𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐓𝐨 𝐘𝐨𝐮

𝕸 𝖔 𝖔 𝖓: 𝖙 𝖊 𝖉 𝖉 𝖞

[𝙍𝙀𝙈𝙄𝙉𝘿𝙀𝙍]: 𝙔𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙥𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙙𝙤𝙬𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙬. 𝙄𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙪𝙥 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙞𝙩, 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙖 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙨 𝙪𝙥 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙜𝙚𝙧 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙚𝙥𝙞𝙨𝙤𝙙𝙚 𝙤𝙣𝙚.

W̲I̲T̲H̲ ̲A̲N̲O̲T̲H̲E̲R̲ ̲C̲H̲U̲C̲K̲L̲E̲ ̲S̲L̲I̲P̲P̲I̲N̲G̲ ̲F̲R̲O̲M̲
my lips, I sank a little deeper into the bath, letting the warm water embrace my entire body even more;

And that's my ultimate love: soaking in water that perfectly matches my infernal roots.

Surrounded by a bunch of candles casting a cozy glow in my bathroom, giving it that classy, elegant, and romantic vibe, there's also a muted TV hanging on the wall opposite the bath.

Now, it's all about sinking into relaxation amidst the bubbles, the sweet scent of rose essential oils, and with my half-full glass of wine within reach.

My eyes keep darting back to the TV screen, where the news is blabbering about Elena Gomez and Jake Danford returning to LA; all I catch are lip movements and snapshots of them, as the reporter undoubtedly drones on about their whole love saga again.

Never-ending comedy-drama;

For real, is there anyone still into playing these childish games of hare and hounds?

I ain't even listening to their voices, but just seeing those same old pictures they always trot out to explain their relationship drama makes it easy to guess what the reporter's yakking about.

I've seen these tabloids do this dance so many times, it's practically burned into my brain.

"Like I said, everything's taken care of now," — The deep, grown-up voice from the phone speaker sitting on the nearby table echoed through the bathroom, filling the silence left by the muted TV — "No trace of Seth left."

"What about his people?" — Reaching for the wine glass, my eyes stayed glued to the screen.

"We double-crossed them, tracking them to a rival car mafia," — He smirked — "Don't worry about a thing, sweetheart. They'll be too busy finishing each other off by sunrise, leaving us with an even bigger advantage and more space in the market."

"Getting two birds with one stone is my kind of hustle," — I remarked, taking a sip of wine — "Lucky for me, I pulled a slick move with that second mafia dude, nabbed his credit card and copied his car key. Now I've got myself a fat inheritance without laying a finger on anything."

"Don't forget about your old man, forever stuck cleaning up after your dirts." — He chuckled.

"Ah, you know you've got a soft spot in my heart," — I said, leaning my elbow against the bath frame with wine in hand, still glued to the screen — "Taking care of Seth and making him vanish without even a speck of blood on my sheets feels like giving you a little something extra, as a token of appreciation."

"Can't wait for the transfer, so I can finally kick back and relax at the gambling club," — He took in a deep breath through his nostrils — "Yeah, I can already smell the double winnings coming my way."

"Just make sure your little one doesn't interfere this time," — I sipped the wine again — "Like last time, you were teetering on the edge of losing the game and I had to go lurk around your rival and deal with him."

"I clean up your mess while you clean up mine, that's symbiosis," — We both let out a chuckle — "One more thing, have you thought about what to do with that crybaby?"

"Nah, not yet," — I shrugged, swirling the wine in my glass — "Haven't even bothered to think about him."

"Well, if I wasn't stuck at the main HQ and didn't have to endure his desperate whining day and night, I wouldn't give a damn either," — He paused, taking a sip of his drink — "I still have no clue why you dragged him into this mess. He's always been useless."

"Everyone has their uses; you just have to know how to make them worth it, Dad," — I said, sinking deeper into the bath.

"Can't I just smash his head in so he'll stop whining?" — He sighed in annoyance — "Really, just give me the green light, and I'll get rid of him quicker than I did with Seth."

"We only get our hands dirty with valuable people, and that might pay off," — I said, idly playing with the foam — "He's not worth staining our hands with a murder committed by any of us."

