This Love Kills Me by A.B. Whelan

Author:A.B. Whelan [Whelan, A.B.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Psychological Thriller
Publisher: Burbank Books
Published: 2021-05-29T22:00:00+00:00

* * * * *

Out of all six bathrooms in the house, the bathroom Brooke offered me on my first day in the house was my favorite. It was open and bright, radiating purity. She had worried that the white tile on the floor and walls, the white vanity, and white porcelain sink and tub would make me feel as if I were in a hospital, but I assured her that compared to the washroom in the brothel, this was heaven.

The steam had already fogged up the mirror when I slipped out of my clothes and sunk myself into the foamy water. As the heat enveloped my body, my worries began to melt away. The Vicodin was taking effect.

Brooke left a lit candle on the edge of the sink because the tub’s rim wasn’t wide enough to hold it. The scent was vanilla, which wasn’t my favorite, but I considered it a sweet gesture anyway. It had taken me a few weeks to allow myself to enjoy a bath, not just jump in, scrub off, and jump out. Here, nobody was knocking on the door, telling me to hurry up. No foreign pubic hair was floating in the water. No blood smears on the floor. Only cleanliness so tangible I could nearly taste it.

I took a deep breath and submerged myself completely, my fingers gripping the edge of the tub. The air bubbles popped in my ears, and my nostrils filled with water. The combination of sensations made me ticklish, but I felt relaxed as the tension slowly left my body. I could have stayed underwater forever, but something cold touched my hand. The sensation was sudden and severe enough for me to jolt out of the water into a sitting position. I sensed someone’s presence in the room. I snapped my head around the spacious room, but there was no one there. I was alone. An eerie silence like a thick fog descended on me. The only thing I heard was my own breathing.

I looked at the mirror, where drops of condensation ran together in clear lines. I could make out the letter “B” among the lines. I rubbed my eyes, thinking that the hovering steam in the room was playing tricks on me. When I opened my eyes again, I glimpsed the shower curtain move in the corner of my eye. I jumped in fright, sending water out of the tub.

“Brooke!” I screamed, my heart hammering against my ribs, but received no answer.

There were small puddles of liquid on the white tile near the far end of the bathroom where the splashed water couldn’t have reached. There was no physical explanation for it.

“Brooke!” I screamed again.

A slim figure appeared behind the white shower curtain, its silhouette sharp and visible. I sunk underwater to hide—perhaps not physically but mentally.

The soap bubbles were mostly gone from the surface of the water, and when I opened my eyes underwater, I saw a face leaning over me.

Kicking and tossing my arms as if I were being attacked, I splashed out most of the remaining water from the tub.

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