25. Chapter 25
Iwanted to walk Miles home, but he was having none of it.
Fluttering over me whilst I took my pain medication, he cleaned me in the shower, helped me dress and then tucked me into bed like a satisfied burrito.
Honestly, I’ve never come so hard in my life and I already want his dick in me again.
I feel cold, unsettled and empty. It’s not completely due to me wanting him to use my hole as his own personal sleeve, but the gnawing guilt that he surely must think I’m not completely his.
He wanted this open, slow and now we’re boyfriends, without having the exclusive conversation.
He told me to experiment and well, I don’t need to.
I don’t want to. All I want is him, forever.
I thought I’d been in love before, maybe when I was a teen, but this consumes my soul like I’ve found the other half of my heart.
We fused them together the moment he pushed inside me and there's no way I’m ever letting him go.
I’m in love with Miles, it’s as simple as that.
Grappling with the duvet to untangle myself, I reach out for my phone on the bedside table and know what I need to do.
Heading directly to my social media app, I find the only person I’ve ever messaged.
There’s no hesitation behind what I type out, hitting send without a second thought.
As my message pops up in our chat, at exactly the same time, two photos appear, turning the blood in my veins to ice.
If I thought the pain in my head I’d been experiencing was bad, the shattering of my insides and having the rug whipped out from underneath my feet hurts worse.
This…what the fuck is this?
I stare at a clear photo of Miles holding the same ghostface mask I’d stared into each time he played with me. Each time I submitted, let a total stranger touch my body…it was him the entire time.
He asked me if I wanted him to take the mask off and even though I said no, I think knowing who I am in real life rules out what I want. Did he pursue me? Has this all been some fucked up game to laugh at me later? Oh look at the weird shit Casper is into.
I want to hit my head all over again. Maybe that nausea can offset the one I’m feeling right now.
Two messages pop up immediately after he sends a video and I don’t even want to open it.
I know what it is, what I’ll see. Focusing on the photos again, I try to figure out every possibility that my masked stalker figured out I was dating Miles and wanted to make us break up.
It doesn’t make sense however, because he wouldn’t pretend to be him if he was trying to get rid of him.
This all doesn’t make any sense, but to really cement the betrayal, I stare at the messages he’s left.
@Yourghostboy: I love you, baby.
I’m sorry.
He thinks it’s acceptable to tell me he loves me, over fucking private message on social media? Hell no. Hell fucking no.
For reasons I can’t explain, this enrages me more than the fact that he’s duped me this entire time. Hiding his identity from me flops in comparison, because this fucking infuriating man thinks its acceptable to say I love you over message!?
At the same time a headache blooms in my temple, a calmness overtakes me.
It just washes everything away, apart from the thumping that spreads across my forehead too.
Letting my phone drop onto my bed, I ignore it as the screen goes dark.
My only focus is the throbbing pain now lancing through my entire head.
I wonder if there is anything I can do to make him feel this way.
Make him so overwhelmed his brain literally shuts down…
He loves me, but can’t say it to my face with the mask off.
Falling back onto my pillow, closing my eyes doesn’t ease anything and that’s how the rest of the night goes. I don’t sleep, can’t shake the pain that feels like it spreads through my entire body, pulsating, stabbing, gutting the breath out of me.
He loves me but can only hide behind a fucking mask account to tell me, like I’m something you can’t say that to in the day.
By the time light peaks in through the blinds I didn’t bother to close, it’s Halloween, Miles’s favourite day of the year and one he’ll never forget. I’m going to make sure of it.
I’ve been up for an hour already, putting my plan into place, taking a page from one of his beloved dark romances. I don’t know how much he’s going to like this though, but I'll for sure feel better.
Throwing the lilac glowing mask onto my bed, I hit stop on the camera.
My entire chest is covered in fake blood; crap I found in the kitchen drawers that Emery had planned to use for his vampire costume tonight.
I took that side-quest downstairs to take more medication, so my borderline migraine did subside.
The sticky shit drips down my abs but I ignore it, sitting on my desk chair as I spread my legs and edit the video.
I add a random audio that's a mash up of ghostface speaking from the first scream movie, and an eerie sound. It’s perfect, but it’s not important.
Hitting the right buttons to upload to social media, I write my caption and tag Yourghostboy.
Within seconds it’s out there live, the views already racking up and I receive many Halloween well wishes.
People freak out that I’ve directly tagged another masked man on the internet, but again, none of it fucking matters.
Rubbing at my temple, my hand shakes a little as I start to think over the to-do list I now have for today. A lot needs to happen before the big finale. I wonder if Miles ever imagined himself as a final girl? We shall see.
Staring down at my video, I smile at my caption, ready to end this nightmare of a chapter.
This isn’t a comedy, it’s a horror film. People live, people die and you’d better start running @yourghostboy.