Page 41 of Lilies from Hell

“What things?”

“It has to be in person.”

“Just come back soon, I’m dying of boredom here,” I say with a pitiful pout before hanging up. As I go to turn off my phone screen, I notice a new message. It’s from an unknown number, but none of the digits match the phone number that called me a few days ago on the phone I found in my room.

Unknown number: Which one do you want to watch today?

Below the message is a photo with a list of movie images that distract me from solving my recent mystery. Most of them are horror movies. With a smile that I can’t hide, I decide to turn off the screen to learn how to breathe again. As I go to answer, he beats me to it.

Unknown number: I’ll be there around midnight.

Before I bite my nails down to the quick, I decide to respond with a thumbs-up emoji. This is strange. Are we going to have movie dates every night now? Could you even call it a date?

That night he arrived half an hour earlier than promised and brought a huge projector that he placed on the floor on the carpet, projecting the first three Saw movies onto the ceiling. Neither of us said anything, but the looks were always there. I wanted to ask him about our strange relationship, but I distracted myself with popcorn whenever he looked at me. Especially remembering, because as much as I wanted to remember having him between my legs, I knew it was best to keep it in the past.

There was a point where I fell asleep and woke up the next morning on my bed with the same message. That time I replied I would like to finish the Saw saga, and he agreed to stay with me until eight in the morning. Neither of us slept. Our awkward silence turned into whispers that dominated our conversations, and our shy eyes became knowing glances. But he didn’t touch me again, not even because of the intense sparkle in my eyes begging him to do so.

One day I went to the pool, pretending to sunbathe in modest attire. I later saw him speaking with my father in the back garden, but he didn’t acknowledge me at all.

He came back to visit rather regularly. The visits were not for me but for my father, as usual. His sudden rejection confused me, and he finally stopped coming without even telling me why. He never texted me again, let alone called or sent me gifts. As I ate a tub of ice cream during The Hills Have Eyes, I kept myself from crying. Bad idea. Every scene reminded me of him, and I started eating ice cream mixed with the salt from my tears.

He kept coming to my house, but everything stayed the same or even got worse, and I wondered why. Did he no longer like me? Did he think I was too immature for those things? Too inexperienced? Was it just temporary? Those thoughts burrowed so deep into my being that they penetrated my bones, feeding my unease about knowing, but I’m terrified of knowing the truth. Anxiety’d rather eat me away than have my heart broken by him once again.

“I brought this,” Polina says, returning to her seat in front of us with two drinks in her hands. “They’re strawberry daiquiries.”

“Strawberry daiquiries? What the fuck is that?” Denis asks beside me before taking a long sip of his drink. “Well, it’s not bad.” He slides the glass toward me.

“You know I don’t like alcohol,” I say, pushing the drink away. I know firsthand what drugs and alcohol can do to you, and I don’t trust anyone around me enough to do it.

“I’ll go get a bottle of water.” Before I can get up from the table, she’s already done so.

“I’ll go,” Polina mutters with a forced smile, and I let her leave without even glancing at her.

The smell of jalapeno peppers makes me wrinkle my nose. Denis’s voice fills the space again once Polina is far enough away, reminding me of the only reason we’re in this godforsaken place.

“You always have her eating out of your hand.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I murmur as I put a cigarette between my lips, wanting to mask the smell of Mexican food with something.

“I’m talking about Polina. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I retort after blowing smoke out of my nose. “She sees me only as a brother.”

“Like a brother she’d like to fuck,” he says with a mocking smile.

I take my phone out of my pants pocket. I use it secretly to watch the cameras. Especially secretly from Denis’s eyes, which are now very busy with Polina.

“If you like her so much, tell her. Don’t bother me with your whining,” I murmur, my attention focused on the bottom of her swimsuit.

A sigh escapes my lips when she turns around and lets herself fall onto her bed with her cell phone in her hands, causing her breasts to bounce as she falls. I shouldn’t watch her. It reminds me how stupid and selfish I’ve been all these days, putting her in danger because of my need to feel her close to me. I am condemned to hell, but the fire burns less when I am by her side.

“What she doesn’t have in the front, she has in the back,” whispers Denis with a brief smile as he watches Lena lift her skirt with her back to the bed on my screen. The smile fades as soon as he receives a hard blow to the ribs that leaves him breathless.

“The next one will be in the teeth,” I hiss, turning my attention back to her. This time I hide my phone more and make sure no one else is watching her.

“Relax man. I was fucking joking,” he murmurs, his voice breaking.

Every time I try to breathe, the memories draw thousands of pins into my lungs, but the cigarette smoke helps to dispel them.