Chapter 42

It’s been nearly three weeks since...everything happened. I asked Slater about Heather’s body, but his response was cryptic, leaving me with more questions than answers. He assured me not to worry, claiming he had it handled, but the uncertainty gnaws at the edges of my mind, making me restless and unsettled.

The mention of his father only adds to the tension between us. Slater’s gaze darkens with barely contained rage at the mere mention of him, a silent reminder of the secrets that lie buried beneath the surface. Despite his absence, his threatening presence looms over us like a dark cloud, casting a pall over our fragile peace of mind.

In spite of Slater’s comforting presence, the weight of recent events hangs heavy over us, casting a shadow on our budding relationship. Each night, as we seek solace in each other’s arms, the echoes of our shared trauma linger in the air, haunting our thoughts and dreams.

I find myself unable to think about that day, but the memories haunt me nonetheless. It’s not easy to reconcile with the fact that I’m a murderer, even though I don’t regret saving Slater.

Slater had dragged me back to campus after just one night at my mom’s house - I think he was eager to avoid having to explain our lie to her - but I’d not been able to sleep in my dorm room since that night.

After three days of living in a state of constant anxiety and looking and feeling like shit because of the lack of sleep, my friends intervened and reached out to Slater, and he insisted I stay with him after he found out it was impossible for me to sleep in my own room, the memories of that fateful night too vivid to bear alone.

His private apartment, tucked away from the prying eyes off campus, offers a sanctuary of sorts, a refuge from the chaos that surrounds us.

Yet, despite the intimacy of our shared space, Slater remains distant, his affectionate gestures tinged with a hint of restraint. It’s as if he’s holding back, keeping me at arm’s length while he grapples with his own demons.

I understand the need for space, for time to process the events that have shaken us both to our core. But as the weeks stretch on, the silence between us grows deafening, a silent barrier that threatens to divide us.

I yearn for the easy camaraderie we once shared, the playful banter and shared laughter that defined our friendship long before our budding relationship began. But as the days pass, I can’t shake the feeling that something has shifted between us, a fracture in our connection that threatens to tear us apart.

I cling to the hope that time will heal the wounds that bind us, that eventually, we’ll find our way back to each other. But for now, all I can do is hold on tight and weather the storm, praying that our love will be enough to see us through the darkness that lies ahead.

“I’ll see you at work later, okay?” Slater asks, drawing me from my slightly melancholy thoughts.

“Sure, I’ll see you there,” I reply, forcing a smile to mask the nerves that churn in my stomach. Tonight marks my first shift back at the bar since everything unfolded, and despite Slater’s insistence that I take some more personal time, I can’t shake the feeling of apprehension that gnaws at the edges of my mind.

Slater’s concern for my well-being is touching, in its own way. He’s been unwavering in his support, urging me to prioritize self-care and rest. But as the days stretch on, his constant presence feels stifling, suffocating me with its intensity.

I long to immerse myself in the familiar routine of school and work, to lose myself in the hustle and bustle of the bar. But Slater’s insistence on my well-being leaves little room for compromise, his protectiveness bordering on overbearing at times.

Still, I know his intentions are pure, his actions driven by a desire to shield me from further harm. And for that, I am grateful.

But as I prepare to face the challenges of the night ahead, I can’t help but wonder if his concern will ultimately smother the spark of independence that flickers within me. If, deep down, he’s not a little controlling like his father.

After Slater leaves, I take a moment to gather my thoughts before reaching out to a few friends to catch up. Their voices, filled with warmth and laughter, offer a welcome distraction from the weight of recent events, easing the tension that had settled in my shoulders.

As I chat with them, the familiar routine of getting ready for work begins to soothe my frayed nerves. I select a simple yet stylish outfit, slipping into it with practiced ease. With a final glance in the mirror to ensure everything is in place, I grab my essentials and head for the door.

Despite knowing the bar is just a short walk away, Slater”s insistence via text on calling a cab catches me off guard. I protest, assuring him that I”m perfectly capable of making the journey on foot, but he refuses to budge, his concern for my safety unwavering once again.

With a resigned sigh, I accept his gesture of kindness, knowing that arguing further will only prolong the inevitable. As the cab pulls up outside the bar, Slater meets me, pressing a handful of bills into my hand, insisting that he cover the fare.

“Thank you,” I murmur, touched by his thoughtfulness.

Slater smiles, his eyes softening with affection. “Just promise me you”ll take care of yourself, okay? Tell me if it’s too much or too soon to come back.”

I nod, offering him a reassuring smile before walking into the bar. I can”t help but feel a pang of gratitude for Slater’s kindness. He’s nothing like his father, and I feel guilty for feeling smothered by him before.

As the night wears on and my shift at the bar progresses, I find myself growing increasingly jumpy, my nerves on edge as shadows flicker in the dimly lit corners of the room. Each sudden movement sends a shiver down my spine, my senses heightened as if anticipating something lurking just beyond my line of sight.

I catch glimpses of fleeting figures out of the corner of my eye, wisps of darkness that seem to dance in the periphery of my vision before disappearing. My heart pounds with each sighting, a cold sweat breaking out across my skin as fear tightens its grip on my senses.

