Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 113051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
I flip on the light, though I could have sworn I left it on for this very reason, then take a look around the room. Everything looks normal. I go over to the bedside lamp and flick it on for extra light.
Then, I slowly start getting undressed. I take off my hoodie, long-sleeved T-shirt and bra, then step out of my yoga pants, throwing them onto my bed. Then I cross the room to my dresser and take out my pajama top, pulling it on over my head. I spilled coffee on the bottoms this morning, so they’re in a pile in the corner of the room, waiting for laundry day.
I turn around and go to the bathroom sink, grabbing a tub of cleansing balm and rubbing it on my face, staring at myself in the mirror. My eyes are a little glassy, and I look exhausted. I just hope I don’t have a hangover tomorrow.
I rinse my face, mentally making a note to drink more water. I’m patting my skin dry with a towel when I hear a thump from behind me.
I go dead still.
My heart sticks to my chest.
Slowly, very slowly, I turn around to look.
My room is empty.
I step out of the bathroom and look around, wondering what it could have been that made the noise when I notice all my clothes are in the middle of the floor.
I stare at them blankly. I could have sworn I placed them all on the bed in a pile.
And my hoodie is almost totally under the bed, only the arms sticking out.
I take a deep breath, trying to calm my hummingbird heart, and then walk across the room and stop.
What if there’s something underneath the bed?
I know it’s a silly thought—why should there be anything under there?
But I can’t help it. Goosebumps cover my arms, my spine like ice.
Just get on your knees and look under the bed.
I stare at the hoodie.
I can’t do it.
I crouch down and quickly reach for the arms.
Just as a large, fat spider comes crawling out from under the bed, toward my hand.
I shriek and stumble backward, banging into the wall hard enough for the painting of the raven to fall down. The spider, seemingly scared, scurries back under the bed.
“Jesus,” I swear, leaning against the wall, my hand on my chest. I glance at the painting, hoping I didn’t break it.
But…there’s something not right about it.
There’s something stuck behind it.
A round, black metal object.
I reach down and pick the painting up, peering at the back closely.
Then, I flip the frame over and examine it.
Up close, I notice one of the raven’s black eyes is extra shiny.
Dread creeps up my throat.
Oh my god. Please don’t tell me.
I flip it over again, and I try to pull the black object off. I have to yank and twist, and finally, it comes out, destroying part of the painting in the process, but I have to know.
I let the painting fall to the floor and turn the object over in my hand, noting the USB slot in the side, peering into the lens.
Someone’s put a fucking camera in my room.
I clutch my stomach, feeling sick. I put the camera in my pajama top’s pocket, then go to the other painting on the opposite wall above my head. The center of the starfish is a glossy lens as well. I take that off the wall and rip the camera out.
I look around wildly, wondering where else they could be.
The ghost mushrooms.
I run over to the bathroom and lift the embroidered picture off the wall.
There is no camera on the back of the frame, but there is a small round microphone.
Someone has been watching me.
Listening to me.
Spying on me.
Stalking me.
And in the depths of my heart, I know who it is.
Kincaid.
CHAPTER 18
I don’t waste any time.
I put on my slippers and robe and I’m running out of my room, not bothering to lock it. What’s the point when people like Kincaid can enter any damn time they want?
I hurry down the stairs, past Noor and Toshio, still playing backgammon, who watch me curiously as I run outside with no pants on. Drunken singing emanates from the dock below but I head for the north dorm, hoping to find Kincaid in his office. If he’s in his boat despite the party on the docks, well, I might have to wait. The last thing I want is to make a scene in front of everyone.
The north dorm is unlocked, and I step inside, closing the door behind me. I hurry down the hall and frantically knock on Kincaid’s office door.
I’m breathing hard, still drunk, still livid, and I know I need to control myself, I need to calm down and handle this rationally, but I can’t. I feel like everything I’ve been going through these past weeks has come to a boiling point.