14. Sina
My apartment was quiet and just as cold as outside. I nudged the door shut with my foot and leaned back against it for a second, letting out a slow breath.
“Stupid landlord still hasn’t fixed the heater. Shock of the century. ” I crouched and set the fox down, rubbing my hands together. “Sorry it’s so cold.” I blinked. “Why am I apologizing to you? You don’t know what I’m saying.”
He wandered off like he owned the place, nose to the floor, sniffing along the baseboards, my shoes by the door, the crooked strip of peeling wallpaper I’d been meaning to fix since I moved in.
He paused at the window and stood on his back legs, peering out at the fog pressed thick against the glass.
“You probably feel stuck up here, huh?” I padded across the room to stand beside him. “I’ll take you back down in the morning. I promise.”
I regretted the promise almost immediately.
“Though if I’m being honest… you’re welcome to stay. Just don’t chew the exposed wires. I can’t afford to fix it and technically my landlord would be pissed since there's no pet policy.”
He chuffed a noise. I reached down and stroked behind his ears.
“Living alone is lonely as hell.”
The words landed heavier than I expected once they were out in the open. I stared around the tiny apartment.
“But this place… it’s mine . I worked for it. Even if it’s small and the heater sucks.”
I chuckled.
He leaned into my hand again, quiet and steady.
“This is the only place I feel safe since Logan died. Which feels stupid to admit, because it’s barely bigger than a shoebox and the front door to my building is never locked. ”
The fox turned to face me fully, eyes on mine like he was listening to every word.
“Sometimes I wish I had someone to share it with though. So yeah… I guess I’m glad you showed up.”
He pressed his head against my palm, and my chest loosened just a little more.
I huffed out a tired laugh. “ God . Listen to me. Trauma dumping on a fox.”
He didn’t move away. And for some reason, that mattered. I sniffled, wiping under my eyes with the heel of my hands, then blew out a slow breath.
“Alright.” I pushed to my feet. “That’s enough emotional sharing for one night. Let’s see if I can find you something to eat. I’m not exactly stocked up on essentials like a responsible adult.”
I crossed to the fridge and pulled it open, the weak little bulb inside flickering like it was just as tired as I was.
“Let’s see…” I mumbled, shifting things around. “Leftover Chinese takeout, eggs, milk that might be a biohazard, and… ketchup. Living the dream.”
I grabbed the takeout container and shut the door with my hip.
“Hope you’re cool with broccoli beef and white rice, buddy. Because that’s all I’ve got.”
The microwave hummed as I leaned back against the counter, watching him explore.
He moved slowly, nose brushing along the baseboards, my couch leg, the pile of mail I’d been pretending didn’t exist. He hopped lightly onto the arm of the couch, then onto the backrest, settling there to watch me with one blue, unblinking eye.
The microwave beeped. I jumped a little, then laughed at myself.
“Relax. It’s just food, not a bomb. ”
I grabbed a paper plate and dumped a little of the beef and rice onto it, blowing on it like that would magically make it fox-appropriate. I set it on the floor near the couch.
“There you go. Five-star dining.”
He hopped down, padded over, sniffed it once… and then looked up at me like I had personally offended him.
“Oh, come on. You’re a wild animal. You eat mice and trash. Don’t act picky now.”
He sat back on his haunches, tail curled neatly around his feet, gaze steady on me.
I stared at him.
“Wow. Okay. Judgmental.”
When he still didn’t touch it, I sighed and grabbed my own fork, climbing onto the couch.
“Fine. Don’t eat it. More for me.”
I took a bite, suddenly aware of how hungry I actually was. Halfway through the plate, I glanced over and found him still watching me, eyes half-lidded now, like he was more interested in me than the food.
“What?” I mumbled around a mouthful. “You’re the one who turned it down.”
He blinked slowly.
I rolled my eyes. “Great. Now I feel weird eating in front of you.”
He eventually hopped back up onto the couch behind me, circling once before settling along the backrest, close enough that his tail brushed my shoulder. The warmth of him seeped through my thin shirt, and I leaned back just a little, not enough to make it obvious.
I finished eating and set the plate on the coffee table. The apartment was quiet except for the faint hum of the fridge and the distant city noise outside. A dull ache had settled into my bones from the cold .
“I should shower. Hot water sounds amazing right now.”
I glanced toward the bathroom and imagined stepping out into the freezing apartment with wet hair and instantly grimaced.
“Yeah… no. Not happening. I’m not going to bed with wet hair, and I am way too tired to blow dry it.” I scrubbed a hand over my face. “Guess I’m just gross tonight.”
The fox made a soft sound behind me, almost like a huff.
I glanced over my shoulder. “Don’t judge me. You lick yourself clean.”
He tilted his head.
“You know what,” I said, pushing to my feet. “You need a name if you’re going to be my roommate for the night.”
He watched me as I crossed to the bed and pulled back the blankets. His white fur practically glowed in the dim light.
“Ghost,” I said after a second. “You look like a little ghost. Pale, quiet, showing up out of nowhere to haunt me.”