The sound of laughter echoes through the crowded bar. It”s a familiar sound, one that sends shivers down my spine as memories of Heather flood my mind, her laughter like a ghostly echo from the past.

In my heightened state of anxiety, my hands tremble as I reach for a glass, the fragile crystal slipping from my grasp and shattering against the hard surface of the bar. The sound reverberates through the room, drawing startled glances from patrons as shards of glass scatter across the floor like fallen stars.

I curse under my breath, my cheeks burning with embarrassment as I quickly move to clean up the mess, my hands shaking as I sweep the broken pieces into a dustpan. But even as I work to restore order, my mind is consumed by the echoes of laughter that linger in the air, a reminder of the ghosts that haunt me even in the most mundane of moments.

As the chaos of the bar begins to subside and my nerves continue to fray, Slater appears at my side like a reassuring anchor in the storm. His presence is a welcome respite from the unsettling events of the evening, and I find myself leaning into his steady embrace, seeking solace in the warmth of his touch.

“Cora, are you alright?” Slater”s gaze meets mine, his eyes filled with concern as he takes in my trembling form. Without a word, he wraps an arm around my shoulders, offering silent support as he guides me toward the exit. “Let’s get some fresh air for a minute.”

The cool night air hits me like a wave as we walk outside, a stark contrast to the stifling atmosphere of the bar.

“I’m taking you home,” he declares firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. I feel wrung out and exhausted, I’m not about to fight him.

Maybe it was too soon to return to work. Maybe I’ll have better luck going back on campus and attending my classes in person.

Slater speaks to Shelly quickly and then he’s leading me to his car, his movements purposeful yet gentle as he helps me into the passenger seat. As he starts the engine and pulls away from the curb, a sense of relief washes over me, the familiar hum of the engine soothing my frazzled nerves.

We drive in comfortable silence, the soft glow of the streetlights casting a warm, golden hue over the city streets. I find myself lost in thought, my mind still reeling from the events of the night, but Slater”s reassuring presence by my side offers a sense of calm amidst the chaos, especially when he reaches over and takes my hand in his.

As we pull up outside Slater’s apartment, he turns to me with a soft smile, his eyes filled with understanding. “I know exactly what you need to relax,” he says gently, his voice a soothing melody in the darkness.

I nod gratefully, trusting him implicitly and finding solace in the warmth of his embrace as he leads me home.

As we enter his apartment, a flicker of anticipation dances in the depths of my chest, my hopes rising at the prospect of finally finding solace in Slater’s arms physically. But as he leads me into the bathroom, my heart sinks with disappointment as I realize his intentions.

Slater runs a bath with practiced ease, the sound of running water echoing softly in the tiled room. He lights candles, their warm glow casting a soft, flickering light across the room, and my hopes soar once more at the romantic gesture.

But as he turns to me with a gentle smile, I can see the weight of responsibility in his eyes, the burden of his own demons pressing heavily upon him. “I want you to relax,” he says softly, his voice tinged with concern. “You”ve been through a lot tonight, and you deserve some time to unwind. Have a nice bath and get an early night. Don’t wait up for me.”

I nod, trying to mask my disappointment with a forced smile. He’s not even staying with me, he’s going back to work. “Thank you,” I murmur, the words feeling hollow on my lips as I watch him go through the motions.

As Slater disappears from view, leaving me alone in the dimly lit bathroom, a sense of loneliness washes over me like a wave. The sound of his footsteps fades into the distance, leaving me to soak in the solitude of my own thoughts.

I sink into the warm embrace of the bath, the scent of lavender filling the air as I close my eyes and let the soothing water wash over me. But even as I try to find peace amidst the tranquility of the moment, a part of me can”t shake the feeling of longing that lingers in the depths of my soul.

As the minutes tick by, I can”t help but wonder what might have been, my mind drifting to the possibility of finally finding comfort in Slater”s arms. But as reality sets in, I realize that some wounds run too deep to heal in a single night, and that sometimes, the greatest act of love is knowing when to give someone the space they need to heal.

If I knew exactly what he needed, I’d give it to him. If I thought taking charge would help him, I’d do it in a heartbeat. Or I’d submit to him, and all of his desires if that’s what he wanted. Give myself to him…if I could. I’d do it, but I doubt that’s what Slater needs.

The candle lit room casts an ominous vibe, and I can’t help but think of my masked man. Of the rough way he treats me. Of how he takes from me, with no mercy, and no remorse.

He forces me to submit, and I’m powerless against him and his passion.

Guilt snakes through my heart, as I think of my masked man in a moment like this, when I should be thinking of the man that drew this bath for me in the first place.

One moment, my eyes are drifting closed, and the next, I’m drowning.

I can’t catch my breath. My mouth opens and fills with water. I try to sit up, but I’m held down. Strong arms hold me below the surface, choking me. The grip on my throat is iron tight.

I thrash, and fight, clawing at the skin…no, the gloves.

Fear and desire are at war, but my racing heart picks up speed. My lungs scream at me, and my vision starts to fade to black.

Suddenly, the hands are gone. It takes a moment for my brain and body to register that we’re not being held below the surface, and I sit up, gasping and coughing as my body fights to suck in air.

