Clothes damp with mud.
Eyes wide, terrified, fixed on my mask like I was something unreal.
He didn’t know it was me.
Not at first.
He thought I was some freak lurking in the trees.
And instead of stopping—
instead of saying his name—
instead of giving him a second to breathe—
I stepped closer.
I wanted to see what fear looked like on him.
I wanted to see what he’d do.
I tell myself now that it was just adrenaline.
Just a game.
Just old teenage cruelty.
But the truth is uglier.
Darker.
There was something about the way he looked up at me, chest heaving, hair sticking to his cheek, like he was begging without saying a word—
I stand abruptly, pacing.
This is insane.
I’m insane.
I take another swig of whiskey. My reflection in the window is distorted, warped. Unrecognizable.
And then… that moment outside tonight.
That almost—
I cut the thought off with a curse, dragging my hand down my face.
I didn’t lean in.
Hedid.
It was him. It had to be him. Because I would never—
But the memory of it hits me anyway.
His breath against my mouth.
The way his eyes darted to my lips.
