Haunted Hearts

Chapter 28

Every inch of my body throbbed with pain, aching and sore as if I'd been through a battle. My throat felt like I'd swallowed a mouthful of sand, parched and raw, making every swallow a torment. Despite the merciless thirst clawing at me, sleep eluded my grasp, taunting me with its absence. I attempted to open my eyes, only to be assaulted by the harsh glare of daylight filtering through the open curtains. Of course, I'd forgotten to draw them shut. With a groan, I attempted to shift in bed, seeking refuge from the relentless sunbeam invading my room, only to encounter an unexpected obstacle—a solid, warm presence beside me.

Blinking against the intrusive light, I gradually made out the form of Logan, peacefully sleeping beside me. His breathing was steady, his eyelids fluttering subtly indicating that he was dreaming. And there, behind him, hung Mia's painting—a gift from Alexander. The same painting Logan had lied about. That painting.

How had I even made it home? And why did Logan and I were together in bed? Casting a glance beneath the sheets revealed our naked bodies. Did we...?
Panic surged within me, mingling with a rising tide of nausea as I struggled to piece together the events of the previous night.

Each memory like a jagged shard cutting through the fog of my mind. Logan had lied to me, that much was clear, and my anger simmered just beneath the surface, threatening to boil over at any moment. And then there was Alexander—his presence like a specter haunting my thoughts, his actions carved into my memory with horrifying clarity. The screams still echoed in my ears, a chilling sensation ran through my body as I realized I had witnessed death again in his presence. He burned that guy alive. The guy that tried to touch me while intoxicated.
He burned him.
Alive.

But now, in the harsh light of morning, the questions swirled around me like a whirlwind of uncertainty. Had Alexander brought me back here? And if so, why was Logan naked? Why was I naked? The realization hit me like a physical blow, sending me scrambling from the bed as Logan stirred beside me, finally waking from his slumber.

"Good morning, baby," he murmured, his tone raspy.

"Why are we naked?" I demanded, my voice trembling with a mixture of fear and anger.

"Easy," his eyes widened, "it's not what you think," Logan replied, confusion clouding his features as he sat up.

"But you're naked!" I insisted, my frustration mounting with each passing second.

"I know, I can't sleep with clothes, you know this," he explained, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Are you seriously suggesting that I—"

"Why am I naked, Logan?" I interrupted, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

The pain flickered across his face, his eyes softened, his words barely a whisper. "Baby..."

"Why?!" I pressed, desperation creeping into my voice.

"I don't know," he confessed, his anguish palpable. "When I came home, you were already here. You were sleeping with your dress on, and it was a relief to see you after we searched for you everywhere at the party. I thought that demon had snatched you away. You just disappeared—"

"Why am I naked?!" I demanded once more, my frustration boiling over.

"Baby, I don't know," Logan pleaded, his voice heavy with sorrow. "Like I said, when I arrived, you were sleeping with your dress on. I undressed and went to sleep, I swear."

His voice was sincere. Deep in my soul I just knew he wasn't lying. As I sat beside him, the pieces of the puzzle slowly began to fall into place. But if what he said was true, then Alexander hadn't been responsible for my state of undress either. Thank God.
Had I done it myself?