The Feature

III

You finally understood what people meant when they said 'my soul left my body'. Because for a moment, you were sure you'd felt it. Your skin grew cold and your lungs deflated, your bones turning hollow as his voice echoed through them.

It was as if you were witnessing the interaction play out from the other side of the room, like a ghostly spectator, watching yourself rise from the bed with a startled gasp, Benedict standing in the doorway.

"I... I- I was... erm-"

You saw the moment his eyes fell to the laptop on the bed, the realisation washing over him as you clutched your phone in your hand, turning his complexion almost as pallid as your own.

"Were you taking pictures?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper, lines forming between his brows.

He walked across the room and moved you aside gently to get a glimpse of the laptop screen, the emails reflecting in his stunned blue eyes. He turned to look down at you, his gaze flitting between your horrified face and the phone in your hand, neither of you saying anything; both scared, but for entirely different reasons.

You noticed his fingers twitch at his side, his chest rising and falling quickly, and you knew immediately what he was about to do. You took a step back as he made a swipe for the phone, pulling your arm out of his reach just in time. He stared down at you, stunned by your audacity, and truthfully, so were you.

"Give it to me," he said.

"Can we just talk about-"

He made another attempt to snatch it, instead catching you by the wrist as you tried to dodge him again. You tightened your grip on the phone as he pulled you towards him, battling with you to prise it from your fingers.

"No," you gasped as you felt your hold loosening, until you finally let go completely.

He took the phone from you and held it above his head where you couldn't reach, like a playground bully teasing a child much smaller than himself. You gave up and let your arms drop to your sides, watching as he turned his body away from you and began trying to unlock it.

You shook your head. "I'm not giving you the pass-"

He turned back and held the screen up to you, unlocking it immediately with Face ID.

You huffed.

"Wow," he gave a disappointed sigh as he scrolled through the phone. "So taking photos of people's private emails, is that common practice or?" he asked sarcastically.

"I'm really sorry..." you said quietly, sternly, like you were trying to convince yourself just as much as him. "Just delete them."

He looked down at you. "Thank you, I hadn't thought of that."

You rolled your eyes.

"Did you send them to anyone?" he asked.

"No."

"Mm. Forgive me for not trusting you."

You glanced down to see him scrolling through your emails; your outbox, sent box, drafts, trash.

"I told you," you said. "I swear I didn't send-"

"What about texts..."

Your eyes widened, your heart rattling in your chest. "Don't-"

You reached out to snatch the phone from him, but he turned quickly, stepping back and watching as you stumbled onto the bed. You tried to stand but he held his index finger up at you, like he was instructing you to stay, to be quiet, to behave, before returning his attention to the phone.