Chapter 4

A sense of paranoia and impending doom hung heavy around me throughout the day. I kept waiting for something to happen, but nothing did. People smiled through the hallways of my new school. No one whispered or gave me funny looks. The change helped to boost my mood. New start.

Then there was an entirely different stress to deal with.

I had a date. An actual one. With a man.

Why I'd agreed was beyond me. It was a terrible idea. I wasn't ready to date, obviously. What if the monster did something? What if I freaked out?

It's not like I'd never see the guy again. I lived in his house.

My things were all still packed, so I didn't spend too much time deciding what to wear. The first dress I found was black, clean, and didn't have any stains. Lucky draw. The fact that it was black seemed fitting. Who knew? I may be in mourning by the end of the night anyway. The death of my love life, possibly my sobriety if anymore weird shit happened.

I stared in the mirror at my plain face and debated the need for makeup. The last thing I wanted to do was apply a possessed product onto my skin, but stress wasn't doing me any favors in the looks department.

I turned and grabbed my clutch from the bed, but the lipstick wasn't inside it. I searched again, my breath already held, my chest already tight. "No," I whispered as I stood and slowly turned back around.

The mirror that had been clear only a moment before now had the words, Have A Nice Night, written across its surface in my favorite cherry red.

The lipstick sat on the dresser, the cap once again neatly placed beside it.

I reread the message, then once more as my temper fizzled within my chest like a pot of boiling water. Fucking hell. "I'm gonna have a great night!" I snapped, pointing at my own reflection like a madwoman. "Stick around! Maybe you'll see how great later!"

A deep chuckle sounded from behind me, and I whipped around. Nobody was there. My bravery faltered, but the anger helped me to not run away screaming.

I turned back, and my heart lurched. A shadow, similar to a man, moved through the doorway. Against the better judgment of my inner voice, who screamed at me to not follow, I did. As quiet as I could, I trailed behind and rounded the corner only to find an empty living room.

I heaved a sigh. Why couldn't I have one normal event in my life? Brady would be arriving any minute. Why now? Couldn't the thing wait until later at least?

"I give up," I said, walking back towards the bedroom to get my keys. Screw the date, I was getting the hell out of there.

My keys weren't on the bed where I'd left them, so I searched the room, hoping and praying they hadn't become a tool for the monster's game.

I found them on the dresser, or more specifically, hanging off a piece of the mirror's frame. The message had been replaced by a new one. Promises, Promises.

"What does that even mean?" I asked, staring at it as realization dawned. Stick around and maybe you'll see how great...

"That's just fucking great!" I threw my arms up. "A peeping Tom. My monster is a pervert."

Another chuckle, this time from the doorway. When I looked over the apparition was standing there, a dark black mass with no features, only an outline. It raised its arm up and waved before turning and moving towards the living area.

I swallowed hard and gaped at the now empty space. "I'm gonna die."

Slowly, I moved forward and once again rounded the corner.

This time, the room wasn't empty. It stood there, just inside my front door, as if it'd been waiting. Then, the moment I had a chance to lay eyes on it, it drifted through the screen and out of sight.

The front door stood open, and the sun had fully made its decent, painting the world in a darkness I didn't appreciate. Crickets chirped from their grassy homes, so content, unaware how much their songs were making the atmosphere inside my living room that much more ominous.

I moved to press my back against the wall, ensuring nothing could sneak up on me, then stared at the open doorway. Seconds felt like minutes, then minutes felt like hours as I stood in that dark room, waiting for something I hoped would never come.

Then it did.

My lungs collapsed as it reappeared within the doorway. The screen door creaked as it was pulled open, slowly. My heart thundered, and my stomach rose up into my throat. In a panic, I flung the purse as hard as I could in its direction. I heard a grunt, then watched as it doubled over in pain.

"What the hell was that?" I recognized Brady's voice.

"Shit! I'm so sorry." I rushed forward to help him up.

"What do you keep in this thing?" he asked, grabbing the bag from the floor and handing it to me.

I cringed. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know it was you. It won't happen again."

"Promises, promises," he said.

My mouth clamped shut at the words, and I watched him closely. "What?"

"You say it won't happen again, but you seemed a little too good at that. I feel like you might make a habit of attacking poor defenseless men with your purse." He pointed to my bag. "Don't lie. You've got bricks in there, don'tcha'?"

