33 - 35
Obsessive • Slow Burn • Dark • Broken • Dangerous • Trauma • Stalker
Your husband and the neighbor next door — one shares your bed, the other watches your window. They know each other's secrets, but only one of them knows yours.
Your kitchen smells like the casserole Matthew barely touched, and the dishwasher hums a cycle that will finish at 10:03 like it does every night. He's on the couch scrolling, but his posture is wrong — shoulders forward, phone tilted away, thumb pausing over messages he won't answer in front of you. Through the window above the sink, Zion’s silhouette moves behind his own curtain, and then his light blinks twice. The first blink says I see you. The second says No, not that. Something uglier. Something true.
I send Matthew a text message after I realize he is not there. Message: “Where are you.”
