Originally written and posted on written on 4/12/2024 posted on 5/19/2024
Please Note: This first draft is subject to change upon official publication, including the addition of never-before-read scenes. If you enjoyed this chapter, please show your support by liking and following me for more smutty dark romance featuring all the controversial elements readers love—or love to hate.
Scene 7 – Saturday – 4/12/2024
That night, Jane was restless. Nothing on TV held her interest, and even the new book she tried to read couldn't keep her thoughts from wandering to Cooper. She longed for her parents' return tomorrow night. With them home, the house's every creak and groan wouldn't set her on edge. Cooper wouldn't dare show up with her parents around. Would he?
Her eyes flicked to the clock beneath the TV: 9:55 pm. Five minutes until Cooper said he'd call. She clung to her defiance–she wouldn't answer. She wouldn't let fear control her. Pulling the blanket tighter around her, she burrowed into the couch, already feeling the pull of sleep. Another glance at the clock: 9:58 pm. Two minutes. She watched the second hand sweep around, anxiety rising with each tick. Could she really ignore his call?
At precisely 10 pm, the phone in the kitchen rang, the sudden noise making her jump. Goosebumps prickled her skin as her nerves ignited. Jane bit her bottom lip, eyes glued to the phone as it rang again. Each ring amplified the dread coiling in her chest. Abruptly she stood and crossed the room in a few quick strides.
Her body screamed to answer, but her mind kept her hand frozen inches from the receiver.
By the fifth ring, Jane smiled and sighed with relief. She was glad she hadn't fallen prey to Cooper's fear tactics. His threats were empty, and she refused to be manipulated. Their sick game ended tonight. If he showed up and tried to get in, she would call the police without a word. Let them catch him breaking in; he'd be in trouble for sure.
Jane stared at the phone until her eyes glazed over, its outline blurring into a hazy smudge against the cream-colored wall. Shaking her head, she glanced at the clock. It was almost ten minutes after ten. If he was going to call again, he would have by now.
It's over. The thought comforted her as she headed back to the couch. If he came over, the chair and two locks would block him.
A part of her had expected a second call, but it never came. She forced him out of her mind and tried to focus on another movie, a remake of "I Spit On Your Grave."
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