CHAPTER 64
**WINTER**
The wind bites through my coat, chilling me to the bone as I make my way home—well, Zion’s home. The taxi had broken down about ten minutes ago, leaving me to navigate the crisp fall night on foot. The stars are scattered across the sky, like a blanket of a million twinkling lights, but I barely notice their beauty as I wrap my arms tightly around myself.
My thoughts drift back to earlier when we were still in the car. Zion had hardly said a word, his silence speaking volumes as he sped down the road. It was like he couldn’t get rid of me fast enough. The moment we pulled up outside Johnson and Johnson, I barely had one foot out the door before he took off. Was he that eager to see Cindy? The question gnawed at me for the rest of the day.
At the cafe, I spent the day trying to learn the ropes. Everyone seemed nice enough, though my boss was another story. The less said about him, the better—he’s a creep, through and through.
I was thankful that my job only required me to work three times a week after classes. Speaking of classes, college starts tomorrow. I sighed, wishing the next two years would fly by. I longed to return to my mom and leave behind this house, this city, and Zion.
As the Royal Villa comes into view, a deep, unsettling chill washes over me, one that has nothing to do with the cold night air. It’s the kind of chill that settles in your gut, twisting it into knots, making the tiny hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. A gnawing sense of fear slithers up my spine, like a thousand invisible insects crawling just beneath my skin. My heart thuds louder with each step, and every shadow seems to stretch longer, darker as if reaching for me.
I fumble with my purse, my fingers trembling uncontrollably as I search for the key. The usual mundane task feels like an impossible challenge under the weight of the dread pressing down on me. When I finally manage to grasp the key, I yank it out with more force than necessary, my nerves frayed. My hands are shaking so badly that it takes three tries to fit the key into the lock. I groan into the still night air, frustration mixing with the fear gnawing at me.
Seriously? Get it together.
My pulse races, each beat a drum against my ribcage, and despite the chill in the air, sweat trickles down my temples and dampens my palms. I cast a glance over my shoulder, scanning the shadows, the trees, and anything that could be hiding in the darkness. The street is eerily quiet, but I can’t shake the feeling that someone—or something—is out there, watching me. It’s like I’ve stepped into one of those cliché horror movies where the protagonist is alone and vulnerable, and the monster is just waiting to pounce.
But this isn’t a movie. The fear is real, and it’s suffocating. My hands tremble as I finally turn the key in the lock, the loud click breaking the eerie silence, yet the nagging feeling that something is off won’t leave me.
I inhale deeply, struggling to calm my racing heart.
Calm down, I tell myself. You’re safe. There’s no one here. With trembling hands, I slide the key into the lock for the third time. Finally, I hear the reassuring click, and I push the door open, feeling a wave of relief as warm air rushes out to greet me. I step inside quickly and shut the door behind me, the sound of it closing echoing in the quiet space.
For a moment, I just stood there; my back pressed against the door, as I let out a long, shaky breath. My muscles loosen, and I almost sink to the floor, the tension draining away. What was that all about? I must be losing it.
I turn to peer through the glass, eyes fixed on the dark line of trees across the street. My gaze flickers over every shadow, every patch of darkness, waiting for something—or someone—to emerge. But nothing moves.
The street is as still as it was when I arrived, leaving me to wonder if my mind is playing tricks on me.
I’m alone.
There’s no one out there.
I shake off the lingering fear and head up the marble staircase towards my room. The house feels eerily quiet tonight, almost too quiet, but I suppose that’s normal.
Zion is probably out partying, I think, attempting to shake off the unease that won’t quite leave me. Most likely with Cindy—though I keep insisting it doesn’t matter. I don’t care what he does or who he’s with.
I force the thought out of my mind, focusing instead on the soft glow of the hallway lights as I approach my bedroom.
As I reach my bedroom, I place my hand on the door, the wood cool beneath my palm.
The door creaks as I push it open, the sound echoing in the silence. Stepping inside, I reach for the light switch, my fingers just brushing against it when something happens that freezes me in place. A cold hand clamps around my wrist, yanking me back. Before I can react, another hand slams down over my mouth, cutting off the scream rising in my throat.
Everything blurs together in a chaotic rush. I’m shoved against the wall, hard, my face pressed into the cold plaster. My heart hammers in my chest, and I can barely breathe, each frantic breath dragging in the scent of whiskey and soap. The door slams shut behind me, the sound a final, terrifying punctuation to the trap I’ve walked into.
I try to twist away, to fight back, but my attacker is too strong. I’m pinned, helpless, with no way to escape. Panic surges through me, making my thoughts scatter. My eyes are wide open, but it’s pitch black, and I can’t see anything. I hear my ragged breathing, the rush of blood pounding in my ears, and the quiet, sinister sound of my attacker’s breathing just behind me.
Suddenly, I’m spun around, my back hitting the wall with a dull thud. The hand over my mouth disappears, but the air is thick with the threat of violence, and I can’t bring myself to scream. I open my mouth to say something—anything—but no words come out. It’s as if fear has stolen my voice, leaving me mute and trembling. My pulse drums in my ears, each beat a deafening reminder of how trapped I am.
Then, I feel it. Those same fingers that gripped my shoulder with bruising force now trail down between my breasts, slow and deliberate, as savouring the moment. My skin crawls with revulsion, every nerve in my body screaming for me to move, to fight back, but I can’t. I’m paralyzed, shaking so hard I can barely stand, my mind reeling with one terrifying question: What’s going to happen next??.
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