CONTENT WARNING: strong, sexual content

The phone keeps ringing, but I can't bring myself to answer it. Nothing good would come of it, for myself or whoever the hell is on the other line.

It vibrates on the carpeted floor in the living room, the upbeat tune practically making my ears bleed.

It had been next to me. But after the fifth ring or so, I got fed up and threw it across the room. Of course, it didn't break. That would be too easy. Now, I can't work myself up to get out of the bed.

But even if my phone was lying right beside me in this bed, I wouldn't pick it up.

I've done something terrible. There are gaps in my memory when it comes to Theo and Paul. The Swiss cheese likeness gives me enough to question whether I was the one who killed them. Then came Reese, which is harder to deny. I hurt him. I remember that. But now there's no question. Not after Angelo.

It's been three days since the night Drake took me out. Since I murdered a man. Since my fourth murder. I thought if I self-isolated, kept myself away from others, I could recuperate. Lick my wounds. Heal. But it's only steeped. It sinks deeper, creating more pain and infection.

There's no escaping it. No matter what I do, I still hear the coughing and gurgling of blood pouring from his throat. And when I close my eyes, all I see is the splattered canvas and his surprised face. His mouth was shaped in betrayal and my cruel face reflected in his wide eyes. It's all I can see.

I don't want to see it anymore!

After Theo and Paul, I couldn't remember what I had done after the murder; where I went or what I did. But with Angelo, it was like I knew what to do. My legs guided me and my hands did those terrible things — stabbing him and carving into his skin... I did it all without crying or screaming or throwing up. And then when I got to Devil Lake, I fucking pulled his teeth out.

I don't know why. Jackson never did that, so it can't be the demon, can it? Is it me? That, I still don't get, and I'm not sure if I want to.

Echoing into the apartment, there's another loud buzzing. It causes me to lift my head from the pillows. That's not the phone. No, that's the call box.

Shit. It continues to buzz, ringing in my ears. I cover the pillow over my head to block it out but it makes its way through, penetrating my solace.

Then, it stops. I peek out of my covers, unsure if I'm just imagining it. But there's silence. Sweet silence. I heave a sigh and throw myself back down.

"Jennifer?" Someone says behind my front door as they knock. "Are you there?"

What the fuck? Who the hell keeps letting people into the building? Begrudgingly, I crawl out of the bed and patter into the living room. The person behind the door continues to knock, but I hold my breath waiting for them to speak.

"Jenny, please," They whisper, and my heart sinks. Drake. I cross my arms over my chest defensively. "Please open the door."

I hunch my shoulders as I stay as quiet as I can. It's better if he just leaves. If he thinks I'm not home. The guilt I feel about the other night causes pangs in my chest and stomach. I don't think I can lie anymore.

My cell phone suddenly begins to ring and vibrate at my feet. I leap at the loud sound and then wince when I see his caller ID on the screen. He knows.

"Jennifer!" He calls out again, banging on the door. "I know you're in there!"

With a sigh, I approach the door. My hand hovers on the doorknob for a minute as I gather the courage. I undo the chain lock and swing the door open.

Drake stands there, his arms braced on the sides of the threshold. His dark hair hangs over his forehead and he looks like he's lost sleep. My guilt only grows as I imagine he's been worried about me.

"I've been calling," he says when I don't offer any pleasantries. "Have you been ignoring me?"

I can't look him in the eye and lie, so I don't. I just don't say anything.

"Is it because I bailed on you?"

"No!" I shake my head, finally meeting his dark gaze. "Of course not."

"Then why?" He looks me over. "What's wrong?"

What should I say? What am I supposed to say? I can't tell him it's because he's working to solve the murders I've committed, or that the night he "bailed," I not only slept with someone else but I killed him too.

"I-It's the Jackson case," I manage to spit out. "It's still bothering me."

Drake's eyes narrow. He doesn't believe me. "It's me, isn't it?"

I start to open my mouth but I stop. I suck in a breath and he closes his eyes. When he opens them, he holds my gaze for a long time. Neither of us speaks. I don't know what to say because I can't lie but there's nothing soothing in my truth. And I think he's afraid of hurting me.

But then his face shifts. His eyes sweep over my mine before settling onto my lips. My chest rises with a sharp intake of air. "Drake," I draw out slowly. A warning. "Don't —"

He doesn't listen. He takes a single, short step in and his lips swoop in and he kisses me. My body instantly relaxes and I reach up, curling my hands around his neck and face. I gently pull him inside the apartment, and he pushes the door shut behind him.

I feel him embrace me, his strong arms around me like a barrier. It's his promise, to protect me and never hurt me. Tears begin to pool behind my closed lids. Please, don't cry now. His hands circle my back, softly massaging me as he kisses me sweetly and passionately.

I never thought this would happen again. I vowed that we would never cross that line. But I can't deny how good it feels to be in his arms. How right it feels. Especially now.

Drake begins to pepper kisses along my cheek and jaw. He whispers into my ear but I don't understand what he says. My heartbeat is too loud.

As he continues to shower me with kisses, I run my hands down his sides. "Drake," I whisper back. "I want you."

