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She played me.

Not with force.

With permission.

I could follow her now.Drag her back in.Finish what I tried to start.Strip her down to bone.But it wouldn’t be clean.

And I only know how to do this if it’s clean.

I press my hands against the vanity.Look into the fogged glass.My reflection is useless.Faint.A smudge pretending to be a man.

She gave me what I wanted.

And I have no idea what to do with it.

That’s the problem.

That’s what makes her a threat.

Not her lies.

How fucking good she is at it.

I carry her wet clothes to the laundry room.Toss them into the wash.I need to get a sense of order back.Because without it?—

A knock at the door.

They never check just once.

Another knock.Heavier this time.Then the familiar scrape of boots on the porch.

I walk to the monitor.One look confirms it.

Same van.

Same man.

Only this time, he doesn’t wait.

He jiggles the handle.Knocks again.“Hello?”

I glance toward the hallway—she’s not in sight.

Yet.

I grab the wrench and open the front door.

“Good day,” he says, chipper.“Sorry to bug you again.Just wanted to knock this job out real quick.Someone pinged it as still open.”

I don’t answer.He’s already looking past me.

And that’s when it happens.

His eyes shift.Narrow.Focus.

Down the hall, she appears.Naked.

Like she’s still forgotten towels exist.