This is Chapter 1 of a story I’m working on. I’m a few chapters in and have the storyline planned out. However I wanted to share the introduction to see if it’s interesting enough.

Chapter 1: The Mountain

It’s cold. I hate it. And the air is thin, which only makes it that much worse. My best friend raves about it up here. Life on the mountain is so wonderful. Either she’s lying or she’s insane, because I’ve only been here a week and I already feel like throwing myself off the side.

Honestly, I should just leave. But I have nowhere to go. If I did, I’d be there instead of freezing my ass off in the guest bedroom of Allie’s mountaintop hideaway. But here I am, tights, leggings, fuzzy socks, thermal, and sweater in the middle of March trying to get warm enough to get some work done.

“If you’d just gain a few pounds you wouldn’t be so cold. It’s really not that bad. It got up to sixty the other day,” Allie told me, after I had spent my first night shivering so hard that I couldn’t sleep.

Gain a few pounds? How about we just turn on the heat? Or better yet, we move back down into civilization where spring is in full swing and we can wear short sleeves without turning into popsicles.

I don’t mean to complain. I really don’t. She took me in, and I’m grateful. After I had ended my three-year relationship, I had no clue what I was going to do or where I was going to go. When you spend so long building something with someone, life kind of falls apart when the relationship does. I’m cold and hurting. And I just want to be back in my little apartment in the valley, where it’s rarely drops below seventy degrees. But I can’t go back. And no matter how much I hate this place, it’s a roof over my head and a bed to sleep on.

“I know you hate the cold, but you can’t tell me that that isn’t beautiful,” Allie comes up behind me as I stare out the large glass door that leads to the balcony.

She’s right. It is beautiful. I’m not used to all the trees and green. Not up close anyways. You can see a few other houses peeking out here and there. But they’re few and far between. She loves that. There is a tiny town a few miles down a narrow, poorly paved road. Once a week, she’ll drive there to pick up groceries and socialize. Then she holes up here for the rest of the time, knitting and editing manuscripts the publishing company she works for sends. I mean, it’s a nice set up. She makes good money and doesn’t even have to get out of bed if she doesn’t want to. But it has to get lonely and boring. There’s nothing to do and cable and internet can only occupy you for so long. I’m going to end up going stir crazy. How can you be productive when you’re so cut off from the rest of the world?

“So, you remember how I was telling you about that guy - the one that owns the online business and travels around giving lectures on how to start a company? Yeah, he asked me to come to his event in Arizona. He’s paying for the whole trip.”

I grab the cup of coffee she’s holding out to me and sit on the couch before replying, “Are you going to go? I thought you said he wasn’t really looking for anything serious and you didn’t want to waste your time? Or are you thinking about starting a business?”

She sits across from me in a large chair that’s layered with some of the knitted blankets she’s made since moving up here. “When he was here last month we had a great time. I wasn’t really expecting anything. But I felt that spark. And he says he’d like to explore things a little more. Plus, you’d get a week to yourself. It’s been years since you had that much time just for you. It might be nice.”

She’s right. I haven’t been on my own in years. Not for more than a few hours while Trey was at work. I hate it up here. But at least if I’m by myself, there’s nobody telling me to get out of bed or admire the beauty. I can turn the heat up a bit and sleep for a few days.

“When are you leaving?” I ask, trying not to sound too eager to be rid of her.

“Thursday. If you’re ok being up here alone.”

“Yeah, it shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll just get some work done and eat all your food,” I smile and joke.

“Yes! Eat it all. I keep telling you that you just need to gain a few pounds. I want to take you on that hike we used to talk about. But you’re so tiny I think you’ll disappear or freeze to death.”

I roll my eyes and sip my drink.

“You know I’m right,” she teases, adding, “Will you come into town with me later? A few of the neighbors are trying to get together and start a book club. That’s right up your alley. And it would be good for you to socialize with people other than me.”

“I socialize plenty. I was just talking to Edgar and Rosie this morning.”

“They’re cats. You’re counting cats as your socialization.”

“Are you saying cats aren’t people too?”

“They’re cats. I mean, I love my babies. But even if they do understand you, they don’t care. I’m pretty sure Rosie just pretends we don’t exist aside from meal times. And Edgar runs into walls. You need people who can talk back. And if the cats are, then I think you need to come to town for an entirely different reason. There’s a really good doctor there that might be able to help.”

