The power came back on after 3 a.m. By then, I wasn't in bed anymore. I was huddled in the corner, wrapped in a blanket, the blindfold on the floor like a lie I'd tossed away. The mirror showed my reflection, barely lit by the moonlight seeping through the curtains. My heart wouldn't slow down since that last whisper in my ear: You're mine now.
I hadn't moved in almost an hour. Every little noise in the house sounded like him. Every bit of wind in the trees felt like his breath was close to me.
His gift still sat on my nightstand, a note stuck to it that felt like a promise: Daniel doesn't get you. But I do.
It wasn't the first time someone had said something like that. But it was the first time I wished it were true.
I should have deleted everything and blocked him. Told Daniel everything, too.
Instead, I put the note in the drawer and opened my photos again.
Caleb looked back at me. Stuck in time. But now, he has a question.
Was he watching me? Did he leave that note?
Had he cut his own eyes out in the photo?
My fingers shook as I zoomed in again. The cuts were clean, done with something sharp. But the ink around the edges was smudged a bit, like someone had pressed on it hard. Someone had been there, touched him through the picture.
Just like I had.
I closed the photo, turned off the screen, and got up to wash the memory off.
The water was hot, almost burning. I wanted to wash the ache away, the guilt from my skin.
But I just kept thinking about his voice. His smell. His promise.
Next time, you scream.
I leaned my head against the tile, one hand pressed between my legs, the other on the wall.
You're mine now, he'd said.
And it wasn't just a threat—it was something real that I had let happen.
I touched myself slowly, scared. But I couldn't get there.
Not without him telling me to. Not when I was waiting for him to say so.
By the time I got out of the shower, I was shaking again—from being upset, from wanting it, from a fear I was starting to enjoy.
I dried off, put on a satin robe, and went out into the hallway.
Daniel's car was gone. He'd left during the blackout.
There was a note on the kitchen counter:
Didn't want to wake you. Got to go in early. Back tonight. Love you.
He didn't suspect anything or ask any questions.
But I couldn't stop thinking that he knew something. What if he didn't go to work?
What if he was the one who—
No.
Daniel didn't have that voice. That fire. That rough, caring side.
Still, I wondered.
What if he wasn't as clueless as I thought?
I walked through the house, every dark spot looking bigger than normal. The air felt wrong—too warm, too still—like someone who shouldn't be here had been breathing it in.
I checked the front door. Still locked.
I looked at the windows. All locked.
But there it was.
A smudge on the glass in the hallway that led to Room 3.
A fingerprint.
I touched mine next to it. Not the same. Too big, too tough.
The masked man had been here.
Or was still here.
Later that afternoon, I was staring at the wedding photo again.
I hadn't moved it or touched it.
But something was off.
There was a red lipstick mark now, right on Caleb's lips.
I stepped back, my heart going crazy.
I hadn't worn lipstick in weeks, since the first message. And I never kissed that photo.
Someone had to have it.
And they wanted me to know it.
The doorbell rang.
I jumped.
I didn't expect anyone.
I ran to the window and looked through the curtain.
A delivery guy was there, holding pink roses. No van, no company name. Just him, and a box in his other hand.
I opened the door slowly.
"Delivery for Sophia," he said.
I nodded, my voice dry. "Who are they from?"
He just shrugged. "Just told to drop these off. And the box, too."
I took them. He left without saying another word.
Inside the box was a black velvet choker with a metal flame.
I gasped.
The note said:
Wear it tonight. Midnight. Room 3. On your knees.
You didn't listen last time.
Now you scream. Or I will make you regret it.
My hand shook as I felt the velvet.
Had I not listened?
Had I followed every single thing he'd asked?
Except for one.
I hadn't finished.
Because he hadn't let me.
But he'd said Next time.
What if not finishing was the same as not listening?
The day went by weird. I couldn't eat or sit still.
I kept thinking about the note, the lipstick, the message on the mirror.
I looked at the choker for what felt like forever before I put it on.
I snapped it around my neck and pulled it tight.
I spoke to no one:
"I'm ready."
11:57 p.m.
I stood outside Room 3, nothing under my robe.
The pendant sat right in front of my heart.
The door opened.
Smoke came out. Familiar cedar, musk, and heat.
I went inside.
This time, candles were everywhere.
The seat was in the middle of the space, covered in red velvet. And next to it was a mirror. Facing me.
He was behind it. I could only see his reflection. Masked, black suit, no tie, shirt unbuttoned enough to see skin I had thought was a dream.
"Take off the robe," he said.
I did.
He came closer to the mirror, always behind it. Never touching.
"Get on your knees."
I knelt, facing myself.
He moved around me slowly.
"Do you know why I picked this room?"
I shook my head.
He knelt behind me too.
"Because the mirrors tell the truth. And I like watching you see it."
His hand went between my legs. I gasped.
But he still didn't let me be happy.
"You won't scream tonight," he whispered. "You'll beg."
I whimpered, pressed my legs together. He pulled them apart.
His breath moved me.
And then—
A new voice came from the hallway.
"Sophia?"
Daniel.
I froze.
The masked man went away.
I went for the robe, my hands shaking.
"Sophia? Are you in there?"
Daniel was getting closer.
I stood and wrapped the robe around me.
The mirror still showed the seat and the candles.
But the masked man was gone.
Except for something he left.
On the mirror, written in red:
I warned you. You're mine.
I just turned around in time.
The door opened.
Daniel came in.
He saw the room, the candles, the robe, the mirror, and me.
He looked confused and hurt.
"What is all this?"
My heart was beating so fast.
The choker still felt hot.
And I couldn't say a thing.