Page 22 of He Should Be Mine

There’s a pause. Something shifts in his eyes, like he wants to say something important.

But of course, he doesn’t.

Instead, he murmurs, “Yeah. It is.”

It’s barely words. He doesn’t even look at me as he more or less grunts them. But it still makes my heart flutter like a crazy thing trapped inside my chest.

And for the first time in a long time, I feel... something. Safe, possibly? Wanted?

No. That’s too dangerous to believe.

But maybe, just maybe, I’m not quite so alone. I think I can allow myself to believe that.

And it feels damn nice. Today really has been the best day ever.

Chapter seven

Molly

Darkness. Pressing down on me. Suffocating me. Holding me down so all the bad things can get me.

The dream is fading, but it is mixing with reality and blurring the edges. I don’t know what’s real and what’s not.

The room is dark. The blinds are down, and for some reason my string of fairy lights is off. They must have broken while I was asleep. Is that what caused my nightmare, or is it simply an unhappy coincidence?

Who knows. Who cares. I’m alone in the dark and it’s awful. I’m sweating and I can’t breathe. Horrid noises are spilling out of me. Any minute now my heart is going to rupture from beating so fast.

How can such a perfect day end like this? Shopping my little heart out, followed by tea at Harrods, where Dario admitted he wasn’t having an awful time. It all should have filled my psyche with warmth and joy. My dreams should have been pleasant.

I don’t understand why the horrors that haunt me have risen up. Why have they awoken? Why now?

My evening was just as lovely as my day. Dario made his amazing spag bol, and we watched a stupid reality dating show on Netflix.

It really must just be the lights breaking that has triggered this all-consuming panic. I’m such a baby. It’s tragic. God knows there are things in this world that can hurt you far more than shadows can. The real monsters are all human. And they don’t hide in the dark. They don’t need to.

Suddenly, the bedroom door swings open. I squeal in fright and cower. It’s still mostly pitch-black because the hallway lights are busted.

“Molly, wake up!” Dario says from the doorway.

Fuck. I’m far too ashamed to tell him I am already awake. So instead, I make a show of gasping and scrambling up to a sitting position. If he can’t see me, he can hear the movement.

He heard my pathetic whimpers? And cared enough to come wake me up? That’s… something. Something potentially wonderful that I can’t even begin to untangle. It’s also deeply cringeworthy because I had no idea the walls were so thin. He must hear everything when Rick visits, and I hate the thought of that. Hate it with a passion that burns with the heat of a thousand suns.

“You okay now?” he asks.

Far from it. Very far from it.

“No,” I say, and I hate how very small my voice is. “It’s dark.”

The sound of the light switch clicking is almost deafening. Dario swears. “When did your light break?”

I shrug, even though he can’t see it. “A while ago.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you are not the maintenance man?”

“I can call them.”