Page 40 of His To Erase
He’s just some stranger who stepped out of the shadows and somehow saw all the way through me. And now I’m haunted by the memory of his mouth.
I force myself up off the couch, dragging my body toward the kitchen. I haven’t eaten all day, unless you count coffee and a bite of someone’s leftover fries.
As soon as I open the fridge to find something to eat, everything goes black. The lights vanish, and the hum of the fridge dies. I blink, frozen for a second, waiting for it to turn right back on like it usually does. Only nothing happens. I listen to see if I can hear anything, but all I hear is silence.
My fingers brush the edge of the drawer where I keep the flashlight, my pulse is a steady war drum in my ears as I try not to go straight to panic mode. I pull it open, slowly, like I’m waiting for something to jump out, grabbing the flashlight. Of course, it’s dead.
I set it on the counter, reaching for my phone to use the flashlight, only to realize I don’t actually know where I put it.
It’s too quiet.
I exhale through my nose, trying to slow my breathing, and turn toward the hallway.
The knock hits so hard and fast it sends me stumbling back. The edge of the coffee table catches my shin as pain flares, sharp and immediate, but I barely register it through the jolt of fear flooding my system. A strangled yelp claws its way up my throat, and I slap a hand over my mouth before it can escape.
I cautiously move toward the door, every step weighted with the kind of dread you only feel when something is deeply wrong. My breath slows, and I press my eye to the peephole. No one’s on the other side.
Then it happens again.
Three sharp, deliberate raps. Only this time… it’s coming from the window.
Everything inside me locks up. My chest tightens, and the blood drains from my face, leaving me cold and weightless all at once. That window leads to the fire escape three stories up. It’s rusted and old—barely anyone uses it. No one should be out there.
I don’t move at first, I just stand there with my pulse hammering, and my heartrate climbing higher with every second that ticks by in silence.
Then—like an idiot—I walk toward it.
My legs feel disconnected from the rest of me, like they’re being dragged by something that doesn’t care if I make it back. The closer I get, the louder my heartbeat becomes.
I reach for the curtain, fingertips trembling, and tug it back—just enough to see that the landing is empty. The metal rails glint faintly in the ambient light from the alley, and the wind creaks through the frame like it’s breathing, but there’s no shadow. No movement. No one waiting in the dark.
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, it’s shaky and uneven, like the fear’s still trapped somewhere in my chest.
Maybe it was debris, or maybe I imagined the whole thing. I slide the curtain back into place and turn away from the window, forcing the air back into my lungs. Which honestly, takes everything in me.
I grab my phone, which is now at 2% battery—and the charger from the floor. Then I open the drawer next to themicrowave and take out the knife I’ve only ever used when I feel like it might help.
I like the weight of it in my hand. It makes me feel like I’d stand a chance if someone came through that door.
The whole building feels like it’s holding its breath as I crawl into bed fully clothed with the knife tucked under my pillow.
The moonlight filters through the window, casting long, thin shadows across the ceiling. They stretch and shift with every gust of wind.
I need sleep, tomorrow’s a double—library in the morning, then I close the bar. That’s twelve hours of pretending I’m fine and smiling when I have to.
At least Sarah will be there with me, which means I’ll get to pretend less and swear more.
Small mercies.
If I sleep now, I might survive it. But my eyes won’t close, that would be too convenient.
My thoughts won’t stop because something about tonight feels familiar, and that’s what scares me the most.
I roll onto my side, tucking the blanket under my chin and force myself to breathe slowly.
“Don’t act like you didn’t ask for this.”
The words hit like a bullet, ripping through whatever fragile peace I managed to scrape together.