Another eye roll. When I’m at my best, I usually have some witty comeback. But I don’t even care to try. I’m spending too much energy shivering for that.

“So yes? You’ll come to town with me?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Fine. But I’m not putting on makeup, talking to any men under forty, and if someone tells me I need to gain a few pounds, I’m waiting in the car.”

“No men under forty? Are you looking for a sugar daddy now?” It’s all teasing and jokes. We’ve always poked fun at each other, but I can tell she’s going out of her way to try to keep things light and cheer me up. It isn’t working. But it’s sweet she’s trying.

I fake a laugh, “Yes. That’s exactly it. I’m looking for a sugar daddy.”

She’s happy I play along. I can see it in her eyes. After a pleased smile, she stands, “Be ready in an hour. I don’t care if you’re still in your pajamas – I’ll drag you out to the car.”

An hour passes too quickly. A warm shower lulls my body into a false sense of security. It’s shocked back into shivers and aching the second my feet touch the tile of the bathroom floor. How do I dress for town? Will we be inside a house? Does everyone keep it as frigid as Allie? Layers. I’d rather feel what it’s like to sweat again than have to socialize while frozen. My hair is still damp and I can’t find thick enough socks to warm the blocks of ice I’m walking on when Allie is yelling at me to get out to the car.

She keeps her car colder than the house. It’s like she’s never heard of a heater. And I can already tell that I don’t have enough layers on for this. But we speed down the road, taking curves like it’s a NASCAR race, so I suck it up and try to focus on the shitty music she blasts. It’s pretty much all parody rap. I didn’t realize anyone actually listened to this stuff.

The town is basically a handful of old buildings concentrated on either side of one main road. There’s a local grocery store that resembles the ones from old-timey movies, only a bit cleaner. I notice a library, two antique shops, a diner, a coffee shop, two fast food chain restaurants, a gas station, and a tiny police station. There are a few other small businesses. But after one stoplight, the shops turn into homes. There’s a patch of residencies that looks like a normal neighborhood you’d find anywhere. But it’s just a patch, and the homes space out, growing in size and uniqueness. I can see how someone could love this. It’s cute. Quaint. But is there even a bar or a place to go dancing?

“The meeting is just a little outside of town. The Millers have a huge house over on Cottage Grove. Their kids have all moved out now and I think Candice is just a little lonely.”

The way people talk about each other in small towns amuses me. Everyone thinks they’re safer and their business is more private because there are less people around. But really, everyone knows everyone and they all love to take whatever tidbits they can get to gossip over.

The house is daunting. It’s three stories, stone, and if it were any larger, it would probably resemble a small castle. The half-circle driveway is already full of cars. Either they own a ridiculous number of vehicles, or everyone on the mountain decided this book club thing was worth showing up to.

Allie is excited. It’s easy to see. Her eyes light up at the sight of so many cars. Of course. Like I was thinking earlier, it must get lonely being in her large house, miles above the town, without any human interaction six days out of the week. She grabs my hand and basically drags me up the cobblestone path to the palatial entrance. One of the beautiful, heavy, wooden, double doors is propped open, with a welcome sign hanging on the other. We walk in without knocking. These people are so trusting. I’d never leave a home this grand open and vulnerable. Anyone could just walk in and steal whatever. Or worse. But as Allie would say, “This isn’t the valley. People are good here. You don’t even have to lock your doors. It’s safe.” She’s naïve. Nowhere is safe. But I can see how it would be easy to feel that way in an area like this.

“Allie!” A willowy redhead with perfect teeth and a melodic voice bounces towards us. She seems genuinely excited to see my friend, which means she’s probably Charlotte. Allie told me about how they like to go hiking together and drive into the city once a month to drink and dance. She could be worth getting to know.

“Charlotte! I didn’t think you were coming. This is Andie. She’s the friend I was telling you about – the one I’ve known since I was like six. She’s living with me for a while. Andie, this is Charlotte,” Allie introduces us.

“Allie and Andie. I bet that was fun growing up,” Charlotte gently teases, then points down the long hallway, “Everyone is in the den. There’s a ton of food. I’m thinking Candice doesn’t know what to do with herself since Jeremy left for college. I’ve never seen so many homemade baked goods in one room before. I’m going to try to find a bathroom in this place. But save me a seat if you can!”

