Lost Boy - Ker Dukey Page 0,19

a student,” Charlotte gags.

“I am a student.”

“You go to classes three times a week, Liz. You’re hardly a scholar.”

“I’m sorry, what was your degree in again?” I taunt with a narrowed glare. I want to say cock doesn’t count, but refrain.

“I’m going to marry into money or just sponge off you when you use your college degree to get a high-flying job.” Don’t count on that. “Did you see that?” she gasps, and my heart skips.

“What?” I follow her to the window.

“Something moved in there, I’m telling you.”

“I don’t see anything.” I focus, narrowing my eyes. “It’s your imagination.”

Tick, tick, tick.

Something darts at the window, making us both scream and jolt back. My ankle smarts. Motherfucker. One of her cats walks across the windowsill like it’s on a model runway. “I nearly just had a heart attack.” Charlotte chuckles, a hand to her chest. “Is that thing safe with the window open?”

“Cats always land on their feet, right?” I cringe. “I can’t watch.”

Peeling the clothes from my sweaty body, I test the shower and groan when only cold water pours from the head. Charlotte drained the hot water. Taking a brave breath, I move under the spray, yelping when the icy blast explodes over my skin. I manage one minute before I get out, stuttering, my entire body shivering.

Collapsing on my bed, my ankle prickles, reminding me I injured it earlier tonight. Blue bruising is already blooming across my foot, and the ankle is two times bigger than the other. Perfect.

Rummaging through a pile of half dirty and half clean clothes, I pull out a pair of shorts and a tank top, tug them over my body, and crawl under the covers. The moon glows through the window. Feet overhead stomp around, drawing my eyes up briefly. I stare out at the moon, imagining the guy above me is doing the same thing. It’s not long before my interaction with the guy from earlier begins replaying in my head. The way he touched me like I was his… What would have happened had I not ran away like I always do? Maybe he would have kissed me, two strangers in the night sharing a moment. Am I just thinking the finger under my chin was too personal? Charlotte meets people on her app and an hour later shares her body with them. Maybe it’s normal.

I’m so lame. He was probably making sure I was okay, wanted to see my face to gage if I was in pain. Punching my pillow, I turn on my back and look up at the ceiling. I need to start pushing myself out of my comfort zone or these nights alone with my fingers and images of a neighbor I’ve never met will be all I have.

Seven

I’m running down the street naked, feet burning from the asphalt tearing at the soles. “Help me please! Anyone?” My lungs scream, but the street is deserted. The sun creeping over the horizon offers me its warm embrace. I run and run toward the sun, adrenaline pumping the blood in my veins. A gasp leaves my lips as someone steps out from the shadows, blocking my path, eclipsing the sun. A knife plunges into my stomach, stealing my breath. Blood pools around the steel blade. I wrap my hands around the handle and the hands holding it, hissing as it’s yanked from my skin and plunged back in, stealing my air—my life—my soul. My eyes travel the length of the killer’s body, his face masked in black. I reach up and scratch, pulling until the masks slips and green eyes bore down on me….

“No!” I bolt upright, my heart racing. A dull throb zaps in my ankle. My room is flooded with daylight. It was just a dream. You’re awake. Breathe. In, out. In, out.

Pushing myself to stand, a stinging in my palm causes me to wince in pain. Small dots of blood bubble from nail indents. Grabbing some tissue, I clean it up the best I can and slip into the bathroom to wash up.

“Her window was still open, but I didn’t see her again this morning. You think she’s okay?” Charlotte asks as I shuffle into the kitchen.

“Why wouldn’t she be?”

“Oh, I don’t know, there’s a killer lurking,” she scoffs.

Her words stab at my heart, my dream lingering. “I think you’re overreacting. I also think you need to stop spying on the neighbor.” I grab a mug and pour some coffee.

“She’s the one usually watching us.”

“Maybe she