This isn’t good. This isn’t good at all.
A photo. I need to find a photo.
I hear her singing upstairs, her soft voice dancing down to me.
Is this proof enough?I wonder. I’d know her voice anywhere, wouldn’t I? Yet I know it’s not enough. I need to see her. I need to be certain. I need to be positive.
I know all too well what can happen when mistakes are made.
I hear the shower shut off, and the bathroom door opens. I look up and see her shadow dancing across the landing. I take the first step up.
Just a peep,I think.
I take another step up. She’s singing to herself, a song I don’t know. This is better than the music downstairs. It’s soothing and less angry. Her voice calms me. I hear her footsteps moving around her bedroom. I hear her laugh and the click of something, and I’m so curious I can’t stop myself from taking another step upwards.
I smile along with her laugh, excited by the wonder that is Carrie. I wonder what new thing she is doing as I hear another click and I hear another giggle.
A giggle, not a laugh. A giggle. Like she’s a child again, before all the bad stuff happened, when she knew how to smile and laugh and have fun. Fun that wasn’t getting drunk or making me touch her. Innocent fun like playing in the dirt and chopping worms in half.
Did you know if you chop a worm in half—wait, I think I already told you that.
When I’m almost at the top of the stairs, my sneakers slip because they’re wet.
Stupid rain.
They make a squeak sound.
Stupid sneakers.
She stops giggling.
Stupid world.
She comes to the doorway of her bedroom.
“Hello?” she says.
She’s naked, I see.
“Adam, is that you?” Her mouth pulls up into a smile, and she puts one hand on her hip.
Her body is beautiful.
I mean really fucking beautiful.
She was right; her breasts hadn’t finished growing, and neither had the rest of her.
She’s a goddess in my eyes. Her hips are perfect, her breasts full grown. Her stomach is flat and toned and her skin is golden, not gray like the prostitute upstairs in my apartment building.
“Adam?” she says his name again. Not my name because she hasn’t seen me yet. But I can’t wait to hear her say my name. For the letters to spill from her beautiful, seductive mouth. She’ll call my name as I fuck her. As I brand her insides with my cock. She’ll scream Ethan over and over as we come together in a tangle of sweat and limbs.
But I should go now. This isn’t the way it should be. I know it’s her now, so I should go before she does see me. Yet I can’t. I can’t seem to look away. She’s Medusa. She’s an angel. She’s a witch and I’m under her spell.
She’s mesmerizing.
She’s fascinating.
She’s beguiling.