She walks off, looking a bit lost. I don’t blame her. There are too many doors and no indicators. Allie grabs my wrist and pulls me down the hall. I feel like she’s been here before. She doesn’t hesitate as she leads around two turns and into a large room filled with couches, chairs, tables piled with food, and more people than I care to try to interact with. It’s loud, like the food court in a mall. Everyone is standing, walking around and talking to one another. Over one another. But it all seems friendly enough. It’s mostly middle-aged women and couples. But there are a few younger people scattered about, as well as a handful that are elderly. It’s probably a good representation of the community. Not many people our age can afford to own homes – let alone the type they sell around here.

I begin to feel like a show pony as Allie drags me from one group to another. It’s the same conversation again and again.

“Hey! How are you? How are the kids? This is my friend Andie. She’s living with me for a while, but I’m trying to convince her to move up here permanently. She doesn’t like the cold. But there’s just no better place than our cute little mountain. Don’t you just love it up here?” Allie spits out the same spiel again and again.

They’re all polite. Some ramble on about how they were weary at first, but fell in love with the place. Others invite me to dinner or to meet their single adult sons. I’m asked what I do for a living by a few of the older couples, who then proceed to regret asking when they realize that they have no clue what my data analysis job entails and have no interest in learning more.

I feel complete relief when a slightly plump, middle aged woman with smile lines and crow’s feet stands at the front of the room and the noises start to die down.

“Welcome everyone. I’m so happy to see so many friendly faces. I just love when our community can come together like this. If everyone can take a seat, we’ll go over the schedule for the next two months, including what books we’ll be reading and when we’ll meet. It’s ok if you can’t come to every meeting. Just pop in when you’re available. Also, if anyone has any requests for snacks or suggestions for future books, feel free to let me know after the meeting, or you can email or text me. Let’s get started!”

I tune out most of the meeting. The books sound pretty lame. They want to meet too often. Everyone is faking excitement I think. And soon, talk of books and meetings turns into gossip that drifts into individual conversations, until everyone is standing around the food, talking about their kids and health. I want Allie to suggest we leave, but she keeps running off to say hi to whoever she didn’t get to before the meeting started. She can tell I’m not interested in being introduced to every person here, so she no longer tries to drag me around. I’m standing awkwardly off to the side – the obvious outsider.

“You’re the guest Allie has been telling everyone about, right?” A man approaches. He looks older than me, but younger than a lot of others in the room. I’d guess he’s probably in his thirties. He’s tall and slightly scruffy, and it feels like he should have stood out amongst all these people. But I didn’t see him until he was already speaking.

I nod, “Yep. That’s me.”

“How are you liking it? Allie’s place is a little out of the way. I imagine it can get a bit boring up there,” he casually leans against the wall, turning his head to look down on me as he speaks.

“It’s not exactly my style. But it’s pretty,” I feel slightly uncomfortable. I’m not sure if it’s his size or the deepness of his voice when he speaks. The hairs on the back of my neck are standing at attention.

“It is. It’s beautiful up there. Are you going to be staying a while?”

“Uhm, I’m not sure yet,” I don’t know why I’m answering. It’s an odd question, seeing as he hasn’t even told me his name yet. I quickly follow with, “Have you known Allie long?”

He shifts his weight, “About as long as anyone else here. It’s a small community. Nobody stays a stranger for very long.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“Well it was nice meeting you Andie. I hope to see you around,” he moves quickly for his stature, and I don’t even get the chance to ask who he is. I’ll ask Allie. But it still feels slightly unsettling. I never told him my name. But Allie has been telling it to everyone here tonight, so maybe he overheard. Or maybe she sent him over. That sounds like something she’d do. But the rationalization doesn’t make the strange feeling go away.

I spend the rest of the event scrolling through my phone and trying to stay as out of the way as possible. The second Allie reemerges from the crowd, I ask if we can leave. As much as I complain about how lonely and boring the mountain must get, I have had way more socialization than I desire and am ready for the isolation of my cold room at the bottom of Allie’s house.

“Yeah. We should get back. I’m sure the cats have found something to destroy by now,” she laughs. She’s glowing, and I can tell this is exactly what she needed. Her weekly recharge. It has left me feeling drained and overwhelmed.

In the privacy of the car, I inquire about the man, “Hey Allie, who is the tall guy that was wearing the grey sweater? The scruffy one with the green eyes and super deep voice.”