I look around, searching for my masked man, as I clutch my neck.

There’s no one there.

I’m alone.

Did I fall asleep, and imagine the entire thing?

Did I almost drown myself?

Shaking, I stand and climb out on wobbly legs, grab a towel, and quickly dry off. Slater’s plan for me to relax has well and truly backfired.

In a daze, I put on my pajamas and dry my hair. I do my nightly routine, shut off the lights, and climb in bed.

As I drift off to sleep, all I can think about is my desire for two completely different men. The one who owns my heart, and the one who owns my body.

The next morning,the bed is cold and empty on the side where Slater usually sleeps. The covers seem undisturbed too, and I get the feeling he didn’t come home last night. Or maybe he did, and he slept on the couch because he didn’t want to disturb me. I don’t know.

I roll over and stretch, checking my phone for the time. It’s five in the morning. God knows why I’m awake, but I know that I won’t be getting back to sleep any time soon.

The apartment is shrouded in darkness, the only light filtering in through the thin curtains. I sit up in bed, my mind still foggy from sleep as I try to make sense of the events of the previous night. The memory of nearly drowning in the bath sends a shiver down my spine, and I can’t help but feel a sense of unease settle in the pit of my stomach.

With a heavy sigh, I swing my legs over the side of the bed and pad barefoot across the room to the kitchen. I flick on the light switch, the harsh fluorescent light momentarily blinding me as I blink away the remnants of sleep.

As I wait for the coffee to brew, my mind wanders back to Slater and his absence. A pang of loneliness grips my heart, and I can’t shake the feeling of longing for his comforting presence by my side. Life was so much easier when he was protecting and looking out for me. A part of me resents him for leaving me alone in such a vulnerable state last night, for not being there when I needed him most.

Then I immediately feel like a dick for thinking that way when he’s facing his own trauma and trying to just get on with his life. I can’t help it though. The more he pulls away, the more I wonder if he resents me for what I did. Heather was his aunt, after all.

The bitter aroma of coffee fills the air, grounding me in the present moment. I pour myself a steaming cup and take a seat at the small kitchen table, cradling the mug in my hands as I stare out into the empty room.

No, there’s no way Slater would resent me over her death. Heather was evil. I don’t know all of what she did, but I know I saved Slater by killing her.

It should be enough to reassure me and free me of the guilt I’m feeling, but I’m all knotted up inside still. What if he regrets kissing me before all this happened. Now that I’ve seen what Heather was doing to him, maybe he doesn’t want to be with me in that way, but he doesn’t know how to let me down. He’s always trying to do the right thing, be the good guy, so of course he’d invite me to stay with him and would hold me in his arms while I cry myself to sleep after waking from a nightmare. But that doesn’t mean he wants me to be his girlfriend.

I can’t continue like this, stuck in limbo with Slater and torn between two men who offer me different kinds of solace. One who stirs my heart with tenderness and understanding, and another who ignites a fire within me that threatens to consume everything in its way.

I need to confront my feelings and make a decision. I can’t keep floating in this limbo, torn between two worlds that offer me such different paths. With a newfound determination, I set down my coffee cup and move to the bathroom to wash and brush my teeth. I’m going to get dressed and go and find Slater.

We need to have an open and honest discussion about our relationship and where he sees it going. I don’t even think we can work. My mom wouldn’t like it, and his father…well, I’m terrified of what Sean’s reaction would be.

I head back to the bedroom to get dressed, pulling on clean underwear and leggings from my haphazardly packed bag. I’m all out of clean shirts to wear, but I’ve mostly been wearing Slater’s things around the house anyway. I open his closet and sift through the hangers, cursing when an item slips off. Bending down to retrieve it, I notice a small black drawstring bag at the back of the closet.

Curiosity piqued, I reach for the bag and pull it out. It’s surprisingly heavy in my hand, and as I loosen the drawstring, a glint of something metallic catches my eye. Peeking inside, my breath catches in my throat as I see what lies within - a gun.

My heart races as I carefully inspect the gun, feeling a wave of unease wash over me. Why would Slater, a man who values peace and harmony, have a gun hidden in his closet? My mind races with a thousand possibilities, each one more sinister than the last. Or perhaps he acquired the gun for protection, a precaution against potential threats that linger in the shadows.

As I hold the gun in my trembling hands, I can’t help but feel a sense of betrayal creeping into my heart. How well do I truly know Slater if he keeps such a dangerous secret from me? The weight of his absence in the apartment looms over me, casting yet another shadow of doubt on our relationship and everything we’ve been through together.

With a deep breath, I carefully place the gun back into the drawstring bag and return it to its hiding place in the closet. My mind is made up - I need answers, and I need them now. Slater may have his reasons for keeping this from me, but I refuse to let this revelation drive an even bigger wedge between us.

Determined to seek clarity and confront the truth head-on, I grab one of his hoodies and pull it on, then I reach for my phone and keys before heading out of the apartment. The early morning sun casts long shadows on the empty streets as I navigate my way to where Slater might be - the campus library. My heart pounds with anticipation and fear as I prepare myself for whatever revelations may come to light.