Do Not Open by Kiersten Modglin

Author:Kiersten Modglin [Modglin, Kiersten]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kiersten Modglin
Published: 2023-10-30T18:30:00+00:00

Christian, not Christopher, like I’d assumed.

That name scratches something in the back of my brain. It’s so familiar, and yet, I can’t place it. Is it just from being introduced to him so many times? From interacting at signings and online only? Perhaps. It’s a common name, too. I may know it from somewhere else.

But try as I might to justify it or shove the feeling away, something tells me not to let it go. Something tells me it’s bigger than that.

Somehow, I think the name means something to me. I just can’t put a finger on what that could be.

Carefully, I move things around in the box, sifting through the various items he keeps hidden in here. Mostly, the rest of the box seems to be filled with more memories. More book signing photos of us together, more candid photos of me from the book signings, printed-out email conversations, screenshots from videos I’ve posted, more framed comments. Apparently, he’s only displaying his favorites. Or perhaps he rotates them out. At this point, he could make his whole house a shrine to me and still not have wall space for everything in this closet to be displayed.

“Mari! Jesus Christ! Come out now!” His scream from somewhere else inside the house causes me to jump as I realize how close he’s gotten to me. The house is only so big, and there are only so many places to hide. Slowly, he’s figuring out where I’m not, which means soon he’ll be able to narrow down where I am.

I put everything back in the box quietly, trying to silence my rapid breathing. Think. Think. Think. There has to be something else you can do.

Sometimes my inner thoughts sound exactly like Declan’s voice.

When I hear Chris’s heavy footsteps heading in the opposite direction, I decide it’s now or never. I push the boxes to the side and stand again. He’s in the kitchen now. Silverware clatters to the floor, then glasses, plates. With each thing he throws, he growls, curses, or roars.

“I’ll find you, you bitch! Do you hear me? I’ll find you, and I’ll kill you!”

I have no doubts.

There’s a single window in this room next to the bed. As quietly as I can move, I cross the room and pull back the room-darkening curtain. We’re up high enough on the second story that it scares me, but not so high I think I’ll get hurt from the fall. At least, I think my odds are better out there than they would be if I stay here.

After searching for signs of an alarm and failing to find any, I unlatch it from the top and give the wooden frame a hard shove upward.

It gives relatively easily, allowing me access to the screen. It’s a small mercy, but I’ll take it.

Come on.

Come on.

Come on.

I grab the bottom of the screen by its tiny metal edges and tug up. With some nudging, it comes free, and I push it forward, huffing a breath.

I stare out the window at the ground below, heart racing in my chest.

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