43. FORTY-THREE
FORTY-THREE
“Mmh…” Half-asleep Finn mumbles while clinging to me. Even when he’s unconscious he finds a way to make sure he’s always holding on. The sun is gonna rise any second, but I didn’t really get much sleep after last night. “Bunny… So warm…”
As much as I want to feel content, my mind is still in survival mode. Although I really doubt things are gonna get bad unless I do something, it feels as though the walls could cave in at any moment.
I never really know what Finn is ever thinking, which is confusing when you consider the fact he’s horrible with managing his emotions. Shouldn’t this all be more obvious? His phone vibrates on the bedside table, and my heart skips a beat.
I shouldn’t. I really shouldn’t. But I do. As quietly as I can, I reach over his sleeping form to grab it. When he shifts I stop completely, before bringing it back down and pushing the side button.
It just opens. No passcode. Only a homescreen of me sleeping in his bed. It’s weird how peaceful I feel in his room. So tranquil in spite of everything about this situation. It’s honestly a little fucked up.
Instead of immediately calling for help, I open his texts to snoop like that will save my life. Nothing. Nobody. Only me, his boss from work, and his dad—although all those texts are maybe a year old at this point. How can someone live this way?
There’s no social media on his phone or anything. Does he really not talk to anyone? Even with my racing heart I feel some weird form of empathy bubble up in my stomach. Poor guy. Living like that would fuck up anyone.
With a little breath I open his search browser, only to be greeted with yet another image of myself.
This time it’s some mirror selfie I posted on Instagram years ago.
Every tab he has open on his phone is one of my social media accounts.
It would be frightening if I hadn’t already been expecting shit like this
“Bunny…” Sheets rustle as he nuzzles up against me, sniffling tiredly.
I should really put the phone back. I’m not going to get help, I just want to be nosy.
One older tab catches my attention though, a search: “how much midazolam is too much?” and other queries that only hammer in the fact he had no clue what he was doing when he decided to inject me with a literal drug.
Reality is sobering, seeing as he could’ve fucked me up even worse. What if the needle wasn’t clean and I got full body paralysis? Or he injected too much and I straight up died? How did he even get that? I really don’t want to believe he was doing some shady shit online, but how else…? How else?
It didn’t happen, though. So it's not worth being upset over, right? Closing the browser entirely, I navigate over to the photos. Of course there’s a plethora of stalker photos with me as the main subject, but neither those nor the random bottle of pills catch my full attention.
Because my house is all over his photos app. At least twenty photos of my home. Not me—but the entire fucking building. Every room from a bunch of different angles. Too many angles to be a coincidence. Did he seriously plan this whole thing out?
That’s as appalling as it is surprising. I always saw him as the “do first think later” kind of guy, but what if he’s not? Have I been underestimating him? Well, of course I underestimated him at least a little—my legs are proof of that.
Finn might stumble around as if he’s some weepy little puppy with his tail between his legs, but he isn’t helpless by any means. Not really. Does it mean he isn’t sweet? I don’t think so, but I don’t know. I don’t know anything.
Only a few weeks ago I was ready to end it all, and now I’m sleeping with him while he babbles on about marriage. It’s as funny as it is horrible. After putting the phone back my body sinks back into the mattress. No decision I make ever feels right. When did everything get so uncertain?
“Did you find what you were looking for?” His voice is thick with sleep, and I can’t tell if he’s upset or not.
“I was just, um...”
“I know,” Finn says while burying his face into my chest. “If it makes you feel better to look, I don’t have an issue with it. Got nothing to hide from my bunny…”
Letting my arms wrap around him, I frown. “You must have been so lonely…”
“I was.” He speaks so plainly, as though it really wasn’t anything at all. “But I have you now, so I’m not sad.”
His heavy frame rests on top of me, my fingers idly combing through his soft hair. For such a strong guy he really is so docile. So sweet when he wants to be. My dad would've had a field day with him.
“You’re not upset with me?”
Sun begins to peek into the room, rays slipping through the cracks of his curtains.
“No, I’m not upset.”
“You sure?”
“Duncan.” He finally peers up at me, with oh so very tired eyes. “Do you want me to be mad?”
My brows push together. “No, no… it's just… I feel like you should be mad.”
“You didn’t call for help,” Finn purrs with a confidence I didn’t know he was capable of. Bringing his face in front of mine, he's grinning from ear to ear. “You didn’t even try. You love me. You really love me.”
Idiotically, I just blush. Even if I want to smack that smug grin off his face, he isn’t wrong. Oh, how I wish he was wrong. “Well, I—you know… It’s…”
“You love me,” he repeats, “say it.”
“I…” I’ve said it before, but it isn’t exactly easy. Saying it means I’m ignorant. Ignorant of all he’s done, of how far he’s overstepped, and ignorant of how deep I’ve fallen. “I love you.”
But I have fallen, and I do ignore all of those things. It’s the truth, and nothing but. A truth I hate but one I can’t deny, either. Because I, against all my better judgment, have fallen for him. I’ve fallen for the man who took my already ruined life and destroyed it even further.