Chapter 26 Peanut Butter
PEANUT BUTTER
Anonymous-
I walk slowly, dragging each step on the way back to Andrik’s cabin after hours of gathering what she’d need.
I dropped by her apartment and grabbed only the things she’d miss. The ones that would make our new place feel like home.
Anna’s blanket from the end of her bed—she never sleeps without it.
The half-burned cinnamon vanilla candle from her nightstand—her favorite. She’s repurchased it fifty-six times.
The chipped “Go away” mug—her second favorite, ever since the beast shattered the first.
Her books, the ones with dog-eared pages and notes scribbled in the margins. Her fuzzy blue socks with the little moons. The watermelon chapstick she uses religiously.
A hair tie by the bathroom sink caught my eye. Still holding strands of her hair—dark, with the slightest auburn shimmer when the light hits it just right.
I slipped it around my wrist before leaving. I’ll never take it off.
I lingered longer than I meant to. Her apartment felt like a graveyard without her. She won’t be going back, so I brought the pieces she couldn’t live without.
Just enough to make her feel safe. Just enough to help her see—she belongs at the cottage... with me.
Next, I stopped by to pick up her self-care staples: rose hip shampoo and conditioner—it smells delicious. All her favorite makeup from Sephora. The perfume she spritzes on her wrists before leaving the house.
I stocked the cottage with her comfort foods: the spicy chicken ramen she makes when she’s sad and too tired to cook.
The iced caramel coffee she always orders, but never actually drinks.
I even picked the peanut butter chips out of her favorite trail mix. She hates those.
I want it to feel familiar when she steps inside. To see her handwriting on the sticky notes I peeled from her bathroom mirror. To open the pantry and know every shelf was stocked for her.
No one ever did that for me. No one ever made a place feel safe.
I know what it’s like to open a cabinet and find nothing behind it.
To be forced to do vile things just for enough scraps to survive.
She’ll never know that feeling. Not with me.
There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for her. Except let her go.
His cabin comes into view, and my thoughts scatter. I move to the window where I left the contact mic and slip the headphones over my ears.
I go still the moment I hear the panic in her voice. She’s talking about the asshole who toyed with her after Anna died.
I hold my breath for a full minute.
I hate it when she cries like this. It’s the kind of sound that makes you want to undo a man, limb by limb.
I never knew about the Polaroid he sent. It wasn’t his place to send a message. If I had wanted it dealt with, I would have handled it myself.
My fists are balled so tight my knuckles crack.
He pulls her to his chest. My skin itches.
He shouldn’t be holding her like that.
I lean my forehead to the icy glass and press the headphones tighter—like that may change what I’m hearing.
He doesn’t understand what she’s handing him right now.
Years of grief that I watched unfold day by day... he gets to learn it in a ten-minute conversation.
He cradles every cracked piece of her, but it’s me who kept those pieces alive. He doesn’t realize every heartbeat touching his chest already belongs to me.
Lumi-
The rise and fall of his chest anchors me. It’s the only way I know time is still moving.
His heartbeat is steady and loud. I count the beats until numbers stop meaning anything.
“You’re safe,” he whispers, his breath against the top of my head. I almost believe him... almost.
His fingers thread through my hair in a slow rhythm. Over and over again. Until my eyelids begin to droop, I’ve slept too much lately, but none of it has been restful. Most of it wasn’t even by choice.
The last thing I remember before I drift off is Andrik humming something soft against my hair. A melody I swear I’ve heard before.
When I wake up, he isn’t holding me anymore.
The room feels hollow without him. Overbearing and silent. There’s a note on the mirror above his dresser:
“Hope you slept well, beautiful. If I’m not back before you read this, I’m downstairs fixing the window, a ranch broke through it.”
I wrap one of his cloaks around me before heading downstairs. I sit by the fire, warming my hands for a moment—until movement at the edge of my vision.
He’s probably gathering firewood. I picture him chopping trees in slow motion, like those lumberjack thirst traps that always go viral.
I laugh under my breath and walk to the glass door.
He already has my boots lined up by the threshold.
I slip them on and step out into the cold, ready to tease him.
But the second I see the figure, I freeze.
That’s not Andrik.
A masked man stands just beyond the tree line, watching me. He tilts his head—slowly, curiously, like he’s studying me.
“My, my. You’re getting bolder, Lumi.”
That voice... it’s not possible. It can’t be. My body locks in place.
“No…” I whisper. You’re hallucinating.
He steps back and runs. I don’t even think, I just chase after him.
“Wait—!” I shout. “Stop!”
