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I wanted to reach out. To touch her. To pull her away from this place and sew her to my chest, keep her safe, keep her mine. My little bluebird. Fragile, trembling, so easy to shatter.

It would be easy to kill him right now and take her, but I couldn’t. Not yet. Patience was key.

The emptiness inside me yawned wider. I let it. The craving. The obsession. It was the only thing holding me together, because every other piece of me was slipping into the dark, dark void. Gone, just like you, father.

One more hour. One more night. I’d wait as long as it took. I’d let the dark eat through my skin if it meant she was within reach.

She was my bluebird, and I wasn’t going to let anybody else touch her. Not even the dark. Not even death.

I crouched in the cold shadow and let myself watch her until the lines between sleeping and waking blurred. Until my thoughts dripped into each other, impossible to untangle. Starla’s breath, my blood. Starla’s fear, my hunger. Two monsters, stuck in the same box. Waiting for something to snap.

My bluebird. My bluebird.

If I had to kill for her, I would. I would. I would.

Chapter 31

He Found Me

Starla

I woke with my heart already hammering. I laid still, staring at the ceiling, counting my breaths. The room was dark. Brandon snored beside me. He wouldn’t be waking any time soon. He downed half a bottle of vodka tonight then passed out. I rolled onto my side. The window was a black square. I watched it until my eyes burned. Then a shadow moved.

A shape ducking behind the tree. I sat up. My mouth went dry. I told myself I was seeing things, the way Brandon told me I was always seeing things. But I wasn't. I knew the difference between paranoia and real.

I slipped out of bed. Brandon didn't stir. I crossed to the window on bare feet, cold seeping up through the floorboards. I pressed my palm to the glass and looked down.

A handprint was already there. On the outside.

I jerked my hand back. The print was large, fingers splayed, pressed into the condensation. It hadn't been there at sunset. I knew because I'd checked.

I hurried to the front door. The house was too quiet. The kitchen light was off so I felt my way around the dark. I was used to doing that in the basement. I went to the front door and checked the locks, they were all secure.

I opened the door anyway.

A photograph was on the welcome mat. My face, hair tangled across the pillow. I was asleep in the photo. Taken from inside our house. I didn't touch it. I couldn't make my hand reach down. My knees went loose and I caught myself on the doorframe.

The photograph stared up at me. My own face, foreign and vulnerable. I grabbed it and tore it in half, then quarters, then eighths. I threw the pieces in the trash and tied the bag. I would take it out in the morning. I would burn it.

I went back upstairs. I checked the window. The handprint was still there, but fainter now, the condensation evaporating. I pulled the curtain shut and got back in bed. I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling.

I think I drifted and fell asleep eventually. But, in the hazy state of being half-awake and half-asleep at some point, I could’ve sworn I heard somebody breathing next to me. Not where Brandon was, but beside the bed. I could’ve sworn I saw a shadow standing over me. The shadow leaned down, its darkness intent on swallowing me.

“Bluebird,” the shadow whispered. “You don’t have to be afraid anymore. I’m here now.”

My monster found me.

Chapter 32

Dripping For Him

Starla

I almost screamed. I don’t know what came over me. I opened my mouth, but his hand covered my lips before a sound could come out.

“Sorry, bluebird. Can’t have you waking the neighbors.”

I blinked up at him. Was he actually here? Or was I dreaming? I pinched myself. He was still here, so I was probably awake.