1 The sound of his rhythmic, sickening breath is a ghost that refuses to leave my skin. I was buried under my duvet, shaking so violently the bedframe rattled, a prisoner to the nightmare of three nights ago. Sleep wasn’t an escape; it was a trap. So, I grabbed my phone, desperate for the mindless hum of social media to drown out the silence. The first thing on my feed was a video. It was Madison, my best friend. She was on camera, her face a mask of perfectly curated grief, tears tracking down her cheeks like rain on a windowpane. She was describing an assault. Every detail she uttered—the smell of stale tobacco, the way the intruder’s hand felt against her throat, the specific sequence of the terror—was mine. She was telling my story, but she was claiming it was hers. When it happened, she was the first person I called. She was the one who held me while I sobbed, the one who gently guided me into a hot shower, whispering that I’d be okay. By the time I had stopped shaking enough to think, any physical evidence of that monster had been washed down the drain. “It’s okay, Harper,” she had whispered, pulling me into a hug that felt like sanctuary at the time. “You have that security camera in your bedroom, remember? We’ll find him. We’ll get justice.” I couldn’t bear to look at the footage myself. I was too broken. So, when Madison offered to take the files and go to the police for me, I didn’t hesitate. I trusted her more than I trusted my own shadow. We’d been inseparable since we were kids. Now, I watched her use those files to perform for an audience of strangers. I stumbled out of bed, my legs like lead, and threw open her bedroom door. “Why is that video online? Madison, take it down! Now!” Madison didn’t even flinch. She was sitting at her vanity, casually checking her engagement metrics. “Relax, babe. The internet is faster than the precinct. I’m putting it out there so people can help identify him. I’m doing this for you.” “You’re telling them it happened to you,” I hissed, my voice cracking. “I’m protecting your reputation, Harper. Do you really want the whole world knowing it was you? This way, the creep gets caught, and you stay clean. Don’t be so ungrateful.” My heart hammered against my ribs. I remembered the man’s voice, a gravelly rasp against my ear in the dark. “I’m coming back for you, little girl. You call the cops, and you’re dead.” It had been pitch black that night. I had fought so hard he’d shoved my face into the pillow to muffle my screams. He hadn’t seen my face clearly, but in the dim moonlight reflecting off the vanity mirror, I had caught a glimpse of him. A jagged scar across his cheek. Cold, dead eyes. I had planned to move out immediately, to disappear before he could find me again. But Madison had just put a target on her own back—or mine. “The video is clear enough for him to recognize the room, Madison! If he sees this, he’ll come back. You have to delete it!” Madison’s phone buzzed. She glanced at it, her expression shifting from bored to annoyed. “Look, I have things to do. Just go back to bed and let me handle the PR, okay?” She stood up, grabbed my shoulders, and physically shoved me out of her room. The door clicked shut, locking me out. I paced the living room, my breath coming in shallow gasps. My eyes drifted to the TV. The screen was glowing. Madison had been casting her phone to the smart TV earlier, and she’d forgotten to disconnect. The messages appearing on the screen turned my blood to ice. 2 Connor [2:14 PM]: The video is blowing up. You’re playing the victim perfectly. Everyone’s eating it up. Madison [2:15 PM]: I know, right? That idiot cried so loud in the footage, it’s like she wanted to be a star. The GoFundMe is already at five grand. Madison [2:16 PM]: She tried to make me delete it just now. Hilarious. I’m not throwing away this kind of easy money. The room seemed to tilt. “That idiot.” She was talking about me. She wasn’t seeking justice; she was monetizing my trauma. My best friend was a vulture, picking at my bones before I was even dead. Then, the next message from my fiancé, Connor, shattered what was left of my soul. Connor [2:18 PM]: Did you handle the guy? Make sure he’s gone. If he gets picked up and talks, we’re screwed. Madison [2:19 PM]: Relax. He’s just some drifter from my hometown. A total scumbag who’d do anything for a fix. I paid him well, and I already scrubbed the physical evidence off her. Even if she goes to the feds, she’s got nothing but a video of a