Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 24205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
All that just for him to disappear again, leaving me with this haunting sense of him not really being gone. I hated feeling like this. I wanted to believe I was a smart, capable young woman that had a good head on her shoulders. Now after an impromptu reunion and one night of endless fucking, I wondered if I needed therapy.
If it had been a one-night stand with one of those random jocks or even Liam, I knew I would have woken up and gone about my life just fine. The problem was him. Lucian wasn’t some random guy or stranger.
As I lathered conditioner into my hair, I heard the door open and shut once more.
“Mara?” I called, the water drowning out my voice. No reply came.
After a few more seconds of silence rolled by, I mentally shook my head at myself. I was all too aware of the vulnerability that came with being ass naked and alone with only bottles of shampoo and body wash as weapons. I hurried through the rest of my shower, relaxing when I finally heard Mara’s voice through the door.
“Hurry up! Everything’s ready.”
“I’m getting dressed!”
Wrapped in the warmth of my towel, I moved to the steamed mirror, wiping away the condensation to look at my reflection. My eyes, a bright shade of blue green, gazed back at me.
They were the one feature that never failed to draw attention, standing out against my warm brown skin and current hair color—metallic silver. I applied my facial products and then ran a comb through my hair, the long strands cascading over my shoulders and down my back, the natural darkness at the roots blending seamlessly, a small concession to practicality in my otherwise meticulous appearance.
At average height, my body was a blend of soft curves and lean muscles, a testament to my athletic days. It was the subtler shape of my hips and noticeable roundness of my backside—which I got from my mama—that created a balanced silhouette.
Slipping into my patterned Christmas pajamas, the soft fabric hugged my form, providing comfort and warmth. By the time I emerged from the bathroom, Mara had already taken the liberty of choosing our movie for the evening—Black Christmas.
With the early onset of darkness typical of winter evenings, and steady snow beginning to fall outside, we nestled under blankets on our sectional, spiked cocoa in our hands. The movie's eerie glow cast flickering shadows around us, lending an atmospheric contrast to the comforting cocoon we had built from pillows and warmth. As the classic horror unfolded, the irony of our choice wasn't lost on us.
Inside, we were snug and secure, while outside, the campus lay deserted and silent, wrapped in the creeping embrace of a snowstorm's solitude. My phone began to ring, slicing through the suspenseful atmosphere of the movie. The screen lit up and I felt a sense of deja vu. Without a second thought, I dismissed the call. Not even a minute later it started again.
“Who is it?” Mara inquired, her eyes flickering over to me with curiosity.
“Unknown number. Probably that prank caller again.”
Without hesitation, Mara leaned over and snatched the phone from the couch beside me. “Let's see what they want.”
As soon as her thumb pressed the speaker button, the familiar riddle about the lamb echoed out.
“Will you be the lamb at the altar, or the hand that wields the blade?”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Mara’s expletive was sharp. There was a pause on the other end of the line, a moment of silence that hung thick with anticipation. Then, a low, unsettling laugh echoed through the speaker before the line went dead.
“What the hell? Is this the creepy ass call you got earlier?” Her voice was a mix of anger and confusion.
I shrugged; my own bewilderment mirrored in my voice.
“Yeah. Clearly someone with too much time on their hands.”
No sooner had I spoken than my phone buzzed with a new message from the same unknown number. I hesitated, a feeling of dread knotting in my stomach. Curiosity won out. I unlocked the screen and there it was, a message that read: This is our favorite part of the movie.
Mara leaned over, her eyes scanning the text before shifting up to meet mine, a silent question passing between us.
We turned our attention back to the television, where a classic scene unfolded—an unsettling image of the shadowy figure in the attic, eye glinting through the crack in the door, watching, waiting.
It was a scene designed to evoke fear, to remind viewers of the presence of something sinister lurking just out of sight.
Much like the person on the other end of the phone.
CHAPTER FOUR
The movie was paused, the screen frozen on a frame that no longer seemed important. I paced the short length of our living room, trying to figure out who would be calling me. Not only that, but who knew I was watching a movie.