She looks confused, “What guy?”

“I don’t know. He looks like he’s in his thirties maybe. He knew my name and says he’s known you since you got up here.”

“It’s not ringing any bells.”

My mouth goes dry, “He’s pretty distinct. Tall, dark brown hair, green eyes, kinda pale skin. He had on a grey sweater and dark jeans I think. His voice is really deep. And he moves pretty quickly for a guy that size.”

“Yeah, I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“That’s weird, isn’t it?”

“Maybe. He’s probably the kid of one of the older couples I introduced you to. They’re always telling me about their grown children who sometimes visit. But I don’t really know any of them.”

“He acted like he knew you personally. He even mentioned how your house was out of the way, like he knew where you lived or had been there or something.”

She laughs, “It’s a small town Andie. Stop being so paranoid. Everyone knows where I live. It’s a great house.”

I should feel reassured by how little she’s concerned, but I don’t. She’s probably right. These people all seem to know everything going on in each other’s lives. And her house is distinct. But I’ve spent my whole life in the city, where nobody knows where you live unless you tell them - and you don’t tell too many people so your place doesn’t get robbed. I’d prefer it if strangers didn’t know where I slept.

#excerpt #suspense #thriller #novel

I thought the adrenaline would carry me farther. I shouldn't be feeling the twigs ripping into my feet or the branches scraping at my face and arms. It shouldn't be this hard to breathe. I should be propelling forward, nothing but survival on my mind.

But I'm crashing and in pain. I feel myself slowing and my limbs getting heavier. My skin burns and stings from the hundreds of tiny cuts the woods have torn into me. And I hear him. His footsteps are closer and stronger. He's getting faster - not slowing down like I am. And if something doesn't change, he'll catch me, and I'll be dead.

This should terrify me. It should fuel the fire and send me flying. But I'm just so tired...

I don't know how far the road is. Maybe if I did, I'd have the motivation to keep going. If I knew the surface would flatten out and somebody might find me, I'd rocket towards it. But I don't know where I am. I don't know if there is civilization in any direction or if anyone will ever find me. I could run until there is no more skin on my feet and there is more blood on the outside of my body than the inside, and I still may be no closer to getting away from this psychopath than I was when he had me tied up in his kitchen.

"Mercy! Mercy! You can't run from me, Mercy! You have nowhere to go!" His voice is deep and powerful, permeating the air and suffocating me. He's right. I have nowhere to go.

Do I stop? Should I try to hide? Maybe I can climb one of these trees and see if there's anything out there. I can climb to the top and wait until morning. He'll have turned around by then. He'll have had to.

I can hear how close he is. His steps are getting louder. The twigs snap beneath his boots instead of stab and maim. And I know he can hear me. My breathing is heavy and ragged. A whimper slips here and there as small rocks lodge themselves into the balls of my feet. I know I need to be silent. I am trying. But everything hurts. Every step. Every breath. It's like millions of small knives being plunged into each part of my body.

"I can hear you, Mercy! You can't get away from me! You are mine Mercy! You are mine!"

This tree will have to do. I don't have a choice. I can't run anymore. There's barely any skin left on my feet and every step has become harder and harder to take. So I climb. The bark tears at me more than the twigs did. But it's mostly my toes. I can't describe the pain. But I can handle it. I have to. I have to keep climbing before he finds me and drags me back to that place...

"Mercy," It sounds more like a taunt now. He isn't yelling. He's so close that I can smell the stench of his sweat. It's putrid and takes me back to that dirty kitchen he has kept me in.

"Mercy, Mercy, Mercy. You can't hide from me Mercy. I can hear you breathing."

I am panting, gulping for oxygen. But I can't stop. My lungs are on fire and my chest feels like it is being crushed. If I climb high enough he won't hear me anymore. He won't be able to find me in the dark. I can get away. I have to get away.

He stops. I don't hear his thundering footsteps anymore. Is he here? Is he below me? I look down, but it's too dark to see anything below my own body. But if I can't see him, he can't see me, right? Please. Please don't let him see me.

My arms are so tired. I am not sure how I'm still holding on. I grip the tree, grabbing for branches, trying to find places to set my toes. The blood on my hands and feet is slick, and I can feel myself sliding, losing my hold. I grab tighter - so tight I can feel the bark pushing into my hands, pieces of it becoming embedded.

