the fridge and set about with my cleaning duties. Later that evening when I go to make dinner, I see that he still hasn’t had his lunch. I debate once more about risking his anger and taking some food in for him. Then I decide against it.
I’ve made a light dinner, in case he might want that instead of his lunch, and head into the gym for a workout.
Jamie and I used to do this in the hotel gym at the end of our shifts, especially on a typically bad day. Ten minutes on the treadmill, five minutes on the vertical climber and five minutes on the rowing machine. It’s not easy to make myself do this alone. With Jamie it never seemed like such hard work because we’d be talking and he’d be making jokes. It says something about my current state of mind and where I am, that I’ve chosen to do a workout instead of going out or watching TV.
Loneliness is hard for me to handle, and boredom doesn’t help.
I move onto some light weights, and then I open up my yoga mat in the corner and do a few yoga poses. The stretches and breathing exercises make me calmer, stretch my muscles, and take all the knots and kinks out of my body. I end with my favorite yoga move of all, lying on the mat with my eyes closed, and my legs out and my hands on the side, breathing and trying to clear my mind.
I’m floating.
Floating, floating, floating.
Then I see Ward at his desk, tap, tap, tapping away with his favorite pen.
I try to clear my mind, to erase that image.
But it flashes into my head again.
He’s tap, tap, tap, tapping.
I hear a noise and my eyes fly open.
Ward’s dark hypnotic eyes stare down at me.
Jesus.
I’m about to bolt upright, except I’m paralyzed and I can’t move. A gasp falls out of my lips at the sight of him standing over me. The words ‘axe murderer’ flash before my eyes in blood red letters and I stare quickly at his hands.
My heart almost shoots out of my mouth.
“I didn’t mean to snap at you,” he says.
“What?” I manage to sit up, seeing that he isn’t carrying an instrument with which to kill me. But I can’t help feeling scared. After all, he crept into here and I didn’t even hear him.
Then I remember that his girlfriend died under mysterious circumstances. What does that mean, mysterious circumstances?
How long has he been here? Feeling a little underdressed in my sports bra and clingy yoga pants I hug my knees up towards my chest in the hope that they’ll give me some cover. Ward is still standing, towering over me, and I’m sitting hunched up on the mat.
I promise to inspect every inch of the house in thorough detail tomorrow looking for bugs and hidden cameras.
“When I said I was going to lose it.” His voice is gruff, and he’s wearing the same clothes he wore earlier. “I didn’t mean I was going to lose it, my temper. I meant I was going to lose the plot I had in my head.”
I blink. He looks rough, and even though his beard is shorter and trimmed, his face looks rough.
His words don’t make sense, because I’m so scared. How did he know I’d be in here? Is he following me around? Are there hidden cameras in this place. I shiver. My stomach empties. I stand up slowly, acutely aware that I’m the only one here with him. This man has many moods, and personalities, and he scares the hell out of me. “Did you come looking for me?” I ask, my voice shaky, and sounding like a child’s.
As if he can sense my trepidation, he takes a step back. “I came to use the gym.”
But do I believe him?
“Have you finished?” he asks, not getting on any of the machines yet. It’s as if he’s waiting for me to leave.
I take a few calming breaths and start to level my breathing. He wants to use the gym. He didn’t come here to spy on me. I remind myself that he’s been cooped up in the study all day and that he hadn’t eaten lunch. “Have you been writing all day?”
He nods.
“You didn’t eat your lunch.”
“Lunch?” He asks, as if it’s an alien concept. We’re standing a foot or two apart, his gaze falls to my stomach. He moves towards the treadmill but doesn’t get on it.
“You must have