I couldn't help but smile as my suspicion evaporated. It was a common phrase. Don't act crazy.

"You ready to go, slugger?" Brady asked, placing a hand on my shoulder. "We've got a reservation for eight-thirty."

"Sure." I let him lead me towards the door. "Where are we going?"

Brady smiled. "It's a surprise."

👻👻👻

The Dark Room, lit the front of the otherwise blackened building in neon blue.

It seemed fancy. Valet parking, red velvet ropes, and long lines kept waiting by extra large bouncers.

Brady pulled up along the entryway, then got out and walked around to my side. He lent me a hand as I stepped out, then tossed the keys to the valet. "Have you ever been here?" he asked. He'd been grinning throughout our whole conversation on the way over, and my hormones couldn't take much more of it. I had no idea what half the shit we'd talked about was, but I could somehow tell exactly how each one of his dimples curved along his flawless face.

I needed to get myself together.

Brady's hand hit the small of my back as he led us to the entrance. To my surprise, both of the gigantic men parted without so much as looking at us. I cut my eyes over to Brady questioningly, but he was too busy leading the way.

All curiosity died the moment we got inside. The room was pitch black, and it only took a moment for me to figure out why. It was one of those restaurants where you eat in the dark. This was a bad idea. A terrible idea. The worst idea.

"You okay?" Brady asked.

Nope. "Yeah." My hands were clammy. I rubbed my palms against the fabric of my dress.

"Your table is ready, Mr. Black," a server said. "You may place a hand on my shoulder, and I will guide you there."

We started to move forward. We were moving forward. It was just the dark. Nothing to be afraid of.

Someone sneezed, and I jumped into Brady's side with a screech.

He wrapped an arm around me. "It's okay," he said, lowering his mouth to my ear. "You're okay." The words came out smooth and even, and I strangely found myself relaxing at the sound.

We reached our table, and Brady helped me into my chair.

"Can I start you off with some drinks?" the server asked the moment Brady sat down beside me.

"Would you like a drink?" he directed to me.

"I've never needed a drink more in my life."

Brady laughed. "Alright." He leaned in closer. "What do you like, Sweetheart?"

Heat flooded me. He was close, too close. Not close enough?

No. Too close, and too good at talking. "I'll have a Long Island iced tea," I said, because it was the only drink I knew the name of.

"I'll have a water, and the lady would like a Long Island iced tea."

A water. Great. Now he's gonna think I'm a drunk.

"I'm driving," Brady said, as if reading my thoughts.

"Very responsible," I commented.

"I'm a responsible kinda guy." His pinky finger wrapped around mine.

My cheeks heated, and I was suddenly grateful for the darkness. I noticed how rough his skin felt, calloused, like someone who worked outside for a living. "What do you do?"

"When?" he asked.

I laughed. "For work?"

He didn't respond for a moment, but after seeing that grin so much on the drive, I could imagine it clearly on his face. "I'm a self made man."

"You mean businessman?"

"Sure."

The waitress returned with our drinks and placed them both down on the table.

I fumbled forward and found the straw, then tentatively took a sip. It didn't taste bad. Maybe it wouldn't be too strong.

When she walked away, I furrowed my brow. "Isn't she going to take our order?"

"Chef decides at this place. You eat whatever he makes you." Brady laughed lightly. "It's kinda like Russian roulette, only with dinner. Will we get a steak? Or will we get snails? Do you like snails, Amelia?"

"I can't say I've ever eaten one." Nor do I plan to. "Wait... they'll tell us what it is, right?"

Brady laughed again. "It's pasta. I checked before we came."

I grinned. "That's pretty funny." I took another drink.

"What do you do, Amelia?" Brady asked. His pinky finger left mine, and I heard him lean back into his chair.

"You already know I'm a college student."

"Yes. But what are you studying? What's your plan?"

I continued to sip the drink. It was tasting better by the second. "I'm gonna be a pediatric psychiatrist."

He didn't respond at first, and the silence was deafening. I focused on my drink, my nerves building as it stretched on. Did he not like my chosen profession? It wasn't like I said, I want to be a drug dealer.

"What made you choose that?" Brady finally asked, his voice slightly detached.

I furrowed my brow, racking my brain for an answer, but his response didn't make sense. "I want to help kids with issues." Kids like me.

"What made you decide you wanted to do it though? When did you know?"

I downed what was left in my glass, and was saved by the waitress returning. She set two plates on the table. "Can I get you any–"

"Another drink please," I said a little too loudly.

