Page 4 of Fright Night (Twisted Holidays #3)

FOUR

OAKLEY

He’s here. I know it. I feel it.

There hasn’t been a moment today where I haven’t been searching for him. Work was spent with me sitting on what felt like literal pins and needles, which has been very distracting, considering my never-ending list of tasks to do before the event in a couple days.

I’ve been just waiting for Knox to make an appearance.

He never did, leaving me at one point to rewatch the video, half convinced that my sleepy mind made the entire thing up.

What if it’s not him? What if he’s putting someone up to it, to torment me into believing it’s him?

That’d be exactly Knox’s level of assholery.

Dealing with Knox on top of Julian takes the fucking cake. An hour into work, I finally got around to reading Julian’s three texts, all sent around six a.m.

J

Where’s my money?

Tick tock, Oak, or else daddy and mommy will learn of your whoring ways…

Don’t forget, the 31st is approaching.

Like I could ever forget the second biggest mistake of my life. Second to ratting on Knox. Dating Julian at all, and ever getting on my knees for him—unaware at the time how a blowjob became ammo against me.

Our loathsome deal is for the final day of the month, which isn’t today, so once finished seething over the messages, I delete them. As I do every month, never wanting to see his name in my phone.

I leave work a bit earlier than normal to stop by the park and ensure set-up is going according to plan. The team’s been working hard, and vendors are using today to get their booths in place. Tomorrow morning, the food trucks will be setting up, and then it’s a matter of final checks.

Working at City Hall, even on the event planning team, wasn’t my life’s goals, but Henry insisted and got the job lined up for me. Once I passed the interview, it was mine.

That was over a year ago and I hate every second of it.

My dream was to go to school, to gain a bit of business know-how before opening an event planning business.

So yes, I’m basically doing what I want, which has made the Halloween event—the biggest I’ve organized so far—super exciting, but I didn’t work for it.

Being handed a job reminds me of Mom’s entire marriage to him.

It’s like they’re using one another, and not working my way up the ranks doesn’t sit well with me.

But when I bring up going back to school while still keeping my role at City Hall, Mom brushes me off with a reminder of a shopping trip she insists I attend or Henry reminds me of the connections working alongside him can have.

Why I even bother anymore is beyond me.

Which reminds me of the breakfast I’m stuck attending tomorrow morning. Normally, it’s dinner and not so soon after recently seeing them, but with the upcoming holiday, Mom was insistent.

Another meal I have zero desire to attend.

The walk from City Hall to the park is only a few blocks and my pace remains swift. The October breeze blows harshly on my legs, making me question why a skirt over pants was my choice when dressing. Coupled with the chill, another kind trails me. The kind one gets when being watched.

He’s nearby. No matter how many peeks over my shoulder, there’s nothing around. The road, being midday, is fairly quiet with only the occasional car driving by and none slow enough to suggest one is carrying Knox.

There’s nothing here…yet he is. He must be.

Sinking my hands into the pockets of my coat, my shoulders lift to my ears. Partly for warmth and partly to rid the sensation slinking down my spine. If Knox is nearby, I wish he’d make himself known and get the pain over with.

He’s not back to play tricks. He’s back for revenge.

Because I fucked up.

After his arrest, I attempted to fix my mistake by insisting to Henry that I lied to the police and should be the one in trouble, not Knox.

That it was a stupid game that inadvertently went too far.

Henry seemed to believe me, though begrudgingly, but nothing ever came of it, no matter how far my insistence to get the charges entirely dropped went.

He claimed the best he could do was knock the drug possession and dealing charges to community service rather than jail, but we both knew what utter bullshit that was.

I’ve witnessed the man talk about so many backdoor and shady deals for crimes worse than Knox’s accusations, but he suddenly “couldn’t” help his own son. Wouldn’t is more likely.

I’d believe it made no sense, except I’ve watched them interact many times, and it never ended well.

Henry used the arrest to get rid of Knox; that much is obvious. For whatever reason, Henry didn’t want me to have any contact with him because no matter how much I begged, he wouldn’t hand over his location, only later learning he also took Knox’s phone, leaving the number in my contacts useless.

