---
A coldness crept under my skin, spreading like frostbite.
My whole body felt numb.
Someone out there knew me.
Not just my name. Not just my face.
They knew I was at that motel.
They knew Josh and I weren't together anymore—something I hadn't even said out loud.
They knew everything.
And suddenly, my fear of Josh was no longer the biggest threat.
The fear of *this person*, this hidden observer, this puppeteer behind the flash drive… it swallowed everything else.
I could barely move, but somehow I found the strength to close the laptop.
My room changed instantly.
The air.
The shadows.
Everything felt wrong. Haunted.
Maybe it was just the fear.
Maybe it was the knowledge that Josh—the man who once promised to protect me—was a killer.
Not just that.
He was *comfortable* with it.
Efficient. Cold. Clean.
Who knows what else he's done?
What else he's hiding?
But one thing became terrifyingly clear:
Josh was into something dangerous.
Something big.
Something dark.
And if that video was just the beginning…
I was already too deep.
He owned a gun.
He killed without hesitation.
And I was carrying his child.
---
---
I can't let my baby grow up with the shadow of being *the child of a serial killer*.
For a brief second, I thought maybe—just maybe—I could give Josh a second chance.
But not anymore.
Not after what I saw.
Not after what I *felt* watching that video.
And yet… I still couldn't bring myself to report him.
I couldn't picture him behind bars.
Even now, with everything I knew—I still saw the boy who once held my hand under the stars.
The one who once whispered promises into my neck.
I hated him for that.
I finally gathered enough strength to stand, my legs shaky from the war going on inside me.
A silent, bitter battle between denial… and the truth I could no longer avoid.
I stripped slowly, like peeling off layers of guilt and confusion, then walked into the bathroom.
I set the water to warm.
I had wanted it ice cold, something to shock me back to reality.
But I couldn't risk it.
Not with the baby.
No matter what Josh had done, I needed to protect this little life inside me.
I sank into the tub, the warmth wrapping around me like a dull silence.
I stayed there.
For minutes. Maybe hours.
Long enough for the water to lose all its heat.
Long enough for my skin to wrinkle.
Long enough to finally let myself cry.
Silently. Completely.
---
I cried for a long time.
Not loud, not messy—just silent tears that kept falling like they'd never stop.
Eventually, I told myself it was enough.
No more crying. No more falling apart.
I needed to pull myself together—if not for me, then for the baby.
That was when it hit me.
I hadn't told *anyone* what I was going through.
Not a soul.
But honestly… who could I tell that Josh was a murderer without them freaking out and calling the cops?
No one.
The only thing I could do right now was tell my parents and Clara about the pregnancy.
That was all. Nothing more.
I got up from the cold bathwater, quickly rinsed off, brushed my teeth, and stepped out of the bathroom with a kind of grace I didn't feel inside.
I walked to my wardrobe and pulled out my most beautiful dress.
It was soft, light, and comfortable—something that still made me feel human.
I slipped it on and gave a little twirl, like I used to do when Josh was around.
Only this time… he wasn't here to tell me I looked pretty.
Still, I wasn't doing this for him.
I applied a bit of makeup—a soft base, a touch of blush, and a bold red lipstick for that sharp, confident vibe.
The dress hugged my curves gently and hid my growing baby bump better than I expected.
This baby… it was growing fast.
I chose a short heel—nothing dramatic—and pulled a black purse from my rack.
In it, I tucked my phone, ID, some cash, and my card.
That was all I needed.
With one final glance in the mirror, I gave myself a nod.
I was ready.
I headed downstairs, grabbed a quick bite—just some biscuits and milk—and walked out the door, the fake smile already fixed on my face.
As I stepped outside, I saw a neighbor at their door and waved with a wide grin.
It was the first time I'd smiled in days—even if it was fake.
I had to look flawless. Strong. In control.
I climbed into my car, slipped the key in, and started the engine.
It roared to life beneath me.
And just like that, I was off—
Fake smile, high heels, and all—
Driving into a world that suddenly felt a little too real.
---