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The moment I’m inside, I slam the door behind me and lean against it, chest heaving, palms damp. Okay, so maybe I’m overreacting. Maybe Daniel left of his own volition… that’s possible, right?

Without thinking, I grab my phone and call Lena.

“Hey bitch,” she greets me. “Listen, I can’t really talk right now. I’m on my way to Albert’s office to discuss the B- he just gave me on—”

I interrupt her. “Lee, please come over when you’re done.”

Chapter8

Piper

As the hours crawl by after my call to Lena ends, I do everything humanly possible not to think about the envelopes stacked in the bottom drawer of my desk. I put on loud music and clean my apartment. When I’m done with that, I settle at my desk and send out even more applications.

Then I search for Daniel online. Thanks to Georgetown’s student network, it’s not hard to find he’s from a small town in the midwest—Galena, to be exact. After getting this far in my search, it doesn’t take long to find his new job which, indeed, is at a fastfood chain. It’s only the fifth I click on, and there it is, his scowling face on the staff roster.

What the hell possesses a man to go from Georgetown to milkshakes and fries? I don’t get it. Unless… no. No. Thinking that there’s more to it than a change of heart is ridiculous… isn’t it?

When I finally get up again, my body cracks and protests, my limbs creak like old floorboards. I’ve been so focused I haven’t realized it’s dark outside. After turning off my laptop, I go from room to room, switching the lights on.

But without anything to occupy me, the shadows feel like they’re clinging. They don’t need darkness—just my doubt. Not to mention the guilt gnawing at me. I don’t want to believe I’m the reason Daniel left, yet a voice in the back of my mind insists that I’m to blame.

Tiredness makes me yawn, and I’m tempted to lie down on my bed. But since Lena’s going to show up at any minute now, I decide on a shower instead.

I twist the shower handle all the way. The water slams down, boiling hot. Steam rises instantly, curling through the room like smoke from a fire no one will put out. I strip quickly, skin already prickling as I step under the spray.

The burn grounds me as I stand there, chest heaving as I let the waterscald away the static crawling under my skin. I barely breathe. I just let the water roar until it’s louder than whatever I’m feeling.

I keep my hair dry since I don’t want to take the time to wash it. When I step out, steam curls around me like a second skin. It fills my lungs, coats the mirror, muffles the light. I dry off without thinking; towel to skin, breath held, muscles twitching.

There’s no shutting up my mind. Thoughts about Daniel play on a never-ending loop. I did what the stranger demanded, though. I played by his fucked up rules. I swallow thickly as I step into fresh panties and put on a clean bra.

If the note is true, I guess I saved Daniel’s life by rejecting him. That’s how I should look at it. So why do I feel so guilty? I didn’t do any of this. Reaching for my robe, I shrug it on. Once I’ve tied it, I glance toward the mirror and lift my hand to clear the fog.

Everything stops as I see the message scrawled across the mirror. The condensation is running, making the words pool like wounds.

You’re mine, Piper!

My breath catches, and I quickly back away, but the words follow. I blink, half expecting them to disappear, to unwrite themselves. They don’t. A sudden noise from the hallway makes me freeze. My brain scrambles to come up with a plan when the bathroom door swings open.

Lena bursts into the bathroom, startling me into a scream. “What the hell?” I slap my hand across my heart as though I can calm the organ. “What are you doing here?” I ask, my tone accusatory.

She furrows her brows in confusion. “What’s wrong with you, Pipes? You asked me to come over.”

Did I? Oh, right, yes, I did. Shit, that conversation feels like it happened in another life, not just hours ago.

“Bitch, why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” she asks, tilting her head to the side and narrowing her eyes.

In answer, I point a trembling hand toward the mirror, watching as she turns to look. The fog on the glass has lifted enough that I can see the way her confusion sharpens to concern the moment she notices the words.

“What is this?” she questions, somehow managing to keep her voice both soft and demanding.

“It’s… I think… It’s him, Lee,” I ramble, barely able to form coherent words.

“Him?”

When my mouth opens and closes several times with no other words following, she wraps an arm around me and guides me out of the room.She holds on tight, like she’s afraid I might break if she lets go.

Lena pulls me into the kitchen, sits me down at the table. I stay frozen, the chair cold beneath me, the air too dense to breathe. She moves with purpose—filling the kettle, grabbing mugs.