I don't know what to do with myself.
If I had any intelligence left in my confused head, I would run right out of this house and never look back. Daniel left. I'm alone. I'm free to go.
But I don't. And as I tremble with anxiety, I finally figure out why.
Even if the realization terrifies me, it's a salvation. If I leave now, there is still doubt. My conclusion will remain nothing but an assumption. If I stay, I can confirm everything, and then I'll know it's not me.
That I'm truly innocent. A mere target.
But why?
I didn't even know Daniel until all of this happened. We were neutral at first. We started bonding once we both observed the shadows, once he saw me crash and burn and stayed with me.
I can't imagine him killing my mother to get my attention. Hell, he didn't even know I wasn't getting along with her. He didn't know about Anika. And just imagining him strangling Steve makes me sick.
Nothing in his behavior even indicates that he is a crazy stalker. Plus, he's a detective, always busy with police work. He didn't have time to stalk me. Okay, maybe he had the equipment, but once again, why? What's in it for him? This is too complicated to be a crazy impulse. It would have been planned. It would have been executed with surgical precision.
I've grown to know Daniel. He would never do such a thing.
I falter as I realize I really don't know him. We met less than a week ago. And this house doesn't offer much information either.
Hugging my arms, I walk around the bedroom and take in every bit of furniture, every bare surface. In a show of bravery, I open his closet. It's filled with suits in different shades of blue and grey, as well as matching shirts and ties. In the back, he has jeans and t-shirts, most of them simple, some with what appears to be obscure metal bands on them.
He owns mostly shoes, with a few pairs of sneakers. His pajamas are plain. I don't look in his underwear drawer, but I know he likes black, tight boxers, and they look so good on him.
So maybe I don't know much about him, but I know what his body looks like, where his scars from training are, how he kisses and how he likes to cuddle after sex.
I know he's brave, intelligent, determined. I know he can see and understand things most people overlook. I know he's not quick to jump to conclusions and that he was always there when I needed him.
I grit my teeth and close the closet door. What's wrong with me? First I freak out over losing control and now I'm shifting the blame towards the only person who's been by my side through all this ordeal.
Why can't I accept that he just trusts me and believes in me? Why do I have to make it into something sinister?
Because it makes no sense.
I drop on the bed again, groan and clutch my head in my hands. If I'm not the one doing this, why is it happening? The death, the shadows... Everything. There needs to be a logical reason, or at least a motive. If it's not me and it's nod Daniel, it would most likely be someone I know.
As much as I rack my brain, I can't figure it out. The only two options are the same. Daniel is right about one thing. Shadows don't kill people. Which just leaves me and him.
"Still here?"
I jump and turn towards the door. Daniel is back, holding a suitcase. He places it by the foot of the bed and sits next to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.
"You look stressed."
I do my best not to stiffen, though my heart is beating so loudly, I'm sure he can hear it. Despite my better judgement, I am afraid. I'm too confused and burnt out to analyze everything and properly accept or dismiss my hypothesis. Maybe I'm right. Maybe I'm wrong. But if I'm writing, I'm forced to cuddle against the person who bled my mother dry. Who strangled my husband.
"It's been..." I can't finish the sentence and I let out a low laugh instead. It comes out incredibly nervous. "Well, a lot."
"Of course. It's only natural that it comes crashing down at some point. I'm sort of impressed by how well you're handling everything. And it's good to see you not blaming yourself." He smiles as he says this last bit.
He has a beautiful smile. I've noticed this before. Just like I've noticed that he's a gorgeous man.
Steve just died.
I suck air through my teeth and look away. I should not be here with Daniel. I should not be attracted and terrified by him at the same time. What am I even doing? But then again, what else can I do?
He frowns and glances down at me. The scrutiny is frightening and I'm sure he'll see the truth in my eyes, will realize that I'm now suspecting him of killing all those people. And if he really did it, I'm next. My heart stutters in my chest and I do my best to keep my breath even.
"You're exhausted," he declares.
"I'm... Yes, I am."
"You should sleep."
I definitely should, but I don't think I can. Because I'm still afraid I might kill someone else. I'm also afraid he will kill me or someone else.
"I'll watch over you," he says with a smile. "Make sure you don't go off killing people." He means it as a joke, but it hits much too close to home.
"And who's going to watch over you?" I ask before I can help myself.
I expect him to stiffen, to glare at me and show his darkness. Prove why I should have been a lot more cautious. Instead he just grins, a naughty glint in his eyes.
"I think that ship has sailed. Someone should've watched over me before I took you to bed."
He's teasing me as if nothing happened, as if we're here to retreat from the world and find solace. Even if I know better, it's so easy to take up his invitation, kiss him back, fall into bed with him. His body drives every dark thought out of my mind and I need it so badly, it hurts.
When I wake up, it's dark outside. Daniel is with me in bed, still naked, one arm draped around me. I allow myself all of five seconds to enjoy this before panic sets in again.
Did I kill anyone? Did he? At least he didn't kill me. My heart still beats like a drum against my sternum. The fact that I don't know is worse than finding an actual body. I can't just lay here with him pressed against mine. I need to move and I need to think.
