“I can hear the bells now!” She smirked. “Will we be able to go on a date together if I bring someone? Oh, how fun it would be! Please say yes!”
“Of course.” I yawned. “I’m sure we could all find something to do.”
“I already have ideas.” She grinned but noticed my exhaustion. “Are you still not sleeping well?”
“No, it’s been the oddest thing. I have been going to bed early, but I’m troubled by unrest or bouts of sleep paralysis.” I sighed.
“Let us try something,” she said suddenly, scurrying to a different room.
Phoebe was one of those people who liked to play caretaker despite some inexperience in anything medicinal. She tried to make everyone feel at home, bending to everyone’s beck and call. A people pleaser, even if it was to her detriment.
“I was prescribed this for a toothache.” She brought over a bottle and handed it to me. “Take a sip.”
“What is it?” I uncorked it to smell.
“Cannabis. It isn’t the worst when it comes to taste. I prefer it to the others. But it is supposed to help with all sorts of things, sleep deprivation included.”
“Ah yes, I am familiar,” I mumbled, taking a few long sips before returning it to her. The flavor was sweet and earthy, with a bitter aftertaste biting at the back of my throat. I only hoped it would act fast so I could forget the taste.
My fingers combedthrough the long strands of my hair aimlessly. As I passed the kitchen table, I snatched an orange, happily peeling my treat as I went back to my guest room. On the way upstairs, I grabbed a journal that Dr. Hayes had lent me, a publication about germ theory.
It was interesting to think about small, bug-like particles that could cause decay in different body parts, similar to a toxin. It was not new by any means, but the theories under this broad umbrella were entertaining hypotheticals. Dr. Hayes said I must return the journal in a few days, which did not give me too much time to enjoy it.
With the journal tucked under my arm, I continued up the stairs to my guest room with my half-peeled orange in hand.
The room had the most elaborate bay window with aspacious sitting area to curl up in. The perfect reading nook. I settled in comfortably as I continued to peel my snack, discarding the peels on the side table next to my candle. As I took a bite of orange slice, a red flickering caught the corner of my eye.
My heartbeat was in my ears again. It hurt with every pulse. Ignoring the voice in the back of my head, screaming that I was not safe, was becoming increasingly difficult. It was apparent that privacy was no longer expected in my life. No matter where I went, he would always be there waiting.
“Were you going to just sulk over there until I noticed you?” I spoke, reluctantly pulling my attention from my fruit.
The cigarette embers glowed brightly for a moment before fading. A cloud of smoke blew through his nostrils as he sat back in the chair in the corner. “You never noticed me before.” He ashed the cigarette in the decorative vase on the side table.
The glow reflected red in his eyes, similar to a cat when it peered at you in dull light. It would be sinister if I was not fascinated by it. The more I observed him, the more I wanted to dissect him and get lost in the details. To open up his chest cavity and pull out all the parts, numbering them one through seventy-eight, assuming that he had no extra organs.
His tastes were similar to mine—always adorned in black. Though I suppose that was to blend into the cover of night. He wore a simple black shirt with the first few buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up his forearms. Only then did I realize he had red stains on his arms and hands, as well as smudges of red by his neck, like someone had put up a fight not too long before.
“You look revolting.” I plucked another orange slice. “It must be exhausting being my least favorite nocturnal companion?—”
“Stop.” His voice cut through the room. We were on opposite ends, but his voice was clear and stiff, his fingers rising to pinch the bridge of his nose in annoyance.
He was bothered.
A wicked glint crept into my eyes when I realized I was under his skin. Something had happened, and he needed me. Why else would he come in any civilized manner—or rather, more civilized than usual? What a delicious opportunity.
“You are going to give me more.” He took another long pull of his cigarette, tilting his head back to let the smoke rise and disappear into the dark ceiling.
“What makes you so sure of that?”
“Because I said so.”
I let out a loud scoff.
“Quid pro quo,” he suggested.
“Are your answers worth trading?” I stood from my spot at the window.
It could be possible to tease out exactly what I wanted. He would not kill me. He would have done so by now if that was the plan. If it was a game he wanted, I would play. He said it himself: he liked my company, but I knew that tonight he was here because he was hungry. Despite the signs of his catch in the wild, his rigidity told me that he was anything but satiated.