"But you know the deal, sweetie," — He continued — "Let's just say we could've used him a few months back, and maybe offing him wasn't entirely necessary then, but now? There's just no way we can use him anymore. He's completely useless in his old circles, and all he brings now is pain to my poor nerves."

"You're a tough cookie, big guy," — I teased with a smirk — "You can tough it out a bit longer, Dad. At least until I come up with something we can use him for."

"You get a kick out of torturing your poor, old man, don't you?"

"Consider it my sweet revenge, bringing some peace and satisfaction for my past."

"Fine, have it your way," — He groaned, earning another chuckle from me — "But do me a favour and, at least, send over some earplugs."

"The awareness of you squirming and your ears bleeding gives me a some kind of pleasant satisfaction I want to relish a bit longer."

"You're absolutely ruthless." - He chuckled.

"Like father, like daughter," — I remarked, taking another sip of my wine — "If you catch wind of anything new in Seth's people case, give me a heads-up ASAP."

"Will do, sweetheart," — I heard the smile in his voice — "Sleep well."

"Evil never sleeps," — I gave the wine in the glass another swirl — "It only awakes at night."

Reaching over to the side, plopped the empty wine glass back on the table, and tapped my screen to end the call.

As I was waving through the space, I grabbed the TV remote and gave it a few taps, cranking up the volume, filling the bathroom silence with the reportage that had previously been out of earshot.

Finally, some me-time;

No calls, no work on the agenda, no hunting for victims, no plans to plot, no problems to unravel.

Just me, so my favorite comrade.

Inhaling deeply through my grin, I eased my back down against the tub until my whole body was submerged, leaving just my head above the water, with the warmth gently cradling my chin.

With a calming inhale, I drew in enough air to allow the warm water to caress my lips, nose, cheeks, and forehead as I descended deeper beneath the surface.

Having my eyes closed shut, I allowed myself to sink into the blissful support of the bath beneath my back, as if it were the most opulent of mattresses;

To be honest, it truly ranks among the most comfortable ones.

Allowing a few tiny bubbles to escape from my nostrils, I gently waved my hands in the water to prevent myself from rising uncontrollably, all the while relishing the sensation of my brown hair swirling chaotically around me, carelessly dancing in the water.

Nothing was making its way into my ears;

Silence enveloped me completely; as all I caught were muffled sounds blaring from the TV, distorted by the water barrier.

I couldn't feel anything.

Just as it always had been;

Something I've drilled into myself since childhood—don't feel.

Just turn it off;

•

A flash crossed my field of vision, transporting me to a completely different place;

The long, dark corridors were meant to be squeaky clean and sanitized, but this place was anything but spotless.

The old, cracked walls sported shades of greyish-green, darker at the bottom and in the middle, hinting that even vomits might add more color.

The walls were sparsely decorated, adorned only with framed regulations, first aid tips, vaccination posters, and reminders about regular breast cancer screenings.

How nice.

Down the corridor, narrow but lengthy wooden benches flank both sides, providing a spot for folks waiting to be called from one of the nearby doors.

But there isn't a soul occupying them.

Not even me;

Looking down, I met the comforting touch of the blanket, gently enveloping my body as I reclined in the wheelchair; I recognize it by the feel of its metal armrests beneath my palms, nestled beneath the blanket.

I would recognise that shit in any place, at any time.

And that fucking smell;

The air hung thick with the pungent mix of antibacterial gel and disinfectant sprays, hitting hard on the nose. Amidst it all, the faint whiff of fresh injections lingered, a grim reminder of the ongoing fight against sickness and germs.

Despite the squeaky clean exterior, there was an eerie sense of artificiality, a stark reminder that even in this sanitized setting, illness still loomed large.

Or perhaps, more torments.

"Hey there, my favorite little lady. Ready for today's session?"

As the guy's deep voice resonated through the deserted corridor, I raised my head, meeting the gaze of the man in the white apron stationed at the doorway of the doctor's office.

With his hand casually resting in front of him, slightly lower, he held onto a slim file folder pressed against his stomach—undoubtedly filled with my medical results from today.

His face wore a gentle, innocent smile as his eyes met mine.

Don't put your faith in eyes that hint at innocence; those ones conceal the darkest evils, surpassing even the most notorious criminals.

Trust me on that.

"Do I really have to?" — I lifted my head, attempting to make eye contact with the person in the wheelchair.