He pulls back and cups my face in his hands. "You sure?"

The moment I nod, he hooks his hands under me and lifts me into his arms. I let out a surprised laugh. He carries me into the bedroom and places me down on the bed.

For a second, he stands there staring at the bed. My heart leaps into my throat. "What is it?" I ask nervously.

He shakes his head. "I don't know. Did you get new bedding?"

I glance back. "O-Oh. Yeah. My mom was getting on me about changing the bedding every couple of years, so..."

Please don't question it, please don't. But thankfully he doesn't. He grins and lowers himself onto me. "You have good taste," he says as he kisses me deeply.

When I pull back from the kiss, I say, "I hope you mean the sheets and not my mother."

Drake laughs. "Of course," And he continues to kiss me. First on the lips, then on my chin, and then down my neck. When he reaches my chest, I let out a surprised gasp. "Is this okay?"

I nod. "Yes. Please don't stop."

He slides his hands under my tank and pulls it up over my head, tossing it to the floor. He kisses my breasts and then moves down to my stomach and then plants a hot kiss right above my sweatpants band. I arch my back, and he takes my hips into his hands.

His fingers hook under the band and he guides my sweats and panties down my legs. His eyes never leave mine as he tosses them to the floor.

Feeling an unfair advantage, I twist my fingers into his shirt, tugging him back to me. I run my hands along his chest, feeling the groves of his fit abdomen. I quickly lift the shirt over his head.

The rest of his clothes are shed and thrown to the floor. I hook my legs around his hips. He feels so warm.

As he enters me, I feel a heat surge inside of me. But it doesn't feel evil. It feels safe. It feels right. I run my hands up his back. His muscles flex as he moves. I hold onto him, part of me afraid of that might happen if I don't. He lowers his head to kiss me, and I return it in urgency.

"More," I gasp, all but digging my nails into his back. He groans.

When I reach the point of no return, I arch my back again, crying out. Drake holds me to him and moans into my ear, thrusting. As the pulse in my gut dies down, I stay in his arms, tangling with him and the sheets.

I can't help but think of how different this was to what happened the other night. With him, it was pure animalism. We fucked, in the clearest form. But with Drake... This was love.

No. I can't love him. I can't be in love with him. I'm afraid of hurting him. Because once he knows what I've done, he could never love me. And if he already does, it just might kill him.

We lay here for a while. I rest my head on his chest, hearing his heartbeat under my ear. It's slow, calm. It calms me a bit too. But not long, I hear it begin to beat faster. I lift my head up and look at him. He's watching me.

"What?" I ask him.

He shakes his head. "What do you mean, what?"

I try to assess his face. There's something off. It feels like there's something he's hiding. Something he isn't telling me. I pull the sheet to my chest, suddenly feeling exposed. "I feel like you're keeping something from me."

At first, he doesn't say anything. I fucking knew it. But quickly, he scoffs. "Why would you even say that?"

Honestly? I'm not sure. It feels like he's more guarded than usual, which scares me. I can usually read him well, but it seems like he's purposefully trying to be harder to read. "I just feel like you're keeping me at a distance."

"A distance?" He gestures between us. "I think it's safe to say we're closer than we ever have been, Jenny." Drake sits up and swings his legs over the side of the bed. "I don't know what you expect me to say."

He's starting to gather his things. I sit up fast. I want to call out to him, to beg him not to go. But that's never been my style. I just hug the sheet to me. "I want you to tell me the truth."

Drake spins around as he zips his pants. "You want to know the truth?" He snaps. I nod. "One of the reasons why I came by was because Stringer sent me."

My heart begins to pick up. It's okay, Jennifer. It's probably nothing. "Okay. Why?"

"There was a little thing you neglected to tell me the night we were out; the last victim of our new murderer? He was your neighbor." Drake points over to the right. "Right down the hall."

Fuck! My stomach drops. I don't need to fake surprise here, but I just need to redirect it. "What? That was him?"

He cocks his head and gives me the look he gives the perps we interrogate. I don't like it. "You're telling me you didn't know?"

"How the fuck was I supposed to know it was him!? There's probably hundreds of thousands of Reeses out there, Drake!"

For a moment, he doesn't say anything. But when he does, it breaks my heart a little. "I don't know what to believe anymore."

Tears form in my eyes, and in frustration, I climb out of the bed with the sheet in tow. I approach him. I pick up his shirt from the floor and throw it at him. "Get out," I say lowly. When he doesn't move, I shove at him. "Get the fuck out!"

"I don't know what's going on with you," he says as he walks backward. "But I will make things better. I'll get things back to normal."

You have no idea how much I want that, but I'm terrified things can never be normal ever again. "Just leave, Drake."

He reaches the door and opens it. He stops in the doorway and turns back. "I won't stop until I do. You know why?"

I throw my hands up. "No," I whisper.

"Because you're worth it, Jenny."

Walking up to him, he looks down at me. I can see the concern and — dare I say — love in his eyes. As much as I want to reach up and kiss him again, I put my hand on the door and close it, pushing him out into the hall, shutting him out for possibly the last time.

Total word count (as of end of chapter 15): 30,783