He’s so fast. My cloak whips behind me, tangling between my legs. The woods tear at me, branches clawing at my skin, snow lashing at my face.
“Mark!” I scream.
But the path is glitching. The trail warps around me. My vision doubles, trying to make sense of what I’m seeing.
“Mark, stop!”
He never answers.
There are no footprints, no proof he was just here—just snow and silence.
I stop, spinning in a slow circle.
“You were here...” My voice trembles. “I know you were here...”
Something solid slams into me. Warm arms wrap around my body, claws barely retract before stabbing straight through my skin.
“Lumi!” His voice cracks like he’s been holding it in for hours. “What in the world were you doing?” He growls, breath ragged. “I could smell your fear all the way from the cabin. Why did you leave? Didn’t you get my note?”
“I saw him.”
His whole body goes rigid.
“You saw who?”
“Mark.”
“You saw... Mark?” He repeats carefully.
“Listen, I know it sounds crazy, but I know what I saw.”
“Lumi...” His voice softens, and it infuriates me.
“Andrik. Please don’t Lumi me right now.”
He exhales through his nose, steadying himself. “I trust that you saw someone, but are you sure that talking about everything earlier didn't trigger something? Because Mark’s dead... right?”
Fuck! I know he’s dead.
I know it.
His eyes flick toward the trees, sharp and predatory, but his arms stay locked around me.
“Then we’ll check the perimeter together,” he murmurs.
I try to move, but my knees nearly buckle. It feels like wading through wet concrete. He crouches so his face is level with mine, hands sliding up to cup either side of my neck, thumbs brushing the base of my throat.
“Tell me exactly what you saw,” he whispers.
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
Because I know it was him. The way he tilted his head. The exact cadence of his voice. The same words he used at the bookstore.
You’re getting bolder, Lumi.
My stomach drops.
“He said it again,” I rasp.
Andrik’s brows knit together. “Said what?”
“The same phrase he used when he caught me following him. He even tilted his head in the same way.”
Andrik’s hands tighten a fraction. “Lumi... Mark is dead. We both saw him.”
“I know,” I whisper. “I checked. Over and over.”
A gust of wind rattles the branches. I flinch as my eyes scan the shadows.
“But he was here,” I insist. “Right over there, by the clearing. Watching me.”
He studies me for a long moment.
“Then let’s go look,” He says
“At... Mark?”
“Yes,” he says gently. “Let's go find Mark. I’ll take you to the place he died. The forest won’t have consumed him yet.”
Before I can answer, he scoops me into his arms. I don’t protest. I can’t. My mind is spinning, and my muscles won’t cooperate.
I don’t know how long we walk, but eventually he slows, before lowering me to the ground.
“He’s still here, Sael?n,” Andrik says softly, pointing to Mark’s corpse. “I left him where the forest could take him.”
The air leaves my lungs in a single, violent exhale.
“But I saw him,” I whisper. “I just saw him.”
He holds my gaze, searching for something in my expression.“Then we’ll keep checking the woods for whoever you saw.”
His arm slides under my knees, and he carries me deeper into the trees.
The forest blurs around me—snow, bark, breath. I squeeze my eyes shut, but I still see that mask—the tilt of his head.
It was Mark. It had to be Mark. But how?
“I’m not crazy,” I whisper.
“No,” he murmurs against my hair. “You’re not crazy. Not even a little bit. We’ll figure it out together.”
He keeps talking, but his words don’t land. My thoughts spiral instead, circling the image burned behind my eyes.
Mark’s body—the crimson snow surrounding it. The deep gouge marks down his face. Shredded nails, like he’d clawed at his skin until nothing was left. Lips pulled tightly over teeth that were far too white.
This isn’t grief. This isn’t trauma.
It’s real.
Something is walking in Mark’s shadow, and it’s following me.
“Lumi.” Andrik’s voice calls me back to myself. He’s pointing toward the cabin. I follow his hand with my gaze—
Just outside the front door, sits an obnoxiously large bouquet of snowdrops. Positioned deliberately so it can’t be missed. A sick little taunt of the nickname Andrik gave me. There’s no vase, just long green stems wrapped in—
My breath hitches.
Anna’s scarf is wrapped tightly around the stems, knotted into a bow like a present. The fabric still smells like the perfume I got her on her sixteenth birthday.
I fall to my knees, snow soaking through my pants as bile hits the ground.
Andrik gathers my hair back gently while I dry-heave.
“Breathe, Sael?n. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
But I can’t. It feels like there’s a chain wrapped around my throat. Like the air’s been siphoned from my lungs.