"Oh, honey, you know it's all for the best,"

A soothing female voice drifted from behind me, accompanied by a gentle push that nudged my wheelchair closer to the open door.

"We're nearing the end of your convalescence journey — A gentle touch from a woman's hand caressed my shoulder from behind — You've almost made it."

"Is it going to hurt like last time?" — I inquired, inching closer.

I looked up at the doctor, who made room at the doorway for me to wheel in.

But he let out a soft chuckle through his nostrils at the question.

Of course, it's going to hurt again;

As usual, it'll have me screaming for begs to kill me, echoing throughout every level of this fucking hospital.

It took just a few sessions for me to understand why we always schedule these at night, when the hospital is nearly deserted.

"Just turn it off, honey, and it'll be over before you know it." — He said with a gentle tone and a smile, breaking the silence between us.

Jackass;

He gets a kick out of doing that to me, I just know it.

I bet he's counting down the hours until evening rolls around, just so I can show up and become his personal lab rat.

He's probably thrilled at the thought of testing every technology, technique, and machine on me, all in pursuit of that "eureka" moment that'll win him the Nobel Prize for revolutionizing medicine.

Unless I die from exhaustion one day, robbing him of the chance to reach the climax of his psychotic ambitions.

"Thank you," — I could hear the smile in his voice as he took charge of steering the wheelchair — "I'll take care of it and then, bring your daughter back to you in no time.

"Best of luck, sweetheart."

But before I knew it, her voice faded away as the door to the doctor's office closed shut.

Or better yet, the office of tortures;

Slaughterhouse.

"You've been making great strides lately, young lady," — His calm voice filled the office, blending with the sound of my wheels rolling across the tile floor — "I believe we're ready to implement the final treatment."

With a sharp turn, he directed me towards the opposite end of the office, guiding me towards the machine I was slowly approaching with his assistance.

Enormous one;

The creepiest thing I've ever laid eyes on.

Having been here countless times each day, I've always stolen glances in the direction of that machine, praying to every non-existent deity imaginable that I never have to get closer to it than a kilometer.

That pile of metal has been giving me the creeps in my worst nightmares ever since I first set eyes on it..

That contraption, armed to the teeth with pliers, hammers, knives, and lasers, could send you into cardiac arrest just by catching a glimpse of it when it's fired up, lurking quietly in the shadows of the office.

But it's far from innocent now; when it's fired up, it roars like an engine, sounding more like a bomb going off.

I can't help but wonder how the floor beneath it hasn't given way under the pressure yet;

"Based on your current condition, I estimate today's session alone could improve the strength in your legs by around 30%," — He said, sounding excited — "But I'm aiming to push that up to 50% right off the bat."

But I was rendered speechless;

The closer I got to the machine, the wider my eyes grew, and every muscle in my body— even the ones I couldn't feel— tightened up in an instant.

My hands clamped onto the armrests of the wheelchair, while my head started shaking nervously, signaling my resistance against that machine.

But I was utterly powerless;

Defenseless.

The rumble of the wheels against the floor blended with the gentle whistle from the man behind me, nearly pulling me to the brink of consciousness as the machine inched closer and closer.

Sadist.

My chest rises and falls uncontrollably, feeling like my heart is about to burst out of my chest;

I can't breathe;

I can't.

Breathe.

•

"The one thing that remains shrouded in mystery amid all the publicity is the relationship status between Elena and Jake. Since their return, they've kept mum about any details, but their fans have already begun crafting theories..."

The reporter's voice came through crystal clear as soon as I resurfaced, gasping for air.

I popped out of the water, creating a wave that sloshed some water out of the tub.

My vision, initially blurry, gradually cleared up.

I'm here. 

Now.

I'm still in my own bathroom, decked out with just my candles, furniture, and a few extras for that added touch of style.

And definitely no doctor machines in sight;

They're speculating based on the fact that they were absent at the same time and returned simultaneously. Could it be possible that they were out of the limelight together? Perhaps indulging in their love in private?

"They're seriously a curse." — Gritting my teeth in frustration, I shot a glare at the TV screen, wiping away the excess water from my face.

But at last, I could take in a deep, long breath, basking in the warmth of the steam drifting from the bath, while the sweet scent of roses teased my nostrils.

