Maybe it’s all wishful thinking on my part.Because there’s no way Hayami could ever want me.Only weirdos are ever attracted to me, and people who see me as a morbid curiosity—the ones who want to tick “fucked a freak” off their bucket list.
I fight the urge to stroke my cock.I won’t stoop to that level whilst I’m supposed to be working.This is a job.But after the revelation that Willa isn’t here, I’m going to find it hard to remind myself of this.
After Hayami explained why she’d sent Willa away and my anger had settled, I realised what she was saying was right: Willa needs to be with her family, and Hayami has never taken her safety very seriously.I can’t help admiring her for having the nerve to defy her father, and for standing up for what she believes in and what she thinks is right.
There are grown men who won’t stand up to the likes of Barrett Devall.
The en suite door opens.I lean over the desk as Hayami emerges, towel-drying her hair, eyes on the floor.She doesn’t look up, doesn’t acknowledge the camera as she throws the towel over the back of the small sofa before she climbs into bed and flicks off the light.
Show’s over.
I settle back in the chair and replay her stripping in my head over and over and over again.
TWENTY-TWO
FENRIR
PRESENT
It’stwenty past two in the morning when Hayami stirs.
Sitting up, I focus on the screen as she slides one leg out of bed, followed by the other, and then pulls herself to stand.
My heart thumps erratically.
It’s just like last night—her body not holding itself properly, like she’s a puppet being manoeuvred, her head hanging to one side like she has a crick in her neck.
I brace my arms on the side of the chair, readying myself to run, but it’s as if the image on the screen is holding me down.
Slowly, she makes her way to the foot of the bed and looks up at the camera.That same lopsided angle of her head makes it appear as if she isn’t awake, yet her eyes glow wildly.Her arms rise, her fingers like tentacles as they reach for her face.
I don’t breathe as her fingers crawl inside her mouth and pull her lips apart, spreading that inane grin I saw last night, her white teeth appearing razor-sharp.Telling myself it’s just a trick of the light, my tired eyes fooling me into seeing things that aren’t there, I lean in to get a closer look and then wish I hadn’t.
Blood oozes from her open lips, pooling in the cavern of her mouth and dribbling down her chin.
The sight of the blood untethers me.
Taking the stairs two at a time, I sprint to her room, my pulse racing.My heart’s ready to explode through my chest.I fling open the door and?—
She’s in bed, fast asleep, the rhythmic rise and fall of the covers stilling the painful throb behind my ribcage.
What the fuck?
Not convinced I’m seeing things correctly, I enter the room, stopping in the spot where, seconds ago, she’d been standing, staring at the camera like a woman possessed and pulling the sides of her mouth into that hideous grin, blood flowing down her chin.
Yet the scene before me depicts none of this.The carpet is clean, with no patches of fresh blood, and Hayami is sound asleep, as if nothing has happened.
Taking a step towards her bed, I bend down and examine her face, looking for traces of blood.There’s nothing.
Her eyes spring open.
“Shit!”she gasps, sitting bolt upright.
I realise how weird this must have looked—Hayami opening her eyes to see me leering over her like some creep.
“Sorry,” I say quickly, backing away.Straightening, I clear my throat.“I thought I saw something on the camera, so I came to check it out, but it’s nothing,” I lie.ButamI lying?There’s nothing here, nothing to see.But I sawsomething, right?Is the lack of sleep already starting to play tricks on me?Or is it this house, the tales that have been told about sinister goings-on?
Fuck knows.
