The wind slammed the door again. It echoed through the hallway like a scream swallowed by the walls.
I couldn't move. My feet felt glued to the floor. The air smelled like wet leaves and fear.
Caleb reached for my hand. "Sophia, we have to go. Now."
But my eyes stayed on the stairs. In the space where the masked man had stood. He was gone, but my skin still tingled where his gaze had been.
I whispered, "How did he get that photo so fast? It just happened."
Caleb shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe he was already watching. Maybe he never stopped."
My heart twisted. My throat felt tight.
We went back into the living room. Caleb locked the door behind us. "We grab your bag. Just one. No noise. No lights."
"Where will we go?"
"Someplace quiet. Someplace with people. He won't follow us there."
But I wasn't sure. That man—whoever he was—wasn't afraid of locks, or storms, or even being seen.
He wanted us to see him.
I ran upstairs fast, heart hammering. My fingers shook as I grabbed clothes from drawers, stuffing them into a duffel. My hands brushed over soft lace, then denim, then the corner of a photo frame. I paused.
It was a picture of me and Daniel. From last year. My eyes were bright. His hand on my waist.
I stared at it.
Why did this hurt more now?
Why did I think of Daniel's voice saying, "Smile for me, even when I'm not there"?
I dropped the frame face down and zipped the bag.
Downstairs, Caleb waited by the door. His shirt clung to his chest, damp from sweat or rain. Maybe both.
He looked at me. "Ready?"
I nodded. But I wasn't.
The moment I stepped outside, the wind hit my face. Rain dripped down my neck. I looked behind me.
The house. Still. Watching.
The camera above the door blinked red. Still recording.
Caleb pulled me toward the car. "Go. Fast."
We ran. Water splashed under our feet. I slid once, almost fell, but Caleb caught me. His hand on my waist steadied me. I looked up at him.
Our eyes locked.
I should've kept moving. Instead, I leaned in.
Our lips touched. Just for a moment. Soft. Quick. Desperate.
The kiss tasted like fear. Like goodbye.
Then we were inside the car. Doors locked. Engine on. Wipers smearing the rain like tears.
Caleb pulled out of the driveway. I didn't look back. I couldn't.
But in my head, I saw him. The mask. The red smile.
He had seen everything.
We drove in silence. The night stretched on. The streets were wet and empty.
Caleb didn't speak. His jaw was tight. His hands gripped the wheel like he was trying to crush it.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"Motel. South side. Cheap. Safe."
"Safe?" I laughed, bitter. "He was inside my house. My room. My closet. He left notes in my jacket. He knew about us."
Caleb didn't answer.
I watched the rain race down the windows. I pressed my forehead to the glass. It was cold.
"Do you believe me?" I asked.
He didn't look away from the road. "Yes."
"Do you think I'm crazy?"
His voice was soft. "No."
I turned to him. "Then why do you look scared?" He blinked. Swallowed hard. "Because I am."
I nodded. Because I was too.
The motel was small. One floor. Flickering sign. A man at the counter barely looked up as we checked in.
Room 9.
The lights buzzed when we stepped inside. The air smelled like lemon cleaner and something old.
I dropped my bag on the chair. Sat on the bed. The room spun a little.
I stared at the floor.
"Sophia."
I looked up. Caleb stood across from me, his face unreadable. He stepped closer.
I felt the heat from his skin before he even touched me.
"We shouldn't," I whispered.
"I know."
But he came closer anyway.
His hands brushed my hair away from my face. I closed my eyes. My breath caught.
His lips touched my forehead. Soft. Slow. Then lower. My cheek. My jaw.
I leaned in.
When our mouths met, it was on fire.
We kissed like we were falling. Like the world had cracked and we had nothing to hold onto but each other.
My hands clutched his shirt. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me tight.
I didn't care that we were running.
I didn't care that someone had watched.
Right now, I need to feel wanted. And I did.
But in the back of my mind, a whisper curled like smoke.
He saw this too.
Later, I sat wrapped in a towel, hair damp, heart racing.
Caleb was in the shower.
I stared at the motel phone.
Should I call Daniel? Tell him? Would he believe me? Would he be angry? Scared? Or worse—would he know?
I shook the thought away.
No. Not Daniel. But the smell on those feathers. The speed of those photos. The old voice in my head.
Smile for me.
I stood and walked to the window. Pulled back the curtain. The parking lot was empty. Except for one car across the lot. Engine off. Windows fogged. Headlights dark.
I squinted.
Was someone inside?
I stepped closer to the glass.
Then a flash.
A red dot like a camera. I gasped. Stumbled back. The curtain swung shut.
The bathroom door opened. Caleb stepped out, towel around his waist.
"You okay?" He asked.
I nodded too fast. "Yeah. Just cold."
He didn't ask more.
But my hands were shaking.
Because I knew.
He had followed us.
He never left.