Infatuation

I knew more about her for never having spoken to her. We didn't need to. Because the way she looked at me sometimes, that said it all. She wanted me. She didn't mind that I'd stop by her apartment late, or that I'd watch her sleep, buried under her gray blanket, while the stars strung around her room blinked on and off to the rhythm of her breathing.

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33. Adam

I'd asked for forgiveness.

For all of it.

Avery stared at me, her eyes narrowed. She said, "You're fucked up, Adam. Absolutely hopeless. You're a monster."

She called you a monster! Finally, the truth! You'd better run before she calls the police. You don't want to get locked up, do you?

Disappear. Evaporate. Cease to be.


A wailing noise escaped my throat, and I heard the beeping in my head. Then her voice.

"I'm calling to report an attempted murder—mine. No, no, he's still here. He's alive. He just—could you please send someone to my apartment?" And quietly: "This is the man who killed Katherine Wilk."

You messed up. And now it's over.

I couldn't let him be right—couldn't let them take me. So I picked myself up off the floor, and ran from the apartment.


 

**



Hours dragged on, then days, and possibly weeks. But it took me a long time to realize that no one was after me. There were no sirens in the distance.

Freedom was within reach.

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