Page 122 of Misery

"Did you look at it?"

"Yes." No hesitation. "I needed to know what he had. If there were other threats. Other people involved."

"And?"

"It's worse than what I did. Much worse. Cameras in your old apartment. Your bedroom. Your bathroom. Audio recordings of you sleeping. Photos from inside your apartment while you were there." His jaw tightens. "He documented everything. Every shower. Every nightmare. Every private moment you thought you had."

"But you watched too."

"From outside. Through windows. Never... not like this. This is possession. Ownership. Violation on a level I never crossed."

"And what about your surveillance? Is that on here too?"

He pulls out a second drive. "Six months of reports. Photos. Documentation. Everything I gave to Runes. Everything I kept for myself."

Two drives. Two men watching. Two violations packaged in plastic and metal.

"Why are you giving these to me?"

"Because you deserve the truth. All of it. And you deserve to decide what to do with it."

I look at the drives, then at him. "There's a difference, isn't there? Between what you did and what he did?"

"Is there?"

"You tell me."

He steps closer, not touching but near enough that I can smell the gunpowder and blood still clinging to him. "I watched. I documented. I reported. But I never recorded you in private moments. Never put cameras in your home. Never took photos of you sleeping or changing. Never stole your things."

"Just watched me paint."

"From the fire escape. Through a window you left open." He pauses. "Still wrong. Still a violation. But not the same as what's on that drive."

"How did you get the flash drive?"

"His girlfriend told us. Eleyna. She found his room. Saw everything."

"Girlfriend?" Somehow this makes it worse. "He had a girlfriend while stalking me?"

"She was a cover, and she didn't know until today." He shifts slightly. "She's the reason we found your father in time. She gave us Thiago's location. Helped us get in."

"Where is she now?"

"Gone. Starting over somewhere else. Trying to forget she loved a monster."

The word hangs between us. Monster. Is that what they both are? Orwere?

"Show me," I say suddenly. "Your surveillance. I want to see what you wrote."

"Elfe—"

"No. I need to know. Need to see the difference for myself."

He takes the drive back, pulls out his phone, and accesses the files. Hands it to me.

I scroll through.

Reports, clinical at first.