"Of course, and for you, Mr. Black?"

"I'm fine for now. Thank you."

I bit my lip. I should have said drug dealer. Why was he being weird about it? Did he have a thing against psychiatrist? Maybe he'd been in therapy at one point of his life. Most people had nowadays, and most of them didn't necessarily like their shrinks.

The silence returned as we ate our food, and I drank three more glasses of the tea to try and calm my nerves.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable," Brady said as the waitress cleared our plates. "I was just curious. Everyone picks a profession for a reason. I didn't mean to pry."

Wait? He thought I was upset? "It's no problem. Really." The alcohol made me loose, made my limbs light and my head fuzzy. "I'm sorry if I made you feel like that."

Brady took my hand in his, and I looked down even though I couldn't see a thing through the darkness. "I think it's noble of you, wanting to help people, I mean."

My heart lurched. "Really?"

"Yeah. Really." His thumb ran along the back of my hand, sending little tingles along my skin.

I wet my lips. "There is a reason." Oh lord. Why did I say that? Was I going to tell him? How much should I tell him?

"You don't have to tell me. I understand."

For some reason, him saying that, made me want to tell him. Am I drunk? Probably. "When I was little, I went to one."

Brady made a humming noise. "How'd that work out for you?"

I laughed. "Not so good. He wasn't much help. I guess that's why I want to be one."

"Makes sense." He gripped my hand.

"This is my first date, you know?" I bit my tongue, eyes widening. What the hell? Why did I say that?

"Really?" Brady sounded surprised. "How does that happen?"

"What do you mean?"

He chuckled low in his throat. "You're gorgeous, sweetheart. But I'm guessing you don't know that. How is it that nobody has managed to take you out?"

My whole face caught on fire. "I wasn't very popular in high school."

Another long silence. "Why is that?"

The longer we talked, the more comfortable I felt. Brady was nice. Really nice. I hadn't expected to feel this way tonight. Could I tell him the truth? "Promise not to run away screaming?"

He bellowed out a laugh that made me jump. "I highly doubt that'll happen, sweetheart."

I laughed with him, if nervously. "They all thought I was crazy." I held my breath as I waited for him to respond.

The silence that stretched on this time might as well have been an alarm. What was he thinking? God, I'm so dumb.

"You're not."

My mouth parted. "What?"

"You're not crazy, sweetheart. They are for not wanting to be around you."

I never understood what it meant to swoon until that moment. "They'd disagree with you."

"What makes you so crazy?" He grasped my hand again, then scooted close enough our knees were touching.

"As a kid, I believed there was a monster in my closet," I said, then immediately bit my lip. Stop talking. Stop.

His grip on my hand tightened. "Lots of kids think that. You're telling me, no boys ever approached a girl as beautiful as you, because of that?"

It did sound funny when he put it that way, but he didn't know the whole story. "One did, but I ruined it. I thought I saw something, and freaked out." I stopped myself. "You know what, lets be honest. I still see things. It's something I've had to deal with."

Instead of pulling away, Brady gripped my hand again. "That must be rough."

He sounded so understanding. That hadn't been the reaction I'd expected. Maybe I just needed to find someone more mature to confide in. "It was," I said in awe. If I hadn't been attracted to him before, I was definitely liking him now.

"What happened with the boy?"

I paused. As great as he was being, how far would it really go? It was one thing to be vague, but–

"I won't judge you."

My chest expanded as I heaved a sigh. My emotions bubbled up, leaving me feeling so incredibly light. "It scared me, and in turn, I scared him. We didn't speak again after that."

"Why'd you get scared?"

"Why?" I repeated in disbelief. "Wouldn't you be afraid?"

Another long silence. "Maybe."

I thought over his question. "We just happened to be in a closet of all places." My cheeks heated once again. "A party game," I clarified. "I looked over his shoulder, and a pair of glowing red eyes stared back at me; angry, hate filled eyes." Feeling as if I'd said too much, I cleared my throat and took another sip of my drink. "It didn't necessarily help me feel any better about closets." My words drifted.

"Maybe it didn't like him kissing you."

I nodded absently, then jerked to attention. "I never said he kissed me."

Brady gripped my hand just as I started to pull it away. He leaned forward until his lips were right against the shell of my ear, his cheek flush with mine. "You didn't have to," he purred. "I was there."