I leaned in, trying to see through the pitch-dark.
Thick dark duct tape covered the switch.
Realization hit me like a bucket of ice water. I stumbled backward, my blood turning to frost. I turned and started toward my door but froze in my tracks.
A shadow stood in front of the door.
Someone stood in front of the door.
“No, no, no, please.”
I stepped backward, my legs beginning to shake. I could barely see anything. The shadow started moving toward me, their steps slow. Deliberate.
And the mask. I could see it as they stepped into a sliver of outside light that broke in through the curtain.
They were wearing a ski mask.
The same one from that night.
I turned and ran, feeling the fight-or-flight instinct grab me by the neck. I ran and immediately banged against something, hitting my knee and feeling it completely pop out of place.
The pain seared hot and bright, like a burning brand was jammed straight into the socket of my kneecap. I shouted and cried as my leg gave out and I collapsed onto the ground. Even though stars infiltrated my vision, the darkness still didn’t let me see who was coming toward me.
I flipped onto my stomach and started to crawl. The pain in my leg was blinding, but my will to survive was stronger.
I couldn’t give up. Not now. Not for Derrick, not for Beckham.
Not for myself.
I crawled, and I cried, and I heard the footsteps getting closer behind me. If I didn’t feel so delusional, I could have sworn I heard someone else’s cries join mine. It couldn’t possibly be the masked figure crying behind me. It had to be the echoes of my desperation.
If I could just make it to my bedroom, I could barricade myself in there. I could open the window and shout for help. Someone would have to hear. Someone would come to the rescue.
All I had to do was crawl to safety. I could do it.
I didn’t even make it into the hallway before I felt a sharp hit against the back of my head.
The darkness swallowed me whole.
32 Beckham Noble
Rose petals covered my bed, a thick trail of them leading in from the hallway and into the room. I set about thirty candles around the room, all waiting to be lit. The sweet scent of lavender filtered into the room through a small diffuser set on my nightstand. It was a little over the top, but that was exactly the feeling I was going for. It was how Oliver made me feel on a daily basis. Like my entire life had been one big romantic movie leading up to the best meet-cute of all time, connecting two perfect souls.
Ever since I’d met Oliver, it felt like I’d been walking across a path of ruby-red rose petals, and I wanted to bring that to life for him. I knew he’d most likely end up dying of laughter. And I wanted him to laugh, I wanted tonight to be about just us two and the happiness we brought each other. Especially considering how well dinner with his parents had gone. I was nervous that I had planned all of this for the night after a potentially disastrous dinner.
But there had been no disaster in sight. It felt like I’d been welcomed into the family, and that made me one happy lad. I was especially nervous about meeting Oliver’s father. I knew that if we didn’t get along, things would be difficult between Oliver and me. But again, there was nothing to fear. After some time to get to know each other, I think we’d found that the two of us could become good friends, feeling none of the initial awkwardness from our first handshake.
I followed the trail of petals out of my bedroom, making sure not to disrupt it by tiptoeing down the edges. In my hallway, I had replaced any photo I had hanging with one of Oliver and me. Underneath each frame was a plaque with a small saying and the date the photo had been taken.
When I said I went over the top, I had meant it.
I chuckled, stopping in front of my favorite photo of the bunch.
The two of us were center in the frame, Oliver on my shoulders, the two of us offering huge smiles. Behind us, the wall art perfectly lined up, making it seem like we were surrounded by a rainbow. The sun, high in the sky, shone down like a spotlight on us.
The plaque underneath the photo read “You’re a special one.”
Our first date. It seemed like so bloody long ago, like I’d been with Oliver for years and years.
All of them being the best years of my life.
But it hadn’t been years, and yet we’d experienced a lifetime’s worth of memories already.
I smiled as I worked on getting the rest of my place ready. In my living room, I had placed five big bouquets of pink and white lilies, all of them blooming, the entire living room filled with their candy-sweet scent. I remembered Oliver telling me they were his favorite flowers, and I could see why.