Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 77775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
“Yeah, man. You don’t have to ask.”
I stare at him, eyes unblinking for several seconds. He doesn’t ask why or challenge me in any way. The relief that rushes through me is dizzying.
I think I’m actually going to like it here.
My bedroom overlooks the dark, imposing home across the road. A few lights shine through the windows downstairs, but other than that, it looks like a tomb. It’s hard to believe people actually live there.
Once I finish my nighttime routine and ready myself for bed, I turn off the lights and sit in the chair by the window. The wind howls outside, but it’s otherwise quiet. Out here, there aren’t noisy neighbors or cars or anything. It’s peaceful. Safe. Protected. I can see why Jude wants to preserve that.
I’m about to head for bed when I get the distinct feeling someone is watching me. All the hairs on my arms stand on end as a thrum of nervous energy buzzes through my body.
Sean?
I frantically search the shadows and the dense trees surrounding the homes and road. Nothing stands out or seems out of place. Still, I can’t seem to be able to stop my erratically beating heart.
If Sean is here, it’s over for me.
He will humiliate me in front of them just like he has all my other employers. If that doesn’t work, he’ll vandalize their property until they get sick of me being a liability.
Please don’t be Sean.
God, please.
A shadow moves and my eyes latch onto it. The outline is massive and bulky, immobilizing me with fear. But then I see the horrible, terrifying white mask.
Not my monster.
Their monster.
It’s just Jude.
Somehow, this brings me a tiny kernel of peace. I offer him a small wave to let him know I see him. As I close the curtains, he waits for a brief moment and then disappears into the shadows.
I’m still safe.
Thank God, I’m still safe.
Jude
He’s afraid.
Of someone or something, it’s hard to tell.
At first, I thought it might be me since we had a rough first encounter. But last night when I was watching him flit about in Callum’s swanky guest room, he’d waved to me from his window.
Hardly scared of the mask-wearing beast of Park Mountain.
That leaves me to think it’s something. A hidden secret I’ve yet to uncover.
Today, I plan to find out what that is. I woke up early, smashed my gym session, and am already in my office, ready to solve this mystery once and for all. I settle in my chair, pleased to find a steaming hot breakfast sandwich, a cup of fruit, and a fresh mug of coffee waiting for me. Violet is incredibly gifted at attuning herself to my weird schedules, anticipating my needs even before I can.
I lift my mask enough to shovel in food and once I’ve polished off my meal, I pull it down again, eager to start unraveling Tate’s life.
Three hours later, I hit the jackpot.
It’s taken some difficult searching, but I’ve found multiple email accounts with Tate Prince in the name with local IP addresses. I can tie each of them to where he’s lived over the past two years and even some from his places of work. Each of these email accounts’ creations line up with his abrupt termination of employment as well.
Intriguing, to say the least.
The passwords to get into these aren’t easy to hack into as he used a series of random numbers, symbols, and letters. They’re all different too. However, I do finally manage to breach the first one.
The inboxes are filled with people matching the clinic of one of the places he’s worked at. In the subject of each of these emails is: Could we set up a meeting to do this? The responses are all ones of outrage, horror, and disgust.
Sicko.
What the hell?
You’ll get fired for this.
This is sexual harassment.
Sexual harassment? Tate doesn’t seem the type, but people have fooled me before. Each email has a video attached. I click on one and open it.
The sight before me is hard to watch. Tate is on his knees, naked, with a fat dildo between his teeth. He’s crying and won’t make eye contact with the camera. The camera audio suddenly mutes and then Tate’s head snaps up, fear shining in his eyes. The audio returns, and without dropping the slobbery dildo, he whimpers out his words.
“Please fuck me with this. I can be your fuck toy. Please.”
He sent this to everyone at his job?
I’ve seen a lot of weird shit in my lifetime, but this takes the cake.
I’m sure there’s a why and possibly even a story behind this, but that doesn’t matter. I’ve finally discovered his big secret. He’s a kinky bastard who shares his videos with his coworkers. That’s enough for me.
I forward the email over to Dad and then bolt, abandoning my coffee altogether. Who needs caffeine when you’re running on the high of victory? Dad will shit bricks and can him over this. We, especially me, can all rest easy once he’s gone for good.