28. Madelyn
MADELYN
I’m going to commit a felony. Because of him. Because of all this shit he’s making me go through.
As if I didn’t have enough with telling Kayden I love him after having him between my legs with his tongue inside me. I may love him, I do.
But I didn’t want it to come out that way. Or at that time. I’m not even sure who or what I want right now.
That’s why I have to do this. Stop my stalker. Peel off his mask. See who he truly is.
He should let me decide for myself if I want him or not. It needs to be over tonight.
I don’t need an anonymous stalker who’s constantly seducing me with danger and teasing me with sex toys.
I’m confused enough as it is.
So, here I am, ignoring the grunt in my stomach while Hannah finishes hanging the last decoration for our haunted house on the ceiling, and I hold a ladder open for her.
Once done, she steps down, and we move the ladder to a corner of the room.
The whole first floor of the school is covered in black fabric, the walls creating a big fat shadow.
Skeletons and bats hang from the ceiling, and bigger statues of different types of monsters stand by the entrances of classrooms where teachers dressed in black gowns with masks will be popping up to scare off students.
It may not be scary in itself, but with the lights off and having no idea where you’re going, it’s a whole new experience.
We head to the teachers’ lounge to pick up our things. We’re the last ones at school. Everyone else’s duties for the charity event are done. Decorations in place, snack table prepared with dry snacks, ticket box in order, gowns and masks have been given out.
“Wanna go grab a bite together?” Hannah asks, slinging her handbag over her shoulder. “I feel like splurging today.”
“I’d love to.” I pout. “But I have some grading to finish up here first. You go ahead and treat yourself, babe. Don’t want to delay you.”
“You are not.” Hannah folds her arms. She’s willing to wait for me.
“It’s okay. I’ll be here for a while. Workaholic and all.”
“Girl, that’s an ick.”
“Strong independent women are an ick for you?”
She nudges me. “I just wish you’d enjoy yourself more. Where’s the Maddy I met last time we went out?”
“I left her at home,” I say. “Last time she went out, her date turned up missing.”
She winces. “Okay, girl. But that’s not on you. You know that, right?”
Hannah massages my arm. Her phone pings, and she takes it out and smiles.
“Blondie?” I ask.
“Yep. He wants to meet for dinner.”
“Perfect then.” I press my hands together. “Go have fun.”
She’s been seeing Blondie from the pub ever since that night, and she comes to work glowing lately.
Apparently, Blondie himself is feeling down because of Lucien’s disappearance, so he’s always texting her for emotional support.
She doesn’t mind, and she’s keeping me updated about Lucien, too, whose location is still unknown.
“I’ll see you tomorrow night, then. Yay, for working on the weekend.” The sarcasm in Hannah’s voice makes me giggle.
“Yay!” I shake both my fists in triumph. “It’ll be so much fun.”
“Manifesting,” she says, pausing for a minute. “Alright. I’m going to stop talking and go. I think Joseph’s still around if you need him. He’s supposed to lock everything.”
I wait until she leaves to do what I need to do, making sure she exits the school before I put my plan in motion.
Of course, Joseph being here is a downside I didn’t expect. I’ll have to be cautious.
I’m pretty sure he didn’t lock any rooms yet, since we’re both still here and the lights are on everywhere.
Before I get to the real spying, there’s something else pressing on my shoulders.
Something that had slipped my mind with everything going on, until Hannah’s conversation reminded me.
I forgot Lucien’s finger in my drawer. I need to get rid of it before it stinks the whole place up.
Or before Joseph moves things around while cleaning and finds it.
I rush to my classroom, still watching my back.
What do you do with a severed finger?
Shred it in the shredding machine? That sounds…gruesome. I shake my head.
Flush it down the toilet? Nope. It could get stuck and clog it.
Dumping it somewhere with flowing water sounds better. The ocean, maybe.
I’m by my desk, with a lump in my throat, my breath heavy as I prepare myself to see it again.
Pulling the drawer open, a scream almost comes out of my mouth but stops mid-action.
The finger isn’t in it. Instead, another familiar gift box, the size of a shoebox.
A black bow decorates it, in contrast to the red box.