Sometimes, I get hit with these not-so-pleasant flashbacks—the kind that really molded me—usually when I'm at the peak of my activity, reaching the pinnacle of my energy after days or weeks of hard graft.

But believe me, it doesn't faze me in the slightest.

Quite the opposite; it reminds me of what I've endured and what I've risen up from.

From ashes;

While everyone else is just living their lives, marching towards their final resting place six feet under, I've gone the opposite direction; I started as mere ashes—fragile, weak, and worthless—but through sheer strength, I've transformed into an indestructible machine.

The machine much more solid, frightening, unpredictable, painful, and dangerous than the one I encountered in that doctor's office.

I rolled my eyes, casually dipped my hand into the water, and smoothly snatched the remote from the nearby table, shutting down all the whining about Elena and Jake's drama.

My whole body's literally aching, but not from memories of that bone-crushing machine that wrecked me ten times over, but from the sight of their faces in those damn photos.

"Seriously, people, get a life," — I grumbled, sitting up in the tub — "If I have to endure another season of that Turkish show, I might just chop off my ears to save myself the agony."

Stepping smoothly out of the bath, I planted my feet on the soft rug beside it, taking my time before wrapping myself in the towel; instead, I just began to dry off my wet body as I made my way over to the mirror.

Despite the fogged mirror, I could still make out the silhouette drawing nearer, its shadow and highlights becoming more defined with each step.

Finally facing the mirror, I extended my slender, sun-kissed arm, adorned with soft tattoos, and gently swept my palm and fingers across the fogged surface, revealing a clearer view of my body.

I'm all about loving my body, and let's be real, I'm feeling smoking hot; I adore admiring this divine body of mine, sculpted as if by Michelangelo's own hand, a true Greek Goddess come to life.

Yet beneath this heavenly exterior lies a hint of mischief, like a serpent tempting all who cross my path to indulge in Original Sin.

I'm fully aware of it, and I won't pretend things are any different, because they're not.

And I know you wouldn't stand a chance to resist me either; no matter how much you'd try.

What really threw me off my chill vibe of checking myself out butt-naked in the bathroom was the sound of knocking echoing from downstairs, definitely from the front door.

I froze in front of the mirror, narrowed my eyes, and shot a side-eye at the closed bathroom door;

Silence.

Silence was the only logical response, especially since I wasn't expecting anyone, especially not in the middle of the night.

Quite logical.

Pursing my lips in disinterest and giving a casual shrug, I redirected my gaze straight ahead to my reflection in the mirror; leaning in a bit closer, I was about to examine my face more closely when the sound of knocking, a bit louder and harder, echoed again.

"Alright, you've been begging for it,"

With an annoyed eye roll, I swiftly yanked open the drawer beneath the sink, retrieving my Glock G19 which I deftly spun it between my fingers as my other hand grabbed the towel.

"One shot to the spleen, and you'll quickly figure out why it was smarter to borrow sugar from the other neighbor."

Placing the gun between my teeth, I grabbed the towel with both hands and began wrapping it around my body as I casually made my way out of the bathroom, descending the stairs toward the main door.

Do I give a damn who it is?

Nope, not even a little.

Anyone from my team?

Doubt it;

Not a chance one of them would be lurking outside; not only was I just on the phone with my father, who's with the whole squad at HQ, but every single one of them knows the drill, with their special knock-code and all, never surprising me by just showing up unannounced.

Neighbors?

Non-existing;

I killed all of them while testing out my latest piece of weapon a few months ago.

Delivery guy's tale?

No way he's showing up here at this hour, it's gotta be some kind of setup. Too obvious, too dumb to catch me off guard.

Lost traveler looking for help and directions to the city center?

Sounds like a possible scenario, but instead of pointing them in the right direction, I'd give them a one-way ticket to becoming worm food.

What's the most likely scenario? Some kind of trouble.

But I always handle any kind of trouble swiftly and seamlessly, never hesitating where to aim that fatal shot; especially when someone makes me moody.

No second thoughts; as I got to the door, wrapped in my black towel, I shifted the weapon from my mouth to my hand and with a smooth swing, I pulled the door open and aimed ahead, firing off a shot as it cracked open, revealing the patio beyond.