Brushing aside thoughts of Knox, I arrive at the city park that stretches the block and is surrounded by a fence, half of it consumed by the Halloween fair.

After greeting the staff setting up the sign atop two looming pumpkin stacks, I tread the makeshift path that’s been created by fake pumpkins lit by battery-powered lights, to give the illusion of flames when switched on.

The path branches off into a few different directions: a hay barrel maze to my right that consumes a massive chunk of the park—a magnificent feat, truly—the food section to the other, a face painting booth in front of me, circus tents with different kinds of spooky shows and a House of Mirrors, and other smaller games meant to entertain some of the younger kids.

I stop by each one, checking if there’s anything needed. Staff still setting up tents confirm things are on track, so I check in with the electrical team who’s been running wires everywhere, while also trying to hide them beneath cable covers for safety.

Once finished, I start towards home and the prickling sensation trails me there.

Home should be relaxing. Should be, anyway.

It’s not.

After spending most of the evening pointlessly staring out the window, I go to bed. Just because Knox showed up once doesn’t change the fact that tomorrow is busy and staying anxiously awake for him is unhealthy.

After triple checking my front door and every single window throughout the house, reassuring myself they are indeed locked tightly, I slide into bed and beneath my blanket.

My eyes drift to the note on my bedside table; the one he hid beneath my mattress. I kept it because…well, I don’t really know why. Proof I’m not making any of this up.

To sleep, I slip it inside the drawer before it becomes my unwanted focus all night.

My eyes slide shut, the day wearing on me, and with my hand clutched around the blanket for safety, I attempt to sleep.

An hour passes and still nothing. My eyes remain shut, but my mind is too active. Every crack of the house reacting to the wind has me tensing, listening for the accompanying steps that would indicate Knox’s presence.

With a lengthy sigh, I inhale and exhale deeply, willing myself to drift away on the exhale.

Thud.

I shoot upright in bed, strands of hair flinging into my face.

That was the front door! He’s here.

Doing exactly what people scream at movie actors not to do, I get out of bed and rush for my shut bedroom door.

Now, I understand why characters in horror movies run towards the killer.

There’s an innate feeling of needing to see the danger with their own eyes, to make the decision on how to best react.

I have to see he’s here and real and back before figuring out what exactly he wants.

I fling open my bedroom door and streak down the hallway, my bare feet making slapping noises. At the end of the hall, my living room…is empty. The front door remains as locked as it was when I went to bed.

Ugh. With a rub of my face, I return to bed.

Tap, tap, tap.

This time, it comes from my window, and pulling the blanket up to my face, I glare at it. A curtain hangs covering the view, but there’s no shadows revealing him looming outside.

Tap, tap, tap.

This time, I refuse to get up and entertain this torment. It’d make him triumphant.

Tap, tap, tap.

Groaning, I yank the blanket over my head and push the pillow into my ears to attempt blocking the noise.

Tap, tap, tap.

“Go. Away.” It’s uttered to the empty—hopefully empty?—room. He couldn’t have heard me from outside, but saying it satisfies me.

Tap, tap, tap.

Tap, tap, tap.

Tap, tap, tap.

“Ugh!”

Throwing the blanket off, I swing my legs from bed and head for the window, ripping open the curtain, hating he’s won this round.

As expected, there’s no one on the other side, and pressing as close to the pane as possible, I peer around the yard and at surrounding houses. It’s almost impossible with how dark it is, the streetlights only providing so much of a glow.

With a resigned sigh, I slide the curtain closed again and return to bed.

Eventually, I doze, this time to silence.

Dozing only gets me so far, and I’m pretty sure it’s a result of exhaustion more than anything. It’s four in the morning and I’ve gotten maybe an hour of broken sleep.

Work is about to suck, but breakfast with my parents will suck more. When around them, it’s an all-brain-power on deck sort of thing. Which is the exact opposite of what I will be capable of.

Given the fact that sleep will not be happening, there’s little point in avoiding the side effects of blue light, so I pick up my phone for some research.

First: a popular social media app he used to use.

I’ll admit to having stalked his page on more than one occasion during his absence, but he seems to have stopped using it entirely, considering the last post he put up was from that fateful party that ended with his arrest. No picture, just a text post—a green leaf emoji accompanied by a black heart.