when I should stop watching and not endure this for longer. When it’d be sensible to lock the phone and take the video straight to the police.
Instead, I bring the device closer to my face, observing the horrifying moment of the stranger palming his cock.
He is.
This is sick.
My free hand resting on my knee clenches in a fist, like the one he has around himself.Look away, look away, look away!I need to stop watching. Shouldn’t feed into whatever this is.
This is…vile.
Right?
He strokes himself faster, making me a voyeur to his pleasure. His head tips back, which reveals a strip of skin beneath the mask. From the shadowy recording, he appears pale, though that tells me nothing about his identity. His neck flexes the closer his orgasm nears.
My thighs clench together. For every disgusting reason this video should get deleted and this entire thing seared from my mind, I bring the phone closer. My attention can’t decide what to focus on more: his masked face or his cock.
So much of the recording remains in the dark still, the moonlight from the window only doing so much, coupled with the distance he stands, making any other identifying features impossible to guess.
Which is good. This shouldn’t make me feel anything but terror and rage towards the stranger who broke into my home to—what? Jack off over me? For what possible purpose? Because this person gets off by means of illegal acts that creep out innocent women.
Amidst the silence of my room in both the video and this instant, a low moan breaks through. Noises my sleeping figure doesn’t pick up. His hand moves faster and there’s a final moan before cum streaks from his cock and onto my back.
His cum. Hisfucking cumis dried on my skin?
Standing, phone in hand to continue watching, I rush across my room to the floor-length mirror propped in the corner, twisting this way and that to see behind me better, finding it nearly impossible when also trying to finish watching the video and determine what other sick horrors he’s done.
The masked man brings his head upright, staring into the camera. I imagine him grinning again, like that sewn lit-up smile, and feeling victorious over desecrating me the way he had.He tucks himself away and zips up his pants before leaning over my form.
He traces something on my skin, which isn’t made clear. I rewind three times, slowing the recording on the third review until making out what he’s drawing.
T. R. I. C.
The rest of the word is predictable and my deduction, which Iknowdeep down to be correct, makes my stomach sink and terror clamp hold on my nerves.
K. S. T. E. R.That’s the rest.
Trickster.
There’s only one person who’s ever called me that. Hell, hegaveme that nickname.
Knox.
My stepbrother, who got arrested and sent away.
He’s back. He’shere.
