Page 26 of I Will Break You
Last night, I imagined myself in bed with you tucked at my side. I wanted to press a kiss on your temple while you spoke to me in that sweet, sleepy voice.
Are you trying to drive me insane? That clip of you in the burgundy gown is seared into my mind. I want to see what’s beneath those lace cups and enjoy more than a half-second tease of your pussy.
Tell me what it will take to see more of my precious jewel, and it’s yours.
Xero.
P.S. I recorded my reaction to your video clip. Expect to see it tomorrow.
SIXTEEN
AMETHYST
Upstairs at Relaney’s place, I lie within a surprisingly clean room decorated in white. She set my overnight bag at the bedside while I was still reeling from being mentioned in the séance. That, along with the words fuck, kill, and claim, not to mention the little explosion, would be enough to make anyone question their own skepticism. Maybe that’s exactly what she planned.
Relaney explained that the spiritual realm was mysterious and that I shouldn’t take what Xero said to heart. When I asked about the unsettling language, she said he was probably still processing the violence of his crimes.
I still can’t make up my mind.
Moonlight streams in through a chink in the curtains, illuminating the empty side of the bed. After ten minutes of not being able to sleep, I lean across the mattress, reach into my overnight bag, and pull out a bottle.
I gulp down mouthfuls of water, trying to wash away the unease of staying in a strange house occupied by even stranger men. The four I met tonight seemed alright, but they’re nothing compared to some of the other characters I’ve seen leaving Relaney’s at all times of the day and night.
After downing half the bottle’s contents, I flop back on the bed and sigh. Xero’s spirit, or whoever was impersonating him,disappeared before I even got a chance to explain why I left him at the altar yesterday. I don’t know how JakeRake69 got hold of that picture of me as a child or what it means. My troll died before I got the chance to ask.
The only people who can answer those questions are Mom and Dad.
Moments later, my eyelids grow heavy and I melt into the mattress, my body dragging me to sleep. Disembodied thoughts swirl through my mind like wraiths, haunting the beginnings of my dream.
What if I wasn’t hallucinating and Xero really is haunting me for revenge? Everyone else who has wronged him is dead, except for me. I fall into a vortex of the events of the past day and a half, my thoughts spinning until everything goes black.
Hours pass, and a floorboard creaks, waking me up with a start. My eyes flutter open. The room is so dark that there’s little difference between my surroundings and the patterns behind my eyes.
An outline of a hooded figure emerges at the foot of my bed, its eyes emitting a faint, silver glow. I try to jerk awake, but my body won’t move.
I know this state: sleep paralysis, where the mind is awake, but the body is still stuck in REM. Focusing on my breathing, I command myself to twitch a finger or a toe.
The figure drifts toward me, its movements so fluid that it must be a dream. Its glowing eyes lower to the level of my face. I stare ahead, unable to rotate my eyes.
This is just a dream.
I don’t need to panic.
So why is my heart galloping across my chest like the March Hare being chased by a feral Cheshire Cat? I want to close my eyes, but they won’t move.
The comforter slides off my shoulders, down my chest, and gathers at my waist. Even though I had the good sense to sleep in my clothes, a cool draft still penetrates my hoodie. My breath quickens, and I concentrate every ounce of effort into moving my pinkie.
Cool fingers ghost down my neck and lift the slider of myzipper. They draw it down gently, exposing my skin. Underneath, I’m wearing a sports bra and tank top, but I can already feel my nipples tightening.
After opening my hoodie completely, a cool hand slides over my breasts, making me exhale a soft moan. The touch is gentle yet determined enough to not be a figment of my imagination.
Chills run down my spine and settle between my legs. My clit awakens, and the muscles of my pussy spasm.
I want to tell myself this isn’t real. It’s a dream brought on by Officer Vayne reading out my somnophilia fantasy.
The fingers roll my nipples, infusing me with sparks of sensation. My back wants to arch, and my body craves more. I’m so touch-starved that I’m picturing Xero escaping his cell to reenact some of the fantasies in his phone calls and letters. I swear I can hear his deep groan.
Xero was so perfect for me, so generous with his time, and so understanding of my dark past. All he asked for in return was the short window of time before his execution, and I left him hanging.