I'm not one for drawn-out torture sessions right now, but a quick mood boost courtesy of a well-aimed shot to the guy who dared to disturb me?

That's more my style.

But as the shot rang out—echoing through the woods—the sound reverberating like in the mountains, all it did was startle a flock of ravens into rapid flight, their squawks echoing in response to the sudden noise.

What really grinds my gears is the silence that follows; no shouts of pain, no thuds of bodies hitting the ground.

Just eerie quiet.

Because there's nobody in front of me.

Not a single familiar face, nor the face of a stranger;

No random dude looking for directions to the city, nor a group of dangerous gorillas ready to tear me apart with hands twice the size of my face.

Just the dark woods out yonder, a good ways from my house, where the shot eventually seemed to touch down somewhere, the echoes of those ravens also fading off into the distance.

"Yeah, let me guess," — I rolled my eyes, stepping forward  — "Playing hide-and-seek by the patio, huh, prankster?"

Do I even need to spell out this tactic? Just think about Elena's memory loss adventure; she was too stupid and chaotic to watch her back, and when she barged through the door, she got snagged and served up a dose of Neuropine.

But that's the price to pay for being an idiot.

She's literally the poster child for the theory that the dumber you are, the luckier you get.

Without a hint of fear coursing through me as I stared into the darkness of the woods ahead, I took another bold step, nearly hurrying through the threshold.

But just as I was about to step out of the house to confront whoever was lurking on the patio, my foot connected with something that, I reckon, I kicked.

"Huh?" — I squinted, casting a quick glance downward;

"Hm..."

With a blank expression, I grimaced slightly as I eyed the box, scanning its perimeter and leaning in for a closer look from all angles.

Then, without hesitation, I aimed the gun at it and fired, punching a hole right through.

"No bombshell here, I see"

I gave the box another once-over, then decided to nudge it with a gentle kick, observing as it slid a few inches.

"No heavy artillery or booby traps either."

Lifting my head again, I scoped out the backyard of my property with a wary gaze, ping-ponging my eyes in suspicion around the area, but all I got in return was the eerie howling of owls.

"Awesome," — I grinned, striding backwards — "Watch out though, one chip on these killer Hybrid Pedicure nails and I might just set the world on fire."

And that's how the gap between my foot and the box was just right for me to unleash a powerful swing and deliver such a solid kick that sent the box flying at least halfway between my house and the woods.

"Sorry, those tricks won't fly with me,"

Speaking a bit louder, I took a step back, finding myself back on the threshold, my gaze fixed firmly ahead into the woods as my hand gripped the door's surface.

I don't know if someone's lurking around here. I have no idea if there's someone here, listening in on me.

Or whether someone set that trap and split right after knocking for the second time.

But I don't give a fuck.

I've dodged way worse traps, so this Trojan Horse trick makes me feel a bit offended; like someone thought I'd fall for such a rookie move.

"Go peddle your cliché and dumb traps to the suckers in LA, not around here."

Silence again.

Part of me was itching to just slam the door shut and get back to minding my own business inside the house; but another part of me couldn't tear my eyes away from one spot in the distance, out there in the woods.

In the pitch-black night, my eyes couldn't make out anything beyond the dark shadows blending into the woods.

Yet, I couldn't shake this strange feeling washing over me.

The feeling of me being observed.

Squinting hard, I tried to crank up my vision to HD quality, attempting to peer through the darkness of the woods like I had night vision goggles on, but no dice.

No one in sight;

Not a single movement;

Not even the faintest sound—not even the slightest snap of a broken branch;

Nothing.

Yet, my guts are screaming that something is definitely off about that particular spot.

And I always heed its advice.

"Hm..." — Exhaling a breath almost soundlessly, devoid of any emotion, I aimed my gun straight at that spot.

With precision, I targeted the center of the suspicious area and pulled the trigger.

But once more, as the shot rang out, shattering the tranquility with its rapid and deafening sound, I was met with silence; the echoes faded deeper into the woods, leaving me with nothing but the panicked squawks of the ravens for company.

Despite firing a shot directly into that spot, which yielded no answers, the unsettling feeling of having someone's eyes on me didn't dissipate. 

"Whoever that was, I'm hoping they got the hint to step away and not try any stupid games with me." — Grumbling in annoyance, I tore my gaze away from the woods and back to the box.

