Page 125 of Wicked Little Darling

He couldn’t even say goodbye? He couldn’t leave me a note or tell mesorry I have to go but I’ll be back, don’t worry?

He just fuckingleft. Without a single word.

Andgod, I was so annoyed with myself. Just because someone I’d met four months ago wasn’t answering my calls or texts, I was losing my mind.

Fuck that.

I didn’t give a shit.

I didn’t give a single shit.

He could do whatever the hell he wanted, he didn’t have to inform me. I wasn’t his goddamn keeper.

But I wanted to be,god,did I want to be.

So where was he, damn it?

Two days.

It had been two days since he’d disappeared without a word. We’d woken up, gone our separate ways to class, and I hadn’t seen him since.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d kissed me that morning. Slow and lazy, like he wanted to savor every second, like there was no rush, no end point, just the slow way his lips had moved over mine, the teasing way he’d nipped at me, his low laughs as I rubbed myself against him, his whispered words, begging me to touch him, to slip my hands under his shirt, scrape my nails against his back, to keep touching him, don’t stop touching him.

He’d kissed me like that, and then he’d disappeared.

When he never responded to my texts that first day, I figured he was busy or his phone had died and I’d see him soon enough anyway.

But then he never came back to the dorm that evening. I waited and waited and waited. I tried to study and failed because I kept glancing at the door, confused and worried out of my mind.

But he never came back.

That night, I hugged my pillow and stared at his empty bed in the dim light of his night light. For the first time, I was afraid ofthe dark. Of total darkness. I was afraid of falling asleep without him there, afraid of the nightmares that had dwindled since I’d been here, afraid that I’d sleepwalk and there’d be no one around to stop me.

I hadn’t sleepwalked this much since after the accident. After everyone was gone. The stress of it all had given me night terrors, too, and more often than not, I screamed myself awake at night. It had calmed down over the years, but I thought the stress of getting transferred and everything that happened before and after was enough to set it off again.

In Dakota’s absence, I realized exactly how much he was doing for me, how much my life had changed for the better because of him, and the fear of not having that anymore rooted itself inside me, twisting hard, spindly limbs around my organs.

I used one of his neckties to tether my arm to the bedpost so that I’d stay here while I slept—that was how scared I was. I took one of his shirts, too—just to hold it, to smell it, hoping it could soothe me enough that I’d be able to fall asleep.

The light from the moon shifted across the floor with every passing hour, and sleep didn’t come.

Had something happened to him? Was he hurt? What if something truly awful had happened? How would I even fucking know? Should I go out looking for him? Should I try to find his brother? Should I ask the dean?

The next morning, I fell asleep just when the sun was rising, and when I woke up an hour later, I immediately looked over to his bed.

He wasn’t there. It was still made up neatly, like it was every morning.

I was seriously considering finding his brother or talking to the dean.

I didn’t want to talk to the dean. Not at all.

I called Dakota for the umpteenth time to see if his phone was still on or not.

It was on.

It rang and rang and rang and went to voicemail, and for lack of anything better to say thanWhere are you, you goddamned bastard? Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been? Are you okay?I hung up without saying anything at all.

I texted him again.