I take it out, praying there’s not another severed body part in it.
Sighing, I pick out the new present.
A pair of white panties. A soft-looking pair. Silk, maybe.
On top of it, a rose. It’s real, the flowery aroma is fresh.
We’re past the point at which I’ll find anything my stalker gives me romantic. But, it kind of is. Underwear and a rose. I wish he would have led with it.
Underneath it, more white wrapping.
It becomes evident very soon that there’s another present inside.
Undoing the white wrapping paper, I catch sight of a pair of pink sneakers that’d go well with my outfit. A pencil skirt, a blouse, and a choker all in pink. On the sneakers, an inscription in red ink.
Mine. On both sides of the shoes.
I let out a laugh.
This is unbelievable.
Of course, the typical note is stuck to a corner of the box.
I pick it up and read it.
Your outfit for our first official date, my wife.
I roll my eyes as I examine the panties. I can’t trust that they’re normal. Putting them aside, I pick up the shoes. They’re my size. How does he know my size?
You’re curious, aren’t you? The letter continues.
I heard you woke up without any panties today, so it only seemed right.
I groan. A clear admission that it was him who took my panties. Who marked my skin.
The freaking tattoos that are difficult to wash off.
And the shoes? Well, you’ll need them for comfort.
Wear them, my wife. Wear them and let’s play.
I’ll be watching.
I bite my lip out of anger and frustration, not temptation. Though the idea of wearing special panties is intriguing.
I stuff the panties inside the box and close it, leaving it on my desk and storming out of the room.
I’ve had it with this guy.
I have to do this. I need to find out who he is. I need to get to the security footage room.
He was here and left this present, some camera must have caught him.
I didn’t want to do this but it’s my last resort.
As I try to keep up with the speed my legs are leading me in, my phone pings in my pocket.
Unknown:
You didn’t think I wouldn’t have taken care of the cameras, did you, wifey?
I stop. Of course he did. How naive of me.
“Fuck.”
Ping. Another text message.
Unknown:
We will. Soon. *Wink emoji*
I shake my head. He can hear and watch my every move. I still can’t understand how he’s doing this.
This time, I don’t hold myself back.
I take a deep breath and stretch my arm to flip my finger to wherever he is, making sure I cover every corner of the hallway so that he sees me clearly.
“Fuck you.”
Ping. I flicker my eyes to the screen of my phone.
Unknown:
Stop being impatient, my wife. I know you want me. And you’ll have me.
“That is not what I—” I hiss. “You’re out of your mind.”
Unknown:
Maybe. Doesn’t change what’s about to happen. Now, go back to your class and wear the panties.
“No.”
Unknown:
Listen to your husband.
“You’re not my husband, Devon. That’s your name, isn’t it? Who even are you? And why the fuck did you think it was okay to tattoo my whole body while I was asleep?”
Unknown:
You told me to, baby. You wanted me to visit you while you’re unconscious. Claim you. I just claimed you in a different way than what you anticipated.
“It was a trap,” I call out. “I was trying to get you.”
Oh, crap. I shouldn’t have said that.
Unknown:
Well, it worked. You’ve got my full attention. And don’t worry, those tattoos are temporary. But we’ll make them permanent later. With your full permission. And you will give me that permission.
“That’s it.”
I make my way to the teachers’ lounge again, where my bag is, so I can leave this place, get out of here.
Fuck my plan, fuck everything.
I’ll have to find another way to bust this psycho’s ass. He has no intention of meeting me, seeing me, or giving me what I need. He’s toying with me, teasing, torturing me for his own pleasure. He’s all talk and no action, and I’ve had enough.
He’s made my decision for me.
“I’m leaving,” I announce, heading toward the front door.
The lights start flickering as I rush through the hallways, holding onto the strap of my handbag. Chills run down my spine.
What the hell?
I sprint to get to the door as fast as I can and turn the handle.
Twist. It doesn’t budge. I’m locked in.
Ping. Ping.
My phone.
I pick it out of my bag, hold it tight in my hand, and read the message.
Unknown:
I don’t think so. This game just started, and you’re the star, my wife.
The lights go out.