Chapter 4
He didn't pull the detector off. He twisted it and left it crooked.
I watched his gloved hand come down from the ceiling. Dust fell slow in daylight. He stepped back and wiped his palm on his dark jeans like he'd touched something dirty. He didn't look at me again. He looked at her.
She still held the small dark object. Her red nails caught light. Her white blouse didn't wrinkle when she breathed. I stayed curled in corner of gray sofa, knees to chest, pink pajamas stuck to my legs where I'd sweated. I listened to my own breathing. Fabric rustled each time I tried not to move.
She tipped her chin toward the white door. He nodded once. No words passed between them that I heard. Just that shared look, like they'd already decided what this room meant.
They left together. He went first, then her, his brown boots quiet on dark wood floor, her steps softer. Neither touched me on way out. Door stayed ajar, two inches open, light from hallway cutting straight line across beige rug. I heard their shadows move past the gap and then hallway went quiet. No click. No lock. Just ajar, like invitation and warning at same time.
I didn't move at first. I counted breaths. Couch cushion pressed against my back, spring digging into shoulder blade. My cheek still burned where her hand had gripped. Tears dried tight on skin. I kept eyes on that crooked white circle on ceiling. Smoke detector housing sat tilted now, one edge pulled down, dark gap showing underneath. It wasn't white and clean anymore. It was askew, like eye half-closed. He'd meant to disable it but hadn't finished, or had wanted it to look untouched and failed. That gap proved someone had reached for it.
I listened for house. No footsteps returned. No voices from other rooms. Heating clicked somewhere beyond wall. I unfolded slow, fabric rustle loud in silence. My legs had gone numb. Pins tingled when I shifted.
I slid off sofa. Bare feet hit beige rug, then dark wood cold at edge. I crouched low, stayed below sofa back, as if camera still watched despite being tampered. I checked rug where I'd pressed trace safe earlier. My fingers found it. Small folded corner of paper I'd tucked under rug edge near sofa leg while they'd been focused on ceiling. It wasn't paper really, just torn corner I managed to hide, with smudged line I'd made with pencil from side table. It was still there, pressed flat, hidden by rug weight. I pressed palm over it once to be sure, then let rug fall back. My breath eased a little. Trace hidden. Proof not gone.
I stood halfway and looked where she had stood. Gray sofa empty now except dent where I'd curled. Floor clear. Side table held nothing but lamp and remote. I scanned for small dark rectangular object. Checked cushion crease, checked floor by her shoes, checked edge of sofa where her hand had hovered. Nothing. No dark shape left behind.
Realization hit cold. She'd taken it with her. OBJECT_1 gone with woman. Not dropped, not forgotten. Still in her hand when she walked out, still in control. I remembered red nails curled around it, how she'd displayed it before grabbing my jaw. It never left her palm. That meant threat left room but didn't leave house. It moved with her, could come back.
May you like
I pulled knees up again but this time on floor, back against sofa, eyes on door gap. Light from hallway didn't move. Detector stayed crooked above me. House felt different alone. Gray sofa, off-white walls, light beige rug all same as before, but now room felt like trap with lid off. Every corner watched, even with camera askew. Quiet after footsteps felt louder than footsteps had.
I didn't call out. Didn't cry loud. I stayed low, breathing slow, hand resting light on rug edge where trace hid. I watched door ajar and waited to hear if they'd return.
