Chapter Five
Damon
I’M IN THE control room getting ready to do a final run-through of all the rooms to make sure everything is in order and my remote is working when she walks in.
Her long, blonde hair flows in waves down her back. She’s wearing a black skirt and little black ankle boots with a heel. Her head swivels frantically around the doll-themed room, and when she turns, I finally get a look at her beautiful face, leaving me just as awestruck as when I first saw her.
· · ·
Nine Years Ago
The front door opens, and the sound of teenage girls’ giggles fills the house.
One of them is definitely my sister’s, but the other is new.
It’s soft and melodic; the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.
I stop washing the dishes and grab a towel to dry my hands as I walk into the other room to see who that dream-like sound belongs to.
That’s when I see her. Long, blonde hair flowing over her shoulders, and the most beautiful light-gray eyes I’ve ever seen.
I stop dead in my tracks, stunned by the sight of her.
My heart rate picks up, and I’m not sure what to do.
It feels like I just stumbled upon a bunny in a flower bed.
I stare at her, not blinking, trying to not even breathe, terrified if I move or speak that I’ll scare her away.
“Hey, Damon, this is my new friend Violet.” My sister interrupts my spiral.
“Hi,” I croak out. My brain is fried, every thought consumed by this girl in front of me.
“Hi,” she says with a soft smile.
Think of something to say, you moron, I chastise myself.
The small smile still graces her lips, but she looks down at the floor. Is she shy? How could a girl like this be shy? My mouth opens and closes as I try to think of what to say to her.
“Anyway . . .” My sister finally saves us all from the awkward silence, scrunching her face at me. “Violet’s going to help me with my English assignment, and then she’s staying for dinner, if that’s okay? Is Mom home tonight, or are you cooking?”
“She’ll be home late, so I’m cooking. Violet”—her name on my lips feels so right, like they were formed just to say it—“do you have any allergies or food preferences?”
“Nope. I’ll eat anything,” she says politely, just barely holding my eyes.
“Any favorites?” I ask, wanting to know her favorite everything.
“Alfredo, but just make whatever you had planned. I don’t need anything special,” she says, still not fully meeting my eyes.
You deserve everything special.
I give her a soft smile. “Alfredo it is. It’ll go great with the steak I thawed.”
She gives me another one of those soft smiles, and it makes me wonder what her smile looks like when she’s not using it to be polite. What did it look like when she was laughing just a minute ago? What can I do to make her laugh every day for the rest of her life?
“Thanks,” she says, and then they head upstairs.
Well, time to learn how the fuck to make alfredo sauce, I guess.
Violet and my sister become the best of friends, inseparable on most days. And I always try to come up with an excuse to be in the same room as them. I get less and less awkward every time I talk to Violet—or at least, I think I do. I get so tongue-tied around her, I basically forget my own name.
We’ve started texting, too, sending each other jokes and things that make us think of the other person, random thoughts throughout the day.
I love talking to her, love hearing her ideas.
On nights when she stays over, she and Alyssa tend to watch movies in the living room, and I almost always join them.
Usually, my sister falls asleep halfway through, and Violet and I forget the movie and talk instead.
She tells me of her dreams of getting out of this town, and I tell her mine, too.
“Maybe we could get out together,” she says one night, sleep pulling her eyelids closed.
“Yeah, maybe,” I tell her, but it likely won’t happen. I’m three years ahead of Violet and Alyssa, so I’m graduating this spring. I got accepted into MIT and received a full-ride scholarship from an anonymous donor.
Even though I know it means leaving Violet behind, I have to get out of this town. Too many nightmares haunt me here, too much pain.
But I know Violet, know how smart and strong she is. She’ll get out, too.
· · ·
Present
She’s even more beautiful than I remembered, especially with those gray eyes wide with fear as she takes in the room.
Violet was stunning in high school, but now she’s drop-dead gorgeous.
My fingers itch to grab her hips, pull her close to me.
A better man would go out and greet her like the old friends they are, make small talk about how we’ve both been since I left.
But I’m not a better man.
And I know from stalking her social media over the years that Violet has a preference for books about men wearing masks. I think she’d like it if I played with her.
Before I can stop myself, I slip on the mask I wear when greeting guests—and when torturing targets. It’s a black tragedy mask with scratch marks and blood covering it. A voice modulator in it deepens my voice, giving it an eerie electronic sound.
When I walk in, Violet is feeling along the edges of the door to the next room, likely trying to figure out how to open it. I’m silent as I walk toward her, my footsteps light so she doesn’t hear me coming.
I step up behind her, close enough that I can smell her sweet caramel and cinnamon scent, just like I remember. “The house isn’t open yet.”