Closed.Screwed tight.
I haven’t pushed my luck since the night I crawled out and found more blood than answers.Since Royal dragged me back and kissed me like he hated me for breathing.I remember when he taped my mouth, locked me in the closet to punish me for wanting him, then made me watch him break someone else.Like he broke me last night.
I’ve been good.
Good enough.
But now I wonder if it matters…
I pull the battered spiral notebook from under the mattress and open to a blank page.My handwriting is jagged, uneven.
Demon Leaper:
– Tall
– Shadow limbs
– Fire eyes
– Incense + sulfur + rot
– Fast
– Graveyard
Voice: whispered my name.Not Becki.Rebecca.
Meaning: either hallucination or something that knows me.
I underline the last part twice, aggressively.
I add:
Royal saw something too.He lied about it.His eyes didn’t.
The clubhouse is unusually still.Not the fun kind of quiet.The kind that comes before something breaks.
I press my ear to the metal door.
Footsteps.
Slow.Heavy.Deliberate.
They stop right outside.
My breath freezes.
I pull back slowly, silently.Waiting for a voice.A key.A threat.
Nothing.
No knock.
No whispered warning.
No Royal half-snarl, half-confession.
Just silence.