I don't think there's any oxygen left in the air. My chest won't expand, and the fire has spread from my lungs to every inch of my body. My head has gone light and my heart no longer beats in any sort of rhythm. It's like gravity has increased, pulling me down.

Down.

I feel myself falling and I can't reach my arms out to stop it. They're no longer under my control. They've turned to stone, helping pull me down faster. All of me is stone. So heavy.

"Mercy... Mercy."

I hear him. I smell him.

And then nothing but a slight ringing as my body hits the ground. I expect it to hurt. But there is no pain. Just nothing.

She’s beautiful. Prettier than me. And you look happy. You never looked that happy with any of the others. So, I’m happy for you. I really am.

You sit in our favorite café at the same little table we always did. And she looks so natural there, taking my spot. You haven’t even glanced out of the window once. She holds your gaze. I’m kind of glad you stare at her so deeply. It gives me time to drink it in and compose myself.

You’re so fixated on her that I doubt you’ll notice when I finally get the guts to come in. I should leave. You want me to meet her. Get to know her. I’ll love her as much as you do, you said. I laughed and assured you I couldn’t wait to meet this amazing woman you were engaged to.

Engaged.

Fuck.

I’ve flown halfway across the country and now I see her and I see the way you look at her…

My whole body is shaking, and I feel like I could vomit.

I have to do this. For you. I have to go in there, smile, hug her, hug you, and be the best friend. I have to make small talk and get to know the woman you’ve chosen. And I might love her. She will be amazing – every bit as much as you told me she is. And that will only make it that much harder to smile, to talk… to breathe.

One foot in front of the other. I make it through the doorway. Too late to turn back now.

“Ally! It’s been so long! How is life in California treating you?” Taylor, longtime owner of this place, hugs me.

I smile. “California is great. Is Devan here? I’m supposed to meet his fiancé.”

“Same spot as usual. I’m glad to hear it’s going well. You’ll have to tell me all about it before you head back!”

I nod. “Of course!”

I should talk to him longer. I should tell him all about California. He’d love to hear about all the restaurants and coffee shops in Los Angeles. We’d discuss the latest trends and all the cool new people I’ve met. And I wouldn’t have to face you right now.

But you asked me to come here. You asked me to meet her.

And we both know I’d do anything you asked of me.

“Ally!”

You jump up to hug me and my heart races, leaping around frantically trying to escape my chest. It doesn’t want to be here and I don’t blame it.

“Devan,” I try to sound enthusiastic. You buy it.

“Ally, this is Raquel. Raquel, this is my best friend, Ally.”

She smiles and it’s perfect. A perfect smile on a perfect face on a perfect body. Her hair is fiery red and her eyes are the sort of green that you only see in Disney movies. Her skin is flawless. Head to toe she looks like a model. But you did always have a type. I shouldn’t have expected any less.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you Ally. Devan has told me all about you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too. He’s been gushing over you for months. I’m sorry I couldn’t get out here earlier. We’ve had some pretty big projects going on back at the lab.”

“It’s totally okay. He told me you were a ridiculously smart scientist. I think that’s so amazing. I wish I had had the motivation back in school to do something like that,” She smiles again. Or still. It’s hard to tell where one smile ends and a new one begins. She looks like an angel.

My stomach turns.

“It’s not that impressive. It’s just a small research laboratory. But thank you. I’m sure Devan talked up my intelligence way more than I deserve. He has a habit of doing that.”

“You're basically a genius. Get over it,” Your laugh feels like rocks being piled onto my chest. I used to love hearing you laugh.

“I’m sure he didn’t exaggerate at all. Everyone around here loves you,” Her voice is so smooth and feminine.

And you look at her again, like you were before you saw me come in.

“I’ll be right back guys. I just need to run to the restroom.”

You don’t take your eyes off of her, and just say, “Of course. We’ll be right here.”

I can barely see straight. My eyes burn. If I was any other girl I’d be crying. I’d have run out as fast as I could, curled up in a ball, and cried until the sun came up. Or whatever it is women do in movies when their hearts are breaking.

But you asked me to be here. You asked me to talk to her. You basically begged me to like her - or to at least tell you I liked her - so you could marry her and start that perfect little family you had always wanted.

Fuck.

The woman in the kitchen is beautiful. Her hair is long and dark and her lips are a deep berry shade. She glides around, occasionally laughing and glancing towards me. The smell of spices swirl through the air – a scent I’d later come to associate with the holidays.

