I felt a chill run down my spine.
The man I adored, the man I thought was my hope, stood in front of me holding a knife.
Blood dripped from its tip, slow, with a steady rhythm splattering onto the tiled floor like it had all the time in the world.
"Come here, love."
My head shook on its own. I moved backward, inch by inch, careful not to make any sudden movements.
My heart slammed against my ribs, loud enough that I was certain he could hear it. Afraid that if I breathed too hard, I might agitate him and it would cost me my life.
"What did you do?" My voice came out thin. Strained, like it wasn't mine.
He tilted his head, studying me the way one examines a puzzle already solved.
"I protected you," he said calmly.
He paused.
"I protected all of us."
He gestured widely with his hands.
"We're safe now."
He said each sentence separately, slowly, as if giving me time to process them. As if I hadn't just watched him kill Liam while smiling, while smiling like it was the most amusing thing in the world, like it was art.
My stomach twisted.
Liam lay lifeless near the kitchen counter, eyes open, staring at nothing. There was so much blood. Too much. I couldn't remember screaming, but my throat burned like I had.
My thoughts spiralled in a frenzy.
Run.
Fight.
Protect yourself.
Do something.
Anything.
But my legs refused to move.
They felt stiff. Weak. Like if I tried to run, I would collapse before I made it three steps. My body had betrayed me, frozen me in place while danger stood inches away.
I had always hated horror movies, the ones where the characters just stared, wide eyed and useless, when they should have been running. I'd yell at the screen, frustrated, furious.
At some point I'd even wondered if they wanted to die.
'Did I want to die?', I thought to myself.
"Don't look at him like that," he said softly, noticing my eyes flicker to Liam's body.
"He was going to hurt you. I couldn't let that happen."
"You killed him," I whispered.
He smiled.
Not wide. Not manic. Just… pleased.
"I saved you."
Something inside me snapped, I had to figure something out, I wouldn't go down like this.
Just a quiet, internal war raging in me.
He took a step toward me.
That was when my body finally listened.
With whatever strength I could muster, my hand shot out and grabbed the first thing within reach, a can of curry powder sitting on the table. My fingers fumbled with the lid, my breath coming in sharp gasps.
"What are you..."
I flung it.
The powder exploded into the air, a bright orange cloud swallowing his face. He yelled, stumbling back, the knife clattering to the floor as he clawed at his eyes.
I didn't wait.
I bolted.
Out of the apartment. Into the hallway. My feet hit the stairs hard, too hard, nearly sending me tumbling forward. The elevator doors were open, waiting, but there was no way. I couldn't stand still. I couldn't risk being trapped.
Adrenaline carried me downward, flight after flight, my lungs screaming as my mind screamed louder.
I called Adrian.
No answer.
Aria.
Straight to voicemail.
James.
Nothing.
I kept running.
Out onto the street, the night air slapping against my face. I turned left, toward the police station, never looking back. Fear burned hot between my shoulder blades, convinced that if I turned, even for a split second, he would be right there.
Waiting, and that moment of vulnerability would be all he needed.
My chest hurt. My legs felt like lead. Tears blurred my vision, but I didn't stop. I couldn't.
When the police station finally came into view, relief crashed into me so hard my knees nearly buckled.
I stumbled inside.
Officers rushed toward me immediately, one of them locking the door behind me as if they sensed something, as if they sensed someone was coming.
"Ma'am," one of them said, steady hands gripping my shoulders. "What happened?"
The room tilted.
My ears rang.
The last thing I saw was the bright white of the fluorescent lights overhead before everything went dark.
When I woke up, I didn't ask where I was.
I already knew.
And deep down, beneath the fear and the nausea and the horror, one thought echoed louder than the rest:
He was still out there.