Behind Closed Walls

Chapter Seven.

Evelyn Cross rarely drank. She didn't like the feeling of losing control, of letting anything dull her instincts or blur the sharp edges she'd honed for years. But that night, as she sat alone on her couch, half-drained glass of whiskey in hand, she felt that familiar urge to distance herself from the ache growing inside her.

Memories of the stranger's attack lingered, reminding her that her life was a knife's edge. She'd nearly been caught, nearly slipped up. But what unsettled her most wasn't the close call—it was the thought of Mira, the only thing capable of undoing her in a way she couldn't fight off.

Her phone lay nearby, silent and waiting. Before she knew it, she reached for it, dialing without letting herself second-guess. It rang only twice before Mira's voice came through, gentle and surprised.
"Evelyn? Are you okay?"

She hesitated, feeling a pull toward honesty that was as terrifying as it was unfamiliar. "Could you come over?"

The pause on the other end was long, almost as if Mira were testing the words for hidden meaning. "Sure. I'll be there soon."

Evelyn didn't reply, just hung up and looked around her empty apartment. It was clean, sharp, and utterly lifeless. For the first time, it felt cold.

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Mira arrived about twenty minutes later, bundled in a coat and scarf, looking more like she was coming over for a quiet night in than whatever mess Evelyn was about to unload. She stepped inside, glancing around.

"Evelyn..." Mira's eyes softened, taking in the half-empty bottle on the coffee table and the barely-touched takeout. "You look... are you okay?"

Evelyn gave her a lopsided smile, feeling the warm, foggy cloud of alcohol settle. "Mira Sutton," she murmured, standing up and watching Mira with unfiltered intensity. "How do you do it?"

Mira blinked, giving a small, nervous laugh. "Do what?"

"Get me to do things I don't want to do." Evelyn held her gaze, the challenge in her eyes softened by something deeper. "Like let you in."

Mira stepped forward, concern edging her smile. "I don't think I've done anything except show up. Which, for the record, you're allowed to ask for."

Evelyn shook her head, chuckling. "No... it's more than that. You... you shouldn't be here. I should've let you run."

"From what?" Mira's voice was soft, as if she could sense the fragility under Evelyn's bravado.

"From me," Evelyn whispered, a confession wrapped in self-hatred. She sank back onto the couch, her shoulders slumped. "I don't know how to be around someone like you without..." She trailed off, her thoughts spilling out against her better judgment. "Without ruining it."

Mira sat down beside her, her hand resting near Evelyn's, close but not touching. "You think I don't know what I'm getting into?"

"Maybe you don't," Evelyn said, half-smiling in a way that was part bitter and part fond. She reached for her glass, took a sip, then stared into the amber liquid like it might hold an answer. "I'm a... dangerous person, Mira."

She turned to her, eyes dark and searching. "A killer, if you really want to know. Just a murderer sitting here with you on her couch."

Mira chuckled softly. "Oh? And what have you done with all the bodies?"

Evelyn's breath hitched at the sound of Mira's laugh. Here she was, confessing a truth Mira would only ever see as fiction. For a moment, the weight of her secrets felt manageable, as if she could just say it out loud and watch it dissipate into the air between them.

"Too many to count," Evelyn murmured, her voice heavy. "All of them just... gone."

Mira's smile softened. "Well, at least you're a productive murderer, right?"

A quiet moment passed, each of them studying the other. The air between them seemed to thicken, a warmth blossoming under Evelyn's skin that was both frightening and exhilarating. Without thinking, she leaned forward, eyes tracing the shape of Mira's mouth, her heart racing.

Mira held her gaze, her breath catching, lips parting slightly in surprise.

When Evelyn's lips brushed against hers, it was like everything else in the world slipped away. Mira kissed her back, tentative and sweet, her hand finding its way to Evelyn's face, her thumb brushing along Evelyn's jawline.

In that brief, unguarded moment, Evelyn allowed herself to surrender completely to the feeling. She pulled Mira closer, deepening the kiss as her arms slipped around her, the intensity growing until she was nearly breathless.

Mira didn't pull away; instead, she wrapped her arms around Evelyn's shoulders, her fingers weaving into Evelyn's hair. She was soft and warm, everything Evelyn had taught herself not to want.

Time seemed to stop, both of them caught up in a dance of tentative trust, desire, and fear of what they might become. Eventually, the kiss slowed, their breathing heavy as they pulled apart just enough to look at each other.

For the first time, Evelyn saw herself reflected in Mira's eyes—not as the killer she believed herself to be, but as someone vulnerable, even worthy of love.

They sat in silence, both processing what had just happened, neither rushing to break the spell.

Finally, Mira smiled, her fingers tracing down Evelyn's arm, lingering for a moment before she spoke. "You know," she said softly, "if this is part of your murderous plan, you've succeeded in completely disarming me."

Evelyn chuckled, a rare, unguarded sound. "I think I'm the one who's disarmed."

They stayed there, Mira leaning against Evelyn as the night slowly gave way to dawn, neither of them willing to pull away just yet.