I step into the shower before turning on the taps. The cold water is a shock to my system, but I’m awake, and shivering as the warmth slowly calms down my erratic pulse. Closing my eyes, I breathe in the steam as it billows around me, and soon I’m calm again. But as I lean against the tiles, lathering my skin, I think back to the stranger. His tall, broad body was so imposing, it was as if he could pick me up and sling me over his shoulder.
The thoughts turn darker, more sordid, as I imagine him stealing me from my life of hiding, and claiming me as his. Thick fingers tease my flesh, and a gruff growl of pleasure rumbles in his chest as my own fingers fall between my thighs.
Pleasure rockets through me at the contact. I’m needy, slick with arousal. I don’t open my eyes. I can’t. As wrong as it is to fantasize about a dangerous stranger, I don’t stop because I need this.
I’m so close. Right on the edge when a crash startles me back to reality. Shutting off the taps, I step out on wobbly legs before wrapping myself in a towel. I wait in the bathroom, trying to listen for more sounds, but none come.
Barefoot, I pad into the bedroom, then make my way slowly to the kitchen, where I realize the window is open. My curtain sways in the wind. I find the broken glass in the sink, and for a moment, I sigh, but then I step closer to inspect the shards. Under the glass, placed neatly is an envelope.
My stomach churns with unease, and ice skitters down my spine. Gently shifting the glass, I pick up the thick white envelope which has my name scrawled on the front. I don’t recognize the handwriting, but when I flip it over, I find a wax sealed crest. It looks like wings, but there’s something sinister about them. They’re not soft looking, as if feathers, but instead, blades.
I drop it on the counter, not wanting to touch whatever is in it. I don’t know who put this here, but they must have been inside my apartment. The kitchen window is seven flights up with nothing on the other side. There is no balcony or landing for someone to stand on.
My gaze flicks across the room, the open plan living room kitchen area is empty, except for the furniture. There is no boogeyman standing and looking at me.
Silence hangs heavily over me. I can’t waste time with this, or I’ll be late for work. But I know I need to see what’s inside. My curiosity wins out and I break the seal, which has dread coursing through my veins.
Inside is a simple card. Thick, expensive paper in a cream color, with gold frame around the edges. Within the slim shimmering lines, is the same script as on the outside of the envelope.
Goldilocks,
Vengeance will be ours. The Fallen seek payment and you know why, little mouse. We’re watching you. We’ll come for you. When you least expect it, you will be ours.
The Fallen
I drop the card on the counter, shifting back until I hit the sink behind me. My vision blurs as I recall my father’s transgressions. I always knew someone would find me. But I didn’t think they’d be all the way over here, in another country. It seems my father’s sins are mine to pay.
If I run, they’ll find me. I have a feeling whoever these people are, they have the means to track me down no matter where I am. They’ve come all this way, which means one of the families my father destroyed needs revenge.
Sliding down against the cupboard, my butt hits the floor and I allow my tears to fall. It was stupid of me to think I could run from my past. I should have known no matter where I go, or what I do, my blood is still his. It runs through my veins, and now whoever this is has found me, they’ll find out how much like my dad I am.
If I call Mom, she’ll tell me to come home. But I can’t. I need to face these people and beg for their forgiveness. I can’t give up. I have to fight. It’s not my sins they’re angry for, it’s the man who’s behind bars. He’s paying for what he did.
With newfound confidence and anger running through my veins, I push to my feet and focus on the day. I need to get to work. The sooner I’m around people, the less scared I’ll be. I can’t let the note get to me.
I get dressed quickly, leaving the broken glass in the sink. I shut the window, ensuring it’s locked. Before I leave, I cast one last glance at the card on the counter, but I don’t touch it. If I don’t feel it in my fingers, perhaps it will disappear by the time I get home tonight. Deep down, I know I’m lying to myself.