My mission was to make her cry. My mission was to cause her pain. My mission was to push her to the edge—where death would be the only way out.
Just like she did to me.
She was all I thought about every single day. She haunted my every waking moment, but not the way she thought. I didn’t see the girl I once loved. I saw prey. And God, how easy it was to break her down, piece by pathetic piece.
I started small, just enough to make her question her luck—hacking into her card the second she paid for something, wiping out half of her balance before she even walked out of the store. She thought it was bad luck, a system error, but after the fourth time, it was impossible to ignore.
She’d changed banks ten times. Ten.
And now? She was too scared to trust any of them. No accounts. No cards. No security. She’d resorted to stuffing her cash in a piggy bank like a child. But that was nothing. That was just the warm-up.
Her real hell started when I took away her chances. Every interview, every job opportunity—it was mine to sabotage. Every time, I’d plant something so damning that they wouldn’t even bother calling her back. I wanted her to feel it, the crushing defeat, the hopelessness of it all. No matter how hard she tried, she was never going to escape me.
She didn’t know I was the reason she couldn’t make rent. Why she had to crawl back to her pathetic hometown, humiliated, and take whatever scraps she could find. She thought she was just unlucky, cursed even. But no, it was me.It’s always been me.
And the best part? I was just getting started.
We were in the same box, the same place it started six years ago. I’d always hated that big city, but here, I could make her dance to my tune anyhow I wanted.
I went to my laptop and brought up the footage of her living room which was seemingly empty. I’d planted my cameras there before she moved in seven weeks ago, knowing she had no other place to return to but there. I’d refrained from putting one in her room even if every atom in me screamed to do so. But it was everywhere else—kitchen, living room, hallway, backyard, front porch and other rooms except hers. However, there was a tree opposite her bedroom window, and I’d put one there, though it was of no use with the frosted glass she refused to clean.
Five minutes later, Ainsley appeared in the hallway, walking to the living room and to the kitchen. She had called a repairman to have her door and windows checked yesterday after I snuck in while she was sleeping. I had my own keys to her place, had to make one for myself before she arrived so I could get in and out easily without having to break in.
Seeing her so unease, damn, it fed the beast in me.
She was out of her house within an hour to volunteer for jobs, and a good idea dropped into my head as I watched her walk out in a high loose Bermuda jean shorts and bomber jacket, her wavy brown hair tucked in a facecap.
I might have the plan for us to meet, the best way to begin her madness.
3
AINSLEY
My bones hurt. Fuck, they hurt so bad.
I flung my bag on the living room chair after locking my front door, and made my way to the kitchen to have some water.
I made twenty-nine dollars today—cleaned two houses. One of which made my bones ache to death. I’d scrubbed bathroom floors, done the dishes, cleaned all the rooms, and cooked. Yes, I did that. The old man lived alone and his caretaker had called in sick, so I had to make some side dishes for an extra five dollars.
Fifteen percent of people who lived in this town knew me because I graduated high school here. The good part was that my mates had moved out of here to big cities like I did, so doing this dirty job wasn’t much of an embarrassment, unless their parents recognised me. Now, that was the bad news.
I took a cup and turned on the faucet, but not even a drop of water fell. “No, no, no, please don’t,” I chanted as I slapped the faucet. “Just a drop, please.” I was close to breaking down when nothing changed, my trembling bottom lip in between my teeth. Was the pipe broken?
“No, don’t fucking tell me.” Panic seized me as I ran to my bathroom. After a short prayer, I twisted the shower on. Water came out steadily for four seconds, but began to dwindle as the seconds passed…until it finally stopped.
This time, I really broke down. Life couldn’t be any worse. Why? Why? Why me?
A scream tore out of me as I sent the nearby object crashing to the floor. I hated it. I was the most unlucky person to everwalk this earth, and I’d accepted my fate, hoping the acceptance would make it less intolerable. But no, it kept getting worse and worse. I couldn’t keep up with the amount of times I’d felt the strong urge to jump off a cliff, run into an incoming truck, or overdose to death.It was one suicidal thought after another.
When I was done sulking on the floor, I dragged myself to my bed, thoroughly exhausted—emotionally and physically. I stopped beside my dresser and picked up the locket that had sent chills down my body yesterday. It was familiar, so familiar. But I didn’t know where I’d seen it. And the letter inside, Vin had suggested I tell the police about it. But it wasn’t anything to involve the police yet. Not yet. If it persisted, I would.
My phone’s ringtone pulled my focus to the door, and I dropped the locket, hurrying to retrieve it from the bag I’d left in the living room. The number was unknown, but it was on my second SIM card—the one I only gave out for work—so I didn’t think much of it.
I cleared my throat. “Hello?”
Silence.
“Hello? Is anyone there?” I said slowly.
