HOMEWRECKER {18+}

23

O L I V I A 

I tossed and turned in my bed, watching the digital clock on the nightstand flash 2 AM.

The anticipation of the masquerade ball, just 29 hours away, made me feel euphoric, though I'd never been high in my life.

It was Halloween, October 31st, the day of the masquerade ball.

My mind kept drifting back to the mannequin in the corner of the room, draped in the stunning diamond dress.

I didn't want to wrinkle the exquisite gown, so I had "borrowed" a mannequin. Its presence was eerie in the dark, but my focus remained on the wine-red dress.

I sat up in bed, leaning against the headboard, my eyes fixed on the dress.

My thoughts wandered to the previous day when I parked a car an hour away from the foster home and made my way through the forest.

The foster home, was still a large house in the middle of nowhere, lay deep in the woods.

For the past year, since being kicked out of Mr. Everett's mansion, I visited weekly, observing from a distance. There were always people around, but after the disappearances and deaths, the place fell silent.

No new arrivals, no new locations for their criminal trades.

I didn't know if it was a bad or good thing. 

Footsteps pacing outside my bedroom door drew me back to the present. Gabriel Everett was also restless, his movements creating a gentle noise.

The sound finally stopped, but I didn't hear his bedroom door close. He must still be in the living room.

Knowing I wouldn't be able to sleep, I decided not to force it. The excitement was too intense.

I got out of bed, pulling on an oversized white shirt, as I preferred sleeping in just my underwear when I felt comfortable, like the night I spent in Mr. Everett's bedroom. 

Enough about my sleep habits.

I opened my bedroom door and stepped into the dark hall, making my way to the living room. In the dim light, I could make out Gabriel Everett sitting on the edge of the couch.

"Can't sleep either?" My voice caught Gabriel off guard as he turned quickly from the window.

"Nope," he replied, his tone low and raspy.

"Mind if I make us something warm to drink?" I asked.

"Go ahead." He was once again staring out the window, lost in thought.

I headed to the kitchen and quickly made us some tea with milk and honey. Carrying the two mugs, I returned to the living room.

But Gabriel's expression had grown even darker and sadder.

"Voilà." I placed his mug on the coffee table and settled on the other side of the couch, giving him some space.

"Thanks," he mumbled, taking the mug but still gazing out into the darkness.

I was never good at comforting people, often struggling to console myself on my lowest days.

The best I could usually offer was defending someone or standing up for them. Comforting someone battling their own mind was a different challenge.

"Did you know, the prince of Egypt gave me this recipe..." I said, taking a sip and observing Gabriel over the rim of my mug.

Why did my brain think about a story about an Egyptian prince would help, I had no idea?