Chapter 8 #2
I don’t know why, but after talking to the police, knowing they don’t consider it an issue or something that even warrants a report, I feel calmer, somehow. Like their dismissal is feeding the part of me that wants to live in denial, and now I have a legitimate reason to.
“Maybe you should stay at my place for a few days,” Lena suggests, cautiously.
I shake my head firmly. “No.”
“Piper.” She leans forward, eyes wide with insistence. “You just said he’s broken into your fucking home. You shouldn’t be alone.”
“This apartment is mine, ” I say, more to myself than to her. “I have to stay.”
Silence settles between us, heavy but not hollow. I open my mouth, wanting to explain that I can’t leave. This is Teddy’s building, and he got it for me. It’s so much more than just an apartment, it’s my freedom. But… I don’t know how to explain any of that. So I just don’t.
Lena doesn’t press, but her frustration is a living thing. “Okay,” she says, backing off with a sigh. “Then we’re ordering takeout. My treat. What do you want?”
“Sushi.” It’s an easy answer, but nothing feels easy.
She nods, grabs her phone, and starts to order. I stand, the chair scraping against the floor, and turn toward my bedroom. “I’ll be right back.”
The familiar weight of the apartment settles over me, making me feel more certain that I’m not going anywhere. I get dressed—overwashed jeans, a long-sleeved black t-shirt—each piece like armor. The fabric is soft against my skin, a gentle friction that reminds me I’m still here, still me.
Before joining Lena, I dig around my closet for my spare mace spray and hide it under my pillow. There. If he breaks in again while I’m here, I’m prepared.
When the food arrives, we move to the living room, sitting together on the couch.
The light is too bright, too harsh against the dark edges of my tho ughts.
It all feels exposed. We eat in silence, each bite a pause, a punctuation, a truce.
I can feel Lena stealing glances at me, but she doesn’t say anything.
She waits until the sushi is almost gone, until my nerves have settled into something less raw, before she speaks. “I want to see them,” she demands.
I hesitate, knowing exactly what she means. “The pieces?”
“And the note. Everything.”
I stay still, indecision pinning me down, then nod and stand. “They’re in the desk drawer.”
Lena follows me, and I open the bottom drawer, revealing the small stack of black envelopes. I’ve kept them hidden, even from myself. I pull them out slowly, like they might detonate, and set them on top of the desk.
Her eyes widen as she takes in the amount. Raising an eyebrow, she looks at me. “Let’s open them.”
Together, we pour every black puzzle piece onto the desk. When I grab the envelope with the note, I hand it to her so she can read it. After she’s done, she places the puzzle piece next to the others.
“Wait.” My eyes fly across the pieces as I mentally count them. “There was no envelope this morning,” I whisper as I realize something is very wrong.
“Okay,” Lena says, dragging the word out. “That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”
I shake my head. “You don’t understand, Lee. There should only be seven envelopes, but there are eight.”
We count them out while arranging each piece until we’re sure we’ve only counted each piece once.
“Do you think he snuck one into your drawer when he drew on your mirror?” she asks, giving voice to a question I’ve already accepted as fact.
“He must have,” I mumble absentmindedly, more focused on moving the pieces around to see if any of them fit.
Two of the pieces fit together, and I stare at them, my mind looping through the implications. Nothing is visible on their black surfaces; no image, no letters. But it’s enough to know they connect. That it all connects.
“What do you think it means?” Lena’s voice cuts through the dense air, and I meet her gaze.
“I don’t know,” I murmur. “But something tells me he isn’t going to wait for me to figure it out.”
But what the hell am I going to do in the meantime? Just sit back and let this shit eat me alive? These puzzle pieces are fucking bullshit. He’s trying to scare me, and I’m feeding into it. Well, fuck that.
Making a spur of the moment decision, I swipe all the puzzle pieces into my hand. “Grab the envelopes and the note,” I tell Lena as I march into t he kitchen, and quickly swipe the pieces into the sink along with the envelopes she hands me.
Before she can ask me what the hell I’m doing, I reach for the lighter I use for candles, tucked in the kitchen drawer. Realizing what I’m up to, my bestie springs into action. Instead of deterring me, she throws the window open.
“Go ahead,” she says with a sharp nod. I strike the lighter, and the flame eats the puzzle pieces like it’s starving.
Cardboard curls, and black turns to ash. The smell of scorched paper curls into the air, acrid and oddly satisfying. I don’t say anything as I watch the fire, but with every piece the flame consumes, the more relieved I feel.
Before Lena leaves, we call a twenty-four hour locksmith, who, with the promise of a healthy tip, arrives within the hour to change my locks. With the new locks and mace under my pillow— just in case —I feel safe.
The police didn’t think it was an issue, so maybe this is all it’ll take. It’s like Professor Lynn once said, every obstacle can be overcome with the right strategy. And I think I’ve perfected that tonight.
Bone-deep exhaustion hits me the second Lena leaves, and falling asleep proves to be much easier than I thought it would be.