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The room tilts sideways. I fling my blankets off with desperate hands and stumble toward the en suite bathroom; I grab onto my dresser, the bed frame—anything solid I can find to keep me upright as the world spins around me.

I barely make it to the toilet before my stomach revolts, heaving everything I’ve eaten today in violent waves. The acid burns my throat, almost as much as the horrific knowledge of what has happened to the two people I cared about.

Behind me, I hear soft footsteps on the tile. I feel Ghost’s leather-covered hand in my hair, gathering it back from my face as I vomit again. His touch is soft, as if he’s handling something precious.

“Darling,” He sighs, his tone caring and breathy, as if he were sharing an intimate moment with me. Reality is, though, he’s holding my hair back while I puke from horror.

Revulsion tears through me with sheer power. I lurch away from him, my shoulders crashing hard into the door frame. Pain drills down my arm, but it’s masked by my fright. My vision distorts the black room with tears.

“You did it? You—you killed her? Why? You said in those notes that you—that you love me… You said—” I can’t finish my sentence. My thoughts are racing a million miles an hour, tripping over each other, none of them clear.

“Because you’re mine. No distractions. No one is filling your head with ideas of leaving me or calling the police. About what’s ‘healthy’ and ‘normal.’ Just you and me, the way it should be.” He is so calm and steady; it makes me want to claw at my ears to make it stop.

A violent sob wells up in my throat, but I force it back down, swallowing it like broken glass. I can’t afford to fall apart. Not now, not when he’s standing right there. Not when I’m the only person who knows what he’s done.

“I know it’s you, Hudson,” I hiss, clenching my fists and taking a step toward the nightstand where my phone sits, waiting. “You’ve gone too fucking far!”

Before I can take another step to snatch my phone, he’s on me. He moves faster than should have been possible, crossing the room in what seems to be a single bound. His body slams into mine with the force of a linebacker, sending us both onto the bed. His weight is enormous and solid muscle.

I thrash beneath him, bucking and twisting, trying to get leverage, but he’s too strong for me to fight off. His hands capture both of my wrists, pulling them behind my back. When I try to pull my legs from under him, he shifts his weight to trap them. Every movement I make, he counters effortlessly.

“I’m not who you think I am,” he rasps in my ear, his whisper hot against my skin, even through the mask. “It’s not wise to throw around accusations like that, darling. Someone could get hurt.”

“Shut up! Get off of me, you sick bastard,” I spit, fighting harder, trying to buck him off.

Each struggle seems to excite him more, and terror floods through me so much so that my sight pulses black around the edges.

“You’ll regret this! You’ll regret ever setting foot in my life! I’m going to make you pay! I’ll fucking destroy you!” I scream into the mattress, my voice breaking with rage and fear.

He laughs, a soft sound that raises every hair on my body. “I’m already destroyed, darling. Have been for a long time. There’s nothing you can do to hurt me worse than life already has. I’m yours, whether you want me or not; better come to accept that sooner rather than later.”

Finally, mercifully, he releases me. I roll away from him immediately, gasping and shaking as I catch my breath and press myself against the headboard. I watch him back away—a predator retreating into the woods.

“You’ll regret it when you spend the rest of your life in prison,” I tell him, trying to inject venom into the words.

Ghost stops in the doorway.

“Even if you call the police right now, they won’t believe you. Think about it… Really think. You’re connected to both victims. An abusive ex-boyfriend who mysteriously disappears, and your best friend, who everyone knows was trying to get you to leave the toxic relationship. And both are gone within a week of each other. Both are connected to you. How do you think that looks to investigators?”

An alarming chill prickles my body. He’s right, and we both know it. I stare at the back of him, desperately searching for something, anything, that I can use to identify him later. A scar, a tattoo, the way he walks, but he’s too careful, keeping the shadows in the perfect spots. Nothing, it’s like he’s a literal ghost.

“When you realize what’s good for you—meaning me—I’ll be here. Waiting. I’ll take you far away from all of this and build us a new life somewhere beautiful where no one will ask about the past. We’ll be so happy together, you won’t even remember their names. And eventually, you’ll thank me.”

I shake my head. “Never. I’ll never—”

“You will,” he cuts me off with certainty. “You’re stronger than you think you are, but everyone breaks eventually. Everyone needs someone to take care of them. I can be patient.”

Suddenly, I’m left alone with the unbearable weight of what he’s done and the horrible certainty that no one will believe me. The terrifying knowledge that even when he isn’t in my house, he’s still out there. Ghost is watching, waiting, and planning whatever comes next.

6

Darling

Days bleed together in a gray, shapeless sense of nothing after Blaire’s death. The authorities ruled it a suicide. The term feels so cold and clinical, but I know better. I know the truth.

Her family had her body sent back to Ohio, states away, and with that, I wasn’t allowed to say a proper goodbye to the one person who stuck by my side through everything. Even when we disagreed.

Her mom told me the funeral was private, family only. It hurts knowing I’m not considered her family after six years of friendship and multiple trips to Ohio to see them with her. It was six years of late-night phone calls, shared secrets, and holding her hair back when she was too drunk to function. 2,190 days of her being the best sister I never had, and they ship her away like cargo, leaving me in the dust.