Freaking Out
1097 Words
HAZEL
When Nico finally decides to come back, I almost don’t recognize him. There’s a darkness in his eyes now, something sharp and dangerous. The nervousness is gone. The panic is gone.
This version of Nico?
It scares me. It’s the kind of look that says, Stay the f**k away.
So I do. I don’t utter a word.
He gets back into the car, slams the door, and starts driving. He doesn’t look at me once.
When we reach the house, he doesn’t even wait. He just parks, gets out, and leaves me alone inside.
I know there’s a guardhouse in the Morelli estate—sometimes he stays there, sometimes he goes to his own place. I don’t know where he’s headed now, and I shouldn’t care. I really shouldn’t.
I get out of the car, rip off my heels because they’re killing me, and start walking up the stairs barefoot. When I finally step inside, I close the door behind me and just stand there, staring into the quiet house.
For a long moment, I don’t move. I just breathe. Then, finally, I take a deep breath and start walking toward my bedroom.
I sit down first, you know, to collect myself. To gather myself and put myself back in the moment. Because after what just happened, how it happened... I’m restless. I’m nervous. I’m scared. I’m confused. I’m a mess.
I sit there for a long while before I finally decide: today was a disaster. And if I’m going to get killed, I’m not getting killed in this tight dress, with my face painted and my hair done up like some doll.
No. If I’m going to die, I’ll die comfortably.
I need a bath. That’s what I need.
I’m going to take a bath, I tell myself. Then I’ll get changed. Maybe wear something simple, some t-shirt and jeans, something that actually feels like me.... I don’t know, okay? I just want to get out of these clothes.
So I start walking toward the bathroom, pulling at the dress as I go, letting it fall away piece by piece until I’m standing in front of the mirror. And that’s when I notice it.
My eye.
The left one.
The one where Axel wiped my tears.
There’s something there, a faint reddish hue along my eyelid. I lean closer. My heart starts pounding. It’s not my makeup; I didn’t wear red shadow tonight. So what is it?
I stare harder, my breath catching.
Is it blood?
Did he… did he wipe my eye with blood?
But it can’t be. Can it?
There’s no way to tell what it is. And suddenly I’m scared all over again.
What is this?
Is it some kind of mark? A mark of death?
Does this mean something...some sign that I’m next? That he’s already decided?
Maybe this is what he does to his victims before he kills them: paints them with red and marks them quietly, like a predator branding what’s his.
I shake my head hard, pressing my palms against the cold counter.
“No,” I whisper to myself. “No, you’re losing it. You’re going crazy.”
He wouldn’t go through all that—through the touch, the wipe, and the silence—just to kill me.
If Axel wanted me dead, he’d just pull the trigger.
Wouldn’t he?
But then again… He’s not normal. He’s not like anyone else.... He’s a psycho.
I can feel myself unraveling, so I quickly just—you know—get into the shower, not even waiting for the water to get hot. I just stand under it, because all I care about right now is getting it off. Getting everything off.
Maybe the water will help. Okay? Anything will help right now, anything other than sitting and staring and wondering what’s in my left eye and if I am going to be alive tomorrow.
So I shower fast, my hands shaking as I scrub, as if I could wash away everything...his touch, his stare, that red hue that’s now burned into my memory. When I’m done, I towel off, wrapping it tight around myself, and I tell myself, “Just breathe.”
Just get dressed.
That’s the plan.
So I open the bathroom door, focusing on the steps in my head like a mission: get out of the bathroom, go to the closet, get changed, and then figure it out from there. That’s all. One step at a time.
But the second I open the door, he’s there… Axel Morelli.
Standing in my bedroom.
For a second, I freeze. My breath catches somewhere between my ribs and my throat, refusing to move.
He’s standing perfectly still, like he’s been there for a while, waiting. Watching.
I grip the towel tighter around me.
“Axel,” I manage to whisper, though my voice cracks.
He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t move.
He just looks at me.
And somehow, that’s worse than anything he could have said.
My mind starts working a mile a minute after everything that happened. He's never just walked into my bedroom like this, or maybe I'm just getting crazy. But I can swear... he's never had the look that he has in his eyes right now, like he's a predator and he's here to hunt.
I don't think about it; I just scream, and then I start running back to the bathroom, but the moment I move, it's almost like he was expecting me, as if he was waiting for me to move. He expected this.
So the moment I turn, I think it's because I'm a little disoriented, and I don't know what it is, but the moment I reach the bathroom door and I'm about to open it… I can actually see myself getting in there and locking myself inside.
I can see myself putting the space between him and me, getting away from him, but the moment my hands get onto the door, that's when I feel him. That's when he wraps both his arms on me and then just pulls me, all arms, away from the door, and I'm not ever facing the door again.
I'm freaking out now, so I'm shouting and screaming. I don't know what I'm saying, but I know I am shouting something. Maybe I'm calling for help. Maybe I'm saying something else. I don't know.
But I am scared, and I... I think this is the day. I think this is the day when he just decides that he's done with me. He's just going to end me.
- Writer
