Page 62 of Burn With Me

I didn’t know how much time I had, but it was three in the morning, so I was betting that she wasn’t planning on coming home tonight.

There was something oddly satisfying about wandering through someone’s home without them knowing. I’d never thought of myself as the stalker type, but these hunts over the last couple of months had been the most satisfying thing I’d done since my job for killing Dr. Wallace. Nothing would ever compare to that moment.

I stopped to stare at the pictures that were hanging in the hallway. Almost every single one of them was of the blonde and the other girl with her. The images looked as if they were taken at different ages and in different parts of the world. The way they smiled at one another screamed that they were sisters, but they looked nothing alike.

I poked my head around the first door I came to and found a decent-sized bathroom. For whatever reason, I found myself stepping into the space and picking up the bottles to sniff. I oddly liked the scent and was tempted to spritz myself. That was fucked up.

Sitting the bottle down, I picked up a small dangle earring that looked like a child’s piece of jewelry in my massive, gloved hand. Putting the earring back, I turned in a circle and stared at the plush purple towels and dried flowers in ocean blue frames. I hadn’t pictured the blonde that leaped from one balcony to the next, the type to use this sort of color scheme.

There was only one more room at the end of this hall, and the door was halfway open. I gave it a small push and froze as I spotted the person lying in bed. How did she get in here without me seeing? I would’ve sworn that her Jeep wasn’t in the lot. Curiosity had me inching closer to the bed and the sleeping form. There was just enough light coming from a small night light that helped me see all the furniture in the room.

With a moan, the woman mumbled and rolled over onto her back, with one arm flung over her head.

My pulse pounded a little harder as I stared at the brunette’s face that had been at breakfast with the blonde. I needed to know their names. It was annoying to think of them as the blonde and the brunette. Not even sure why I stepped closer to the bed, but I did until I was standing right beside it. Her face was relaxed while she slept.

Up this close, I was able to see the long dark lashes lying against her cheeks. They looked like the wings of a butterfly, and her hair splayed out around her like a large fan. She was truly beautiful. For just a single stupid moment, I pictured what it would be like to have someone care for me. Someone like her. Someone not to see me as a damaged thing or a monster to fuck for fun. I thought I’d found that with Adalyn, but then I realized she was almost at big of a monster as Dr. Wallace.

Anger flared in my chest, and my fists clenched tight at my side as I took a step away from the bed and the sleeping woman. My eyes found the incense stick and the lighter on the nightstand. I wanted to grab for it, but I forced myself to stop. I hated that I’d been tempted to kill someone that I hadn’t done proper research on yet and certainly hadn’t done anything to me.. My heart squeezed like it was in a vice, and my stomach twisted up in knots. This girl hadn’t hurt me, and from the little bit I’d seen of her, she was a nice person. I was starting to create a code, and she didn’t fit the mold.

One step at a time, I backed out of the room.

“Vi, is that you,” she mumbled, her voice soft and delicate with sleep.

She didn’t stir or sit up, but I stepped to the side of the door to be safe. My heart was pounding like a piston in my chest with the sound of her sleepy and thick tone that was like honey to my ears. I waited to see if she was going to get up. I didn’t want to kill her if I didn’t have to, but if she forced me to…

When I was sure that she would remain asleep, I made my way back to the kitchen area and wandered to the other side of the apartment. This time, I found the bedroom I was looking for and proceeded to snoop around the space, looking for anything to tell me more about who this woman was. Pulling open her drawers, I sifted through her belongings but found nothing useful. Her closet wasn’t any better. Her shoe boxes were filled with useless items. That told me nothing. My eye caught a plastic bag hanging on the back of the door, and I realized it was dry cleaning.

“Huh, a fire investigator,” I said as I stared at the arm flash on the sleeve of the dress shirt. Rubbing my thumb over the crest, I had to smile.

“Isn’t that fucking ironic. Are you looking for me?” I chuckled.

I made my way back out to the main area, and my eyes scanned the surfaces for mail. The place was as neat as a pin, which was annoying. About to give up, I did one more scan of the area and spotted a brown folder on the small dining room table. Flicking open the folder, my hand froze.

“What the fuck,” I mumbled as I stared at a fire file and the picture that stared me in the face was the first fire I’d ever done.

Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and could still picture the smell of that fire. How my adrenaline spiked when I snuck in the open window. I’d watched that girl leave. She always snuck out on a Friday night, and I knew it would only be a matter of time before she gave me my way in.

My fingers brushed over the image of the fire and the home that was mostly burned to the ground by the time the photo was taken. I missed this part of the burn. I’d been on a mission and hadn’t stayed long enough to see the full aftermath. It was stunning, with the tendrils of smoke rising into the air with the forest in the background. It was exactly as I imagined it would look.

It had been a pure fluke that I saw the social worker who had been to my house so many times. I knew her by name. Vivian had become a constant attendee at my home. She showed up once a month like clockwork, which would’ve been fine if she’d actually done something to help.

But she didn’t.

Instead of pulling Asher and myself out of there like she was supposed to, she sat and drank tea with my mother. They laughed about whatever the fuck women that age laughed about. Then my father would arrive home, treating her like he was a perfect gentleman. He’d fucking smile and shake her hand and say crap like, ‘so nice to see you again.’

She never bothered to stick around to see my father's anger every time her ass showed up at the door and who he would take it out on. She never saw how I became the punching bag because she couldn’t be bothered to do her job correctly. She never saw the bruises on my skin, the fear in my brother’s eyes, or the cracked ribs my mother had.

Nope, she never saw any of that.

She’d smile and wave and fucking drive off like she was some superstar. Meanwhile, all she did was make my life worse.

I was leaning forward on my handlebars as I waited to cross at the lights when she pulled up beside me in her car. Her windows were down, and the music she was playing was upbeat and happy.

My head turned at the sound of the music, and I did a double take on the face. It couldn’t be a coincidence for no reason that we arrived at the light at the same time. No, this was a sign, and I couldn’t just let her drive past and disappear.

I couldn’t just let her continue on like it was okay that she got to sing like she was a fucking karaoke queen while I was biking down the road after stealing a chocolate bar and a pack of football trading cards to give my brother for his birthday. No, I needed to know where she lived.

Of course, the hood on my hoodie had been up, so she didn’t notice me, but I noticed her. My feet pushed hard on the peddles until my legs burned as I tried to keep up with the sedan. She never saw me as she turned into the expensive neighborhood with homes that were the size of four of mine. It was one of those areas that sat in the middle of the golf course and cost a fortune.