His ears twitched.
“Ghost. That fits.”
I crawled into bed, the sheets icy at first, and hissed. “Jesus, this place is a freezer. I’m going to complain to Timothy again tomorrow.”
Ghost didn’t hesitate. He jumped lightly onto the mattress and walked in a small circle before settling along my pillow. Then he shifted closer, curling between my shoulder and my ear like he’d done it a hundred times before.
I froze for half a second… then slowly relaxed. His body was so warm. I turned my face into his fur, breathing in the clean, wild scent of him. My arm came up automatically, hand resting along his side.
“Thanks for not leaving.” My voice was thick with sleep.
Ghost let out a soft, steady breath against my cheek. For a moment, I felt safe .
I should have known better than to trust that feeling.
My bare feet slapped against the pavement as I ran past neat rows of identical houses, the kind of cookie cutter neighborhood where nothing bad ever happened. The suburbs were meant to be safe. A place where we could live the ‘American dream’.
The word echoed in my subconscious. That's right . This was a dream. This wasn’t actually happening. I had escaped them.
My lungs still burned like I hadn’t. The realization always came too late in this nightmare. By the time my brain caught up, my body was already panicking, already running, my chest tight and my breath tearing in and out like I’d been running for hours.
I pushed myself harder as I rounded the bend, dread sinking deeper when recognition curled through me.
I knew this street. The mailbox with the crooked flag.
The driveway with faded hopscotch. The house with a skateboard left abandoned in the yard.
I had run past these houses a hundred times in my sleep.
Reliving that first time I tried to fight back four years ago.
I stumbled to a stop, bending over with my hands braced on my knees as my lungs clawed for air.
Every breath burned like I’d swallowed glass, but I forced myself upright anyway, panic shoving me forward on legs that already felt like they might give out.
Decision made, I lurched up the nearest driveway and pounded my fists against the front door hard enough to rattle the frame.
“Help,” I gasped, the word tearing out of me thin and ragged in the quiet. My voice sounded wrong to my own ears, like the younger, dumber version of me who still believed someone would open the door if she yelled loud enough.
Spoiler alert. They never fucking did. No one had ever protected me, and in the end, Logan always caught me.
Can’t stay here, it's not safe. He’ll catch me. I took off again.
Hot tears slid down my cheeks, not from fear this time, but from something heavier. Grief. Anger. The kind of loneliness that hollowed you out from the inside. I was supposed to have a different life. A home that felt safe. A husband that cared. Maybe kids one day.
Love.
God , I had been stupid .
A car door slammed behind me and the sound cracked through the stillness, my body reacting before my mind could catch up. I stumbled, barely catching myself on the edge of a mailbox, the metal rattling loud in the empty street. No porch lights flicked on. No curtains twitched.
Of course they didn’t.
Footsteps hit the pavement. Slow. Easy. He never ran.
“ Sinaaa .” Logan’s voice dragged over my name, taunting. “Baby. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”
Logan’s voice made my skin crawl.
My stomach twisted. I hated pet names. Always had. Baby. Sweetheart. Princess. Words that sounded gentle but closed like a fist. Words that turned me into something to be owned.
It’s a dream. You’re not here. I’m in my bed. I’m safe.
My body didn’t get the memo. My shoulders curled inward, chin tucking, arms pulling tight like I could fold myself small enough to survive. I hated that reflex—the part of me that still believed taking up less space meant safety.
Safety is an illusion .
More footsteps followed, and I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Instinct and trauma taught me to identify him by his stride alone.
Keith.
Icy fear clawed its way up my throat.
He wasn’t supposed to be here. This memory didn’t belong to him. No, his was much darker. Twisted and raw in a way that scared me more than Logan ever did.
“ No, no, no ,” I choked. “Wake up, Sina. Wake the fuck up.”
I grabbed fistfuls of my hair and rocked, eyes squeezed shut, trying to claw my way back to my body. I crushed the rising memory down before it could breathe.
Not that. Not that night. I couldn’t relive that. Please . Anything but that night.
Wake up, Sina. The voice was distant, muffled, like it had to fight through water to reach me. I couldn’t grab onto it.
Logan’s low chuckle swallowed the sound.
“You’ll always be mine, little mouse. You can run all you want, but I will always find you.”
It didn’t happen like this . This isn’t real. This is just my mind conjuring up every fear at once. A sick, twisted game. I was desperate to keep the other memory buried. The one clawing its way forward now that Keith was here.
I stared at Logan’s boots, refusing to look higher. If I didn’t see his face, maybe it wouldn’t feel real. Keith stepped closer, and the concrete warped, stretching him into shadows that bled toward me like oil.
Wake up, darling.
That familiar voice came again, closer this time. Urgent.
But I couldn’t. I fucking couldn’t .
A sob tore out of me, raw and broken, and then Keith's face pushed into view anyway, eyes glowing orange. His smile stretched wrong. Too wide. Too knowing.
That was my true fear.
Not Logan.
Him.