Not much had changed there either;

It still lay upside down on the grass, sporting a dent from the force of my kick.

Just to double-check it was still there, I rolled my eyes and took another step back and with a nonchalant flick, I slammed the door shut right in front of my nose, sending a breeze through my damp hair as I smoothly turned the lock to secure it.

"People are seriously too bored."

Turning on my bare feet, I headed back upstairs to the bathroom to continue my relaxation;

Starting with a full-body shave and scrubbing away dry skin with a glove, then moving on to self-massages that loosened up my tense muscles.

I didn't forget about facial massages either, enhancing my beautiful complexion even more.

Finally, I slipped into a comfy, oversized black t-shirt and a black lace thong, signaling that it's time to kick back and take a well-deserved break.

Exiting the bathroom and making my way to my bedroom, I stretched my arms overhead, letting out a mighty yawn; as I did, my perfectly rounded ass peeked out from under the t-shirt.

Do I mind?

Nah at all;

But do you mind picturing it all by yourself?

With one final smirk gracing my lips and a slight shake of my head, my palm glided over the doorknob of my bedroom;

With a firm twist, I made the lock click, signaling its openness, and stepped inside without a second thought.

But just as I was about to step over the threshold into the bedroom, I paused at the last second, freezing in place as my eyes scanned the room.

Something is wrong;

Something is fucked up;

I can smell it from a mile away.

There's something different about the room;

Something that makes it seem way more sketchy than how I left it a few hours ago.

I guess I gotta give props to that sadistic doctor from back in the day for dish out those "spot the difference" puzzles during my supposed therapy-breaks, but at least he let me have those precious moments.

Looks like I owe him a thank-you card, 'cause it only took me about 15 seconds to clock what was off in that room;

I froze at the doorway.

Not out of fear, but more out of confusion and even a hint of anger.

Scanning the whole bedroom, I couldn't see anything unsettling, just shadows of the dark night lurking in the corners.

The balcony door was shut tight as well.

"Okay, someone's seriously trying to get under my skin."

Grumbling under my breath, I stormed into the room, slamming the door shut behind me, making a beeline for the table with the gift box.

Of course, it's the one I booted into the middle of my backyard, far from my house; I can even spot the dent on the side of it.

I don't buy into the existence of ghosts and monsters that could be any worse than the ones I encounter daily on the sidewalk, so this event isn't the work of supernatural beings too.

Someone must have slipped into my bedroom—probably through the balcony—and left it here.

Why?

Easy; to give me a fright.

No need for any deeper or complex deductions.

A closer look at the box not only revealed the dent, confirming it's the same one I kicked out of my house minutes ago, but also unveiled a small, black card nestled on the teddy bear's stomach, waiting to be read;

"Great," — I shrugged, tearing the note into shreds — "So, you're about to witness firsthand what happens to idiots who even think to mess with me."

Chuckling shattered card into the box, I snatched it up and stepped to the door, swinging it wide open and striding down the corridor toward the stairs.

I'm not letting anyone make a fool or a nutcase out of me.

Especially not in such a pathetic way.

Seriously, someone actually thinks I'd shit myself in fear at the sight of a box in my bedroom and freak out like a baby?

Nope, someone got the wrong address;

It might work, but under the roofs of these LA cowards, especially Elena, who'd kick off her hysteria and manic theatrics just to catch the attention again.

I still can't wrap my head around how some pathetic, attention-seeking, spineless, self-centered crybaby could have any spotlight.

Her biggest achievement is literally getting herself into trouble just so someone—mainly Jake—can swoop in and save her, fueling her ongoing drama.

She always manages to twist every situation to make it all about her anyway.

The mere thought of her made me cringe in disgust, and a pulsating ache throbbed through my head as I raced down the last step, finally reaching the living room.

Not missing a beat, I strolled past the small wooden cabinet, effortlessly sliding open the shelf to grab the XXL nail polish remover bottle;

"Let me guess, cameras in the teddy's eyes, huh?" — I smirked, nudging the drawer closed with my thigh, watching it snap shut as I made my way toward the basement doors — "Classic."

As I descended the stairs, venturing deeper into the shadows of the dark basement, I yanked out one of the teddy bear's eyes and crushed it in my hand.