masked man. The world went silent. It wasn’t a random attack. It was a production. Directed by my fiancé, produced by my best friend. I felt a surge of nausea so violent I had to grip the back of the sofa. They had orchestrated my ruin just to get rid of me. Connor [2:21 PM]: I hate thinking about another guy touching her, even if it was the plan. It’s disgusting. Madison [2:22 PM]: Ugh, tell me about it. But this was the only way to get her to break it off with you. She’s so ‘noble’—she’ll think she’s tainted and doesn’t deserve you anymore. Plus, she’s loaded. Make her feel guilty enough, and she’ll hand over a massive ‘goodbye’ check. Their words were jagged glass in my heart. I had supported them both for years. I had paid for Connor’s MBA, covered Madison’s rent when she was “finding herself,” and stood by them when everyone else saw through their shallow facades. I pulled out my phone, my hands surprisingly steady now, and filmed the TV screen. I recorded every word of their betrayal. “Ah!” A muffled shriek came from Madison’s room. She must have realized her phone was still casting. I bolted to my room, threw myself onto the bed, and pulled the covers up. Seconds later, Madison burst in, her eyes darting around the room like a cornered rat. “Harper? Are you awake? Have you been out here?” I rubbed my eyes, feigning a groggy, tear-stained confusion. “What? Madison, what’s wrong? I’m trying to sleep.” She stared at me, searching for a crack in my mask. Finding none, she exhaled, her shoulders dropping. “Nothing, babe. I just… I felt bad for being mean earlier. I’m going to make us some dinner, okay?” I nodded silently, watching her leave. The moment the door shut, my face went cold. I opened my laptop and pulled up the original security footage—the one thing she thought I hadn’t watched. I forced myself to look. I watched the man. He was tall, built like a soldier, moving with a terrifying, calculated precision. And then I saw it—under the sleeves of his tactical jacket, the unmistakable puckered skin of old gunshot wounds. This wasn’t some “hometown drifter.” This was someone dangerous. Someone professional. Madison had lied to Connor. Or the man had lied to her. Either way, the wolf they’d invited into the house wasn’t on a leash. A plan began to form in the hollowed-out space where my heart used to be. 3 That evening, Madison laid out a spread that would have looked great on Instagram: pulled pork sliders, creamy slaw, and spicy buffalo wings. Everything I hated. Everything Connor loved. “Eat up, Harper,” she said, her voice dripping with fake honey. “You need your strength.” I sat there, picking at a slider, looking like a ghost of myself. “You know,” Madison said, wiping her mouth with a napkin. “I haven’t heard from Connor all day. He must be so worried. You really should tell him what happened.” I looked down at my plate. “I can’t. I’m… I’m ashamed, Maddie.” “I know, babe. And honestly? Connor is such a traditional guy. He’s always said he has this thing about ‘purity’ in a relationship. It’s not fair, but… you might be right to be worried.” She reached across the table, squeezing my hand. “Maybe it’s better to let him go before he looks at you with pity.” I felt like vomiting. “You’re right. I don’t deserve him anymore. Tell him… tell him I want to break up.” I fled to my room before she could see the murderous look in my eyes. Within minutes, my phone was buzzing with “missed calls” from Connor. I ignored them. Madison knocked and walked in without waiting. “He’s devastated, Harper. He’s crying. He says he spent his best years on you.” “I know,” I whispered into my pillow. “I should compensate him. For his time.” I reached into my nightstand and pulled out a folder. It contained the deed to the condo—the one my parents had bought for me as a graduation gift. “Give him the place. I can’t stay here anyway. I’m going to my parents’ house upstate.” Madison’s eyes practically turned into dollar signs. “The condo? Are you sure?” “I just want it all to be over,” I said, sounding broken. She practically skipped out of the room. I waited until I heard her front door close. Then, I pulled out my suitcase. I didn’t book a flight upstate. I booked a flight to London. My parents had moved there for my father’s hedge fund job two years ago. I had stayed in the States for Connor. If Madison and Connor wanted my life, they could have it. Including the monster they’d invited into it.
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