Sounds drift from all around, and I turn my tiny head to see what is causing them. On the couch to my left sits a large old man with a round head and a deep laugh. A petite woman with shoulder length chestnut hair that curls into itself at the bottom sits close to him. Her posture is perfect. She offers polite smiles as the others gleefully exchange stories and jokes. When prompted to speak, her words are short and wrapped in a heavy accent.

There are voices coming from where I can’t see. I move my head around, trying to locate the sounds, but am restricted by the bouncer I’m lying on. To my right, there is a baby gate, holding back a golden-brown dog with a purple collar. She growls at me, barring her teeth and pushing against the barrier. I cry out in fear at the creature.

My father comes to my rescue. As he leans down to comfort me, his long black hair fans out, shielding me from the animosity of the dog. I don’t know how I know he is my father, but I do. His voice sounds like music. And as he lifts me off of the bouncer, I feel safe and protected, like nothing will ever hurt me.

You’re standing in front of me in nothing but a pair of sweats. And I’m becoming increasingly aware of the man holding my hand, waiting for an introduction and to be shown where we’ll be sleeping. You and I make eye contact. My insides squirm. Are my palms starting to sweat? Can he feel my pulse beginning to race? The air is thickening and I can barely breathe.

I’m saved by your younger sister. She has gotten so big. And it hurts a bit to realize how much time has passed since the last time I saw you. She smiles and introduces herself, then points towards our room and asks if the man I’m with has seen it yet. When he shakes his head, she takes his other hand and begins to pull us towards it. You don’t stop her. Our gazes connect one last time before you turn down the hall. I’m torn between relief and disappointment that you’re gone.

The room is large and dimly lit. I brought most of our belongings last week when you had told me there was a spare room we could rent if we needed. We hadn’t spoken in months, but you saw my Facebook post about looking for a place to live and had the space. Boxes line the walls, leaving a narrow path around the already made bed. Your sister shows the man around, pointing to outlets and letting him know where the two different doors go to. One is our own bathroom, which she says we’re lucky to have. She has to share with you. Then she leaves.

“Are you sleepy?” the man asks me. My boyfriend - he’s my boyfriend. He has been for years.

I just smile at him and nod. I know that if I try to speak, he’ll sense something is wrong. I’ll have to lie to him. And he doesn’t deserve lies. It’s nicer to just keep my mouth shut.

The days pass slowly. Each momentary glance as we cross paths sends my heart fluttering out of my chest and fills me with shame and guilt. I only hear your voice as you parent your sister. And it intensifies the ache in my chest. Watching you raise her alone is heartbreaking. We never talked about your loss. You were already distancing yourself by then. But I wanted to be there for you so badly.

“Are you okay? You’ve been kind of quiet lately,” my boyfriend asks. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed as I change into something more comfortable.

I pull on my favorite oversized sweater and answer, “Yeah. I’m fine. It’s just been tiring getting unpacked and settled in.”

He loops his arm around my waist and pulls me onto his lap, “Then relax. There’s no rush to get everything done at once. Let’s just take a nap and then go out for dinner.”

We curl up on the bed. I wait for his breathing to slow and deepen so I can slip away. The feel of his warmth makes me anxious and irritable. It’s suffocating. Every day it’s just a little harder to look at him. He has done nothing wrong. And I do love him. But I just need to get away.

Sure he’s asleep, I tiptoe out of the room and close the door as quietly as possible. The living room is empty, so I get comfortable, stretch out on the couch, and find a movie on Netflix. I need a distraction.

The second you enter the room, I’m fully aware of your presence. You don’t say a word as you lounge on the couch beside me. Our skin touches, and I feel you staring. The thought of eye contact is terrifying, but I look anyways. We don’t need to speak, because in that moment we both know. Twelve years’ worth of suppressed emotions and unshared feelings bubble to the surface. They consume, drowning me in total bliss and complete devastation. It’s a simple touch. But it’s all I need to know that you have ruined me. My mind flashed to the man asleep in the other room. Nobody else could ever love me as completely as he does. But it is shattered. When I go back in there, I will crumble as I break his heart or I break mine.

You look away. But you don’t move, leaving the flames growing from where our bodies meet. I know I should break it off. I should go pretend to nap with the man who would never hurt me. But I can’t. The flames will burn and destroy until you leave and I am empty.