But when I opened my hand, all I found was black plastic, the broken bits of the eye;

With no sign of a camera in sight.

"Hm..."

I exhaled, checking out the pieces in my hand, and casually bounced against the wall at the bottom of the stairs, flicking my arm to click the light switch.

"Shame," — I shrugged, tilting my head and scanning the room — "Was hoping you'd be front row for my little game-changer."

Basically, this spot could be just a chill basement, where we stash all the stuff that doesn't quite belong upstairs.

But this it not.

I mean, at first glance, it's just your typical basement vibe with random stuff scattered around. But trust me, a few taps on a few buttons here and there, and this place transforms from a chill hangout to my command center, where I keep tabs on everything and everyone.

...And where I run my little operation of torture and games.

Yeah, I've got the thing.

Oh, and there's this ancient, crusty furnace that's been begging for a cleanup, but I've been putting it off all the time.

I live by the mantra of "no need to rush," trusting that solutions often present themselves in due time; tonight proves my point perfectly— the furnace will finally get its moment, and I'll breathe new life into it.

With a creak, I swung open the rusty door and tossed the whole box inside.

Ripping off the bottle cap with my teeth, I popped it open and slickly doused the entire box and teddy bear with the chemicals, soaking them completely in nail polish remover.

I even chucked the empty bottle into the furnace, right alongside the box.

With my gaze fixed on the box, I reached for the matches chilling on the fireplace mantle, smoothly sliding one out.

I sparked it up;

Flicked it into the furnace;

And let it burn. 

Just in time, my dark eyes lit up with the flames, casting a fiery glow on the box and teddy bear drenched in chemicals, as they were devoured by the fire without mercy; leaving no hope of survival.

"Lie an eye on me again, and I'll rip it out just like I did with that teddy bear, Motherfucker." — I mumbled under my breath.

Shutting the furnace door with force, I locked it tight to keep the basement from reeking of chemicals and smoke and swiveling on my heels, I made my way back upstairs, aiming to return to my bedroom.

Leaving it all behind;

I let it all smoothly turn to ashes;

And that's life.

At the end of the day; you all will end up as ashes—with or without anyone's assistance.

Good luck.

As I closed the bedroom door with a satisfying thud, a wave of tranquility washed over me, accompanied by a soft smile;

This time, everything felt right in this room—no surprises waiting, no eerie sensation of being observed, and not a hint of suspense lingering in the air.

Just peace and quiet.

"Ah, what a wonderful life."

With a satisfied grin, I clasped my hands behind my head and flopped onto the bed, sinking into the welcoming embrace of the soft covers below.

The only thing that gets me thinking is, who could it have been this time?

Well; Seth's just the latest in a long line of my antics, but that doesn't mean the list of potential pranksters is any shorter.

Plenty of groups, cliques, or even solo players out there would love to get back at me for all my slick maneuvers, whether it's for swiping something or knocking off someone, but I doubt anyone's got the guts to come at me like that directly.

No doubt, running through all the people I've messed with doesn't give me a clue about who might be behind this.

But one thing's for sure; that move was downright stupid, no question about it.

He's just not aware of that yet.

My train of thought was abruptly interrupted by two buzzes from my phone, one after the other, as it lay on the nightstand, casting a gentle glow across the room with its notifications.

"And that's how the beautiful charm went fuck itself,"

With an eye roll of annoyance, I brushed my hands over the covers, propping myself up against them and, with a strong push, I shifted position to sit up straight.

"Alright, who's calling for the Dark Lady this time?"— I let out a sigh, reaching up to grab my phone and waking up the Lock Screen;

"Yep, that's convincing enough for me to get my ass out of here." — I raised an eyebrow, tossing the phone onto the bed as I stood up — "I was sick of this wooden den anyway."

Without a second thought, I headed over to my wardrobe to pack up all my gear and bounce from this place;

Let's just say I thrive on freedom, and anyone getting wind of my current location would put a damper on my global escapades.

Plus, I might be hot as fuck, but orange isn't my color, so a prisoner's jumpsuit is totally out of the question.

Neither did I let anyone catch me months ago, nor am I going to let anyone catch me now or in the future.

There's no way anyone's catching me;

I am impossible to be caught.