Chapter 7

Toby wakes up in the wee hours of the morning and cannot fall back asleep. Despite the crisp natural air, Mel’s body heat and motions make him uncomfortable. He’s not accustomed to sleeping in the same bed as someone. He knows that masturbating often gives him the endorphins he needs to rest. He grabs his phone and scrolls through the open tabs on his private browser before thinking, if he has a video of an image fresh in his mind - one made mere hours ago - why not use it? He grabs his shirt from the floor.

As Mel breathes slowly, sound asleep, Toby turns the volume up on his phone, and listens to her moan. Her breasts bounce, and he stares. His hand wraps tightly around himself and starts stroking. There is no art to it in the moment; he only wants to reach that finish. An emphatic gasp has him close. He is about to reach the point of no return, when he sees it. Something in the mirror above the bed in the video. It almost looks like a silhouette. Something hanging over Mel’s shoulder. It’s black and blurry and has no discernible features, but something about it feels present and voyeuristic. Hovering. Almost as if it’s conscious of its own presence. The image is nothing, and yet his eye can’t leave it. And then it vanishes.