The Room Next Door

Chapter-8

Natasha's POV:

Regret gnawed at me as I lay on my bed, feeling like the world's biggest fool. "Why did I say yes?" I groaned, my head throbbing. The craving for intoxication coursed through my body, a constant temptation. Amidst the turmoil, I found myself questioning my life's direction. I was adrift, uncertain of my desires, my purpose, or if I even had one.

People often distinguish between living and merely surviving, but I felt lost somewhere in between. I didn't want to embrace life, nor did I seek death's solace. I didn't even want to endure. It was like drowning, with a lifeline around my neck that both saved and suffocated me. Memories of my past haunted me-the echoes of my mother's disappointment and the scars my father concealed under hoodies.

Suddenly, a knock jolted me from my thoughts. "Who is it?" I asked. "Me, Ethan. It's 7:05 PM."

Opening the door, I instantly regretted my decision. "Natasha, you look unwell. How about dinner? My treat," Ethan suggested with a reassuring smile. It was an unexpected relief, though I couldn't fathom why. "Okay, just give me 5 minutes to get ready," I replied, closing the door hastily.

I settled for a white top paired with a pink cardigan and flare jeans, trying to appear presentable without conveying any romantic interest. After a quick application of concealer and lip tint, I tied my hair into a bun and joined him outside.

To my surprise, Ethan stood there, dressed in his signature black suit with a white shirt. It struck me as odd-did he own multiple identical suits? His clothes always seemed impeccably clean.

"I'm ready," I announced. He looked up, offering a warm smile. "Very well, let's go."

As we got into his car, he turned on the radio, filling the vehicle with the aroma of a coffee shop. It seemed genuine, as though coffee had accidentally spilled there.

"You'll never know the psychopath sitting next to you
You'll never know the murderer sitting next to you," the song played, and I observed Ethan mumbling along. It was an eerie feeling, hearing those lyrics from him. Anything involving Ethan felt peculiar, and this was no exception.

"We're here," Ethan declared as he parked the car, opening the door for me. I stepped out, smiling softly at him. "You go in; I'll return after parking the car."

Inside, I found myself in a sushi restaurant-a pleasant surprise. Ethan asked about my sushi preferences, and I replied, "I like tuna, specifically spicy tuna rolls." He ordered five pieces of spicy tuna sushi for me and some Salmon Avocado sushi.

Curiosity piqued, Ethan inquired, "So, why do you live in that apartment? Your clothes and necklace suggest a more affluent lifestyle." It was a fair question, considering I had taken what I could when leaving my previous home, or rather, being thrown out. I replied, "Just trying to save money. What about you? You wear suits and drive a car. Why live there?" He grinned and replied, "Just saving money." He had a knack for being annoying.

I continued to engage in polite conversation with Ethan as we sat in the sushi restaurant. His question about my living situation lingered in my mind, but I decided to let it go for now. Instead, I focused on the delicious sushi in front of me, savoring each bite.

As we chatted about mundane topics like work and hobbies, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off about him. Maybe it was the lyrics he had been singing in the car, or perhaps it was the way he looked at me when he thought I wasn't paying attention. There was an unsettling aura around him, like he was hiding something beneath his charming facade.

Ethan, on the other hand, seemed perfectly at ease, as if he had nothing to hide. He shared stories from his childhood and talked about his favorite travel destinations. It was all so normal, yet I couldn't escape the nagging suspicion that there was more to him than met the eye.

As the evening wore on, Ethan's behavior became increasingly peculiar. He kept glancing around the restaurant as if he were expecting someone or something. His phone buzzed multiple times, and each time he quickly silenced it and placed it face-down on the table.

"Is everything okay?" I finally asked, unable to ignore the growing unease in the pit of my stomach.

Ethan looked at me with a reassuring smile. "Oh, it's just work stuff, nothing to worry about."

But I wasn't convinced. His response only heightened my suspicion. I decided to play it cool and continued our conversation, all the while keeping a close eye on his every move.

As we finished our meal, Ethan excused himself to go to the restroom. I took this opportunity to discreetly glance at his phone. It was a risky move, but my instincts were telling me that something was seriously wrong with this man.

I reached out, my fingers trembling slightly, and flipped his phone over. I expected to see a flurry of messages or calls, but instead, there was just one notification. It was a text message from an unknown number, and it simply read, "It's done."

My heart raced as I tried to make sense of the message. What was "done," and why did it seem so ominous? I quickly placed the phone back exactly where I found it, my mind racing with a million questions.

Ethan returned to the table, seemingly unaware of my brief investigation. He smiled again and asked if I wanted dessert, but I declined, my appetite suddenly gone. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was sitting across from a dangerous person.

We left the restaurant, and as we walked back to his car, I couldn't help but glance at Ethan's face, searching for any sign of guilt or deception. But his expression remained unchanged, as if he were simply a gentleman escorting me back to our apartment.

Once we were inside the car, the eerie song from earlier began playing on the radio once more. "You'll never know the psychopath sitting next to you. You'll never know the murderer sitting next to you." The lyrics sent shivers down my spine, and I couldn't hide my discomfort.

"Ethan, can you please turn off the radio?" I asked, my voice trembling.

He obliged without hesitation, but I could see a hint of annoyance in his eyes. "Sorry, I didn't realize it was bothering you."

While he drove, I realised that it was a bit weird. I've heard the radio play the same song, heathens. It struck me, maybe that's the song he has put on to play repeatedly.

We drove in silence for a while, and I couldn't stop my mind from racing. What was Ethan involved in, and should I be afraid for my safety? I knew I had to be cautious, but I also needed more information before jumping to conclusions.

When we arrived back at our apartment building, I hesitated before getting out of the car. "Thank you for dinner, Ethan," I said, trying to sound as polite as possible.

He smiled again, his eyes locking onto mine in a way that sent a chill down my spine. "It was my pleasure, Natasha. We should do it again sometime. You go in, I'll comeback after parking the car."

I forced a small smile and nodded, not wanting to provoke him in any way. As I exited the car and closed the door, I couldn't help but watch as he drove away. Something about him was deeply unsettling.

Back in my apartment room, I paced nervously. I knew I couldn't confront Ethan directly; that would be too dangerous and if this is just my overthinking, I'll hurt his feelings. Instead, I decided to do some research on my own. I pulled out my laptop and began searching for any information I could find about him.

Surprisingly, there wasn't much available online. His social media profiles were private, and there were no news articles or public records that mentioned him. It was as if he had deliberately kept a low profile.

I continued my search for hours, growing more frustrated by the minute. There had to be something, some clue that would reveal the truth about Ethan. I couldn't shake the feeling that my life might be in danger.

I don't know why but I think from now on I have to be careful and gather more information about this man. I couldn't trust anyone at this point, not even the man who had taken me to dinner.