Chapter 13
I woke to the shrill blare of my alarm, a sound so piercing it could’ve been ripped straight from the climax of a horror movie. Fitting, really, considering my life had taken a hard left into nightmare territory since moving in with Greg and his deranged son–a bona fide psycho and, to top it off, a goddamn stalker.
Groaning, I smacked the snooze button and rolled over, burying my face into my pillow. Five more minutes, I promised myself, which was clearly a lie because five minutes always turned into twenty. But nope, not today. I couldn’t risk being late again, not with Mom already giving me the talk about “responsibility” and how I needed to “set a good example” to others like I actually give a fuck.
Dragging myself out of bed, I shuffled toward the bathroom. The cold tiles sent a shiver up my spine, jolting me awake. I turned on the shower, waited for the water to heat up, and stepped under the spray, letting the warmth wash away the grogginess. Shampoo, conditioner, body wash–the usual routine. The smell of vanilla and citrus filled the bathroom, making me feel a little more human.
Once I was out, I wrapped myself in a towel and wiped the steam off the mirror. My reflection stared back at me, disheveled and half–asleep. Great. Just great. I ran a comb through my hair, wincing at the knots. Why did my hair always decide to have a meltdown on school mornings?
After what felt like an eternity, I finally got it under control, letting it fall into loose waves. A dab of lip oil, a spritz of perfume–okay, maybe a bit too much perfume–and I was good to go. Or so I thought. My favorite jeans had somehow gone missing, leaving me with a pair that was just a tad too snug. Fantastic. I paired it with a simple white top and a flannel shirt, hoping I looked effortlessly casual instead of trying too hard to be
effortless.
Satisfied-
—or as satisfied as I could be–I grabbed my bag and headed for the door. I opened the door, my hand still on the doorknob when I froze.
There he was.
Ethan. The unhinged psycho himself.
Standing right outside my door like he owned the entire damn house.
Okay, fine–technically, he sort of did, but that wasn’t the point.
“What the actual-” I started, but he cut me off before I could finish.
“Camila,” he said, his voice calm and unbothered, “breakfast is ready.”
I blinked. Once. Twice. “Excuse me?”
“Breakfast. Downstairs.”
I stared at him, my brain stumbling over itself trying to make sense of the situation. Did I hear that right?
Was he seriously trying to play mommy dearest right now? Or was this some kind of bizarre power move I hadn’t signed up for?
“What do you expect me to say to that?” I asked, incredulous. “Okay, Mum?“”
He didn’t even flinch. His face stayed perfectly blank, like this was a completely normal interaction.
Spoiler alert: it wasn’t. Not even close.
A “normal” interaction with him usually involved standing a few feet away, lurking in silence, and staring into my soul like he was trying to decode the secrets of the universe- or plan my murder. Probably both.
“I’m just passing on the message,” he said with a shrug. “Greg said to make sure you’re eating before school.”
Oh, so now he was Greg’s messenger boy? What’s next? A carrier pigeon?
“I’ll be down in a minute,” I muttered, stepping past him and refusing to make eye contact. The last thing I wanted was to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d rattled me.
The kitchen was already buzzing with activity when I got there. Mom was setting the table, humming a tune that I vaguely recognized. Greg was sipping his coffee, looking like he had stepped straight out of a magazine ad for “cool stepdads.”
“Good morning, sweetheart!” Mom chirped, planting a kiss on my cheek.
“Morning,” I mumbled, sliding into a chair.
Ethan strolled in a few seconds later, sitting across from me. He didn’t say anything, just grabbed a piece of toast and started buttering it like he didn’t have a care in the world.
“So,” Mom began, her eyes sparkling, “are you excited for school today?”
Thrilled,” I deadpanned, reaching for the orange juice.
11/2
3:33 PM
x
Chapter 13
Greg chuckled. “Teenagers.”
Teenager?! I’m eighteen! That’s pratically an adult.
Ethan smirked, and I shot him a glare. What was his deal? First, he shows up outside my room like some kind of ghost, and now he’s acting like we’re old pals?
Breakfast was a blur of small talk and awkward silences, most of which involved me trying to avoid Ethan’s gaze. By the time I was done, I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.
“I’ll take the bus,” I said quickly, grabbing my bag and heading for the door.
“You sure?” Mom called after me. “I can drive you.”
“Nope, all good!” I replied, already halfway out.
As I stepped outside, the crisp morning air hit me, clearing my head. The bus stop wasn’t far, and honestly, the walk would do me some good. I needed time to process… whatever the hell that interaction was.
And to figure out how I was going to survive the rest of the day without losing my mind.
12/2