As subtly as I can, I squeeze out from under his arm. It rests on the bed. He doesn't even stir, his face more peaceful than I've ever seen it. I swear, he looks like an angel. How could he ever hurt anyone? But then his distorted image comes to mind from when he was taken by the shadows, and I shudder. That person could very well kill.
What if both of us are actually innocent? What if those shadows could take hold of anyone and cause them to do anything? Get into people's minds and bodies and force them to do unspeakable acts of evil, maybe even to themselves. It would explain the lack of fingerprints and any other clues. The more I think about it, the more I believe that should I have done it, there would be other clues. Smudges, footprints... anything.
But then again, if the shadows truly did it, then why would they target me? I'm nothing special, no one important. Just a woman in a crowd of similar women.
This makes no sense and it's driving me insane.
I stand and pull on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, then let myself out of the room. Heart still drumming, I head down the stairs and stop in the hallway. The house is not too different from my own. The living room is to the left and the kitchen to the right. I head into the kitchen, my eyes scanning the floor. I'm not sure why I expect to find the destroy meatloaf there. That's in my house and it's probably gone by now.
Should I go home? Instead, I start searching the refrigerator for something to eat. It's full of healthy crap like fruit and vegetables and some green smoothies. No wonder he looks like that. But I'm stressed right now and nothing looks appealing. I need something sweet and unhealthy.
I close the fridge and walk to the overhead cabinets instead. Maybe he does have some snacks, at least some cookies. I only find canned vegetables and fruit.
With a groan I close the cabinet door and head for the next. Pasta and a box that could be for cookies or coffee. Even if I am almost certain it's coffee, I still pick it up to check. My hand freezes once I take it off the shelf. There's something behind it.
I put the tin box down and find a chair. Once I climb on it and have a clear view, I realize its a plastic bag filled with stuff. I wouldn't have given it a second glance if I didn't notice that one of those things is a picture frame.
Why would he be hiding a picture frame in the overhead cabinets in the kitchen? There is no answer that can be innocent, so my heart begins to pound again. In the back of my mind I know I should leave well enough alone and leave. Escape while I still can. But I can't.
With trembling hands, I pull out the bag. It's bigger and heavier than I thought and it contains the very things I've been wondering about. Trinkets and personal effects that were nowhere to be found around the house.
He must have hidden them precisely because I'm here. Because he doesn't want me to know... What? I can't even move anymore, my mind taking me back to that first time that I stepped inside this house.
He kept me in the living room the whole time. The place was messy, but there was nothing suspicious there. No photographs, no children's toys, no women's clothes. Maybe they were somewhere else. In the bedroom or any other room in this house. And now, photographs are hidden in the kitchen.
He's not alone in them. His arm is wrapped around a tall, blonde woman with blue eyes, so much more beautiful than I am. She grins at the camera, her eyes full of hope. In front of them are two children, a boy and a girl, with messy hair and grins missing various numbers of teeth.
The air in the room seems to disappear.
He has a wife and kids.
What am I doing here? Where are they?
I refuse to believe that I was too blinded by shock and grief to notice the obvious. Families leave a trace. There's no way he pruned his entire house of any clues regarding his family just to bed me when he could have easily taken me to a hotel or my own house.
There's a reason I'm in this house and they're not. And yet, I put the picture frame back in the bag, trying to ignore everything else in it, and start a thorough inspection of the house. There are no small clothes, no toys, no scent of a woman. No forgotten rag that could have once been a tiny t-shirt, no bikes in the garage. No extra phone or computer or toiletries.
Nothing. There is nothing to indicate that Daniel is not perfectly single, a detective obsessed with his work.
The thought sends shivers down my spine because it triggers something that I can't quite grasp yet. I busy myself studying the contents of the bag again. There are some toys in there, but only two plushies, and a half-empty bottle of women's perfume. The rest is trinkets and more photos of this woman and these children.
He has a family.
Or at least had one.
My thought process finally comes to an end, and I feel even more sick. This can't be it. It can't be happening.
I scour the house again, this time looking for a laptop or any device with access to the internet. I finally find it in the back room which has been converted to a home office. I didn't pay it much mind on my first walkthrough because it feels even more clinical than the rest of the house.
I head for the desk, aware that the laptop is most likely password protected. As it turns out, I don't need to even open it. I missed it from the doorway, but the desk is littered with documents. Paper cut-outs, official police reports, pictures... They're all part of his other investigation, the one concerning the man who supposedly killed his wife and kids in a fashion similar to mine.
It's why he believes me. He's seen this before. And looking at all the evidence he's gathered, it suddenly made sense why he did his very best to convince me that I am innocent.
Because if I am, then so is he.
He's the man who killed his family.
👥
Chapter WC: 2,223
Total WC: 29,355
Was anyone shocked by that? 😅 I think you may have already begun to suspect it at some point. But now you know why Daniel wants to believe so hard that Eva is innocent. Because if she is, then so is he.
But are they? And what will he do when he realizes that now she knows his secret?
Only two chapters left to end this. And it will most likely end in murder...
Thanks for your support!