20. Ember
Ember
I woke slowly, realizing how early it was.
There was barely any light coming in from my window which meant I still had time to rest. My body felt heavy, but in a good way.
I laid there in the quiet for a little while, wrapped deep in my blanket.
Not only did my head feel clear, but my chest wasn’t tight for once.
If I didn’t know better, I’d say I actually slept well.
When I finally blinked fully awake, my hand drifted across the nightstand to my phone.
The screen lit up as I brought it closer, seeing no new notifications.
I didn’t know why that made something in my chest dip slightly, but it did.
In some small way, I'd hoped he would message me, but maybe this was another test, another way to show he owned me.
I clicked on the last message he had sent me as my thumb hovered over the keyboard. I stared at the screen for a second before frowning and closing out of it. I exhaled quietly, letting my head sink deeper into the pillow.
Why was this so hard? It was just a simple text to the man who’d been stalking me. I pressed my lips together, then typed again as I sat up.
Hey.
The message was a simple one, with nothing behind it. I clicked send and took a deep breath. As I did so, I registered something across my room. I pushed myself up against my headboard. My gaze drifted, unfocused at first. Then it narrowed in on my vanity, and everything in me stilled.
I moved off the bed and reached for the light switch. As brightness flooded the room, my eyes settled back on the mirror. There, on the glass, written in thick jagged lipstick strokes were the words:
I will never stop.
My body went rigid at the sight, and I knew something was wrong. A small white envelope was next to the mirrored glass.
What the actual fuck.
The paper was bright white, with my name scrawled in black across the top. For a split second, I convinced myself I imagined it. Then, I envisioned just tearing it up. The idea of torching the paper even filtered in, but I needed to know what was inside.
Letting courage replace my fear, I grabbed the envelope and opened it slowly.
Not knowing what to expect, I braced out of instinct—like whatever was inside might explode.
To my surprise, the contents seemed to be quite small and spilled out onto the floor around me.
Pictures, each one falling like broken glass.
Dozens of them.
Each one was a different polaroid. Yet, in all of them I was sleeping.
I bent to grab them and realized what I was looking at.
In some, I had clothes on, but in others, I was completely naked.
The room around me swayed as I picked up more, shots where my legs were spread open.
Tears fell down my cheeks as I went through each one.
Someone had been in my room, watching me.
Someone had been taking pictures of me, taking advantage of me.
Someone who didn’t plan on stopping.
The panic hit fast as I scooped the photos up with trembling hands.
Clutching them to my chest, a few more tears fell out of pure, unsolicited anger.
When I finally slowed down my thoughts long enough to process them, I forced myself to look at each one again.
Moving over to my bed, I spread them across the blanket.
There was only one person who could be responsible for this—one person who I had almost chosen to let in.
Inhaling deeply, I walked into my bathroom to find the lighter I kept next to my candles.
After grabbing it, I returned to pick up the first photo.
Flicking my thumb, I watched it curl and blacken in my hand.
One by one, I burned them all, letting the ashes fall across my bed like dark snow.
When the last picture was gone, I stared at the crumbles of what was left. “You can fuck all the way off.”
A million different emotions filled me, all morphing into a combined weight that settled deep in my chest. Through shaking hands, I shuffled to the mirror and pressed against the words on the glass, rubbing once.
As the lipstick smeared, I watched the lines blur into distorted red smudges.
This was my room, my safe space. How dare he trespass here, and how dare he take those pictures of me.
Pulling my hand back to me, I looked down at my palm that was now crimson-stained.
This was the same color I’d worn the first night with him—a thought that only enraged me further.
Pressing my hand back to the mirror, I laid it flat against the sentence, dragging it down and scraping it sideways.
I then moved in circles, breaking every letter into nonsense.
I didn’t stop until the message he left was an unrecognizable mess. The more I smeared, the better I felt.
Acting on impulse, I grabbed a glass of water from next to my bed and threw it towards the mirror as a final act of defiance.
The splash coated everything, causing color-stained water droplets to run down in slow movements.
Through the streaks, I caught my reflection. Angry, flushed, scared…and done.
I had loved the two nights with him, and every exhilarating feeling he’d given me, but this was all too much. He was a monster, and he was after me.
A ping notified me that a text had come through.
Ember, it’s not what you think. I’m on my way to your house.
I immediately threw my phone. I think the fuck not.
My phone buzzed on the floor, an insistent vibration that meant someone was now calling.
I didn’t reach for it, but I watched the screen and the way the word blocked kept coming up over and over again.
He wouldn’t stop, just like the note had said.
I stared for a while, at the way it lit up repeatedly, but then it hit me—he could see me.
I looked around my room and guessed at what gave him that kind of power. He had even told me last night that he had that kind of access, which meant he could see everything. He knew where I was, and he had just watched me open that envelope.
I grabbed my phone and ordered a car. I needed to leave. Now. The phone vibrated again in my hand as I set it on my bed. Flipping it over, I pressed it face-down against the comforter.
I could almost hear Silas in my head, Answer me, Ember.
No, I was done listening. Most of all, I was done with him.
The phone buzzed again, and something in me snapped. I grabbed it, not to answer—but to end it.
Holding down the power button, I smiled as the screen went dark.
Now, there was no presence of him. I moved fast, grabbing nothing but my shoes.
I knew he could be tracing anything, so I didn’t overthink it.
If I stopped, if I hesitated, I’d start to feel him again—like a hand on the back of my neck, guiding me back into place. I couldn’t let that happen.
By the time I walked outside, the fresh air was a welcomed friend. I needed it to help me breathe, to function. Inhaling deeply, I thought about my next step. I didn't know where I was going to go, but I knew I couldn't be here when he showed up.