Chapter 5: The Neighbor

Sleep was a country I couldn’t afford to visit. The night bled into a grey, gut-wrenching dawn, and I was still awake, a sentinel in my own room. The sly, predatory smirk was burned onto the back of my eyelids. Every creak of the building, every distant car horn, sent a jolt of pure adrenaline through my system. I kept the window firmly latched, the curtains drawn, but it didn’t matter. I felt exposed. I felt like I was standing naked in the middle of the colony square, and that woman, that silhouette, was pointing and laughing.

When Devi’s alarm went off, I nearly jumped out of my skin. I heard her moving around in her room, the familiar sounds of her morning routine now sounding like the soundtrack to my impending doom. She was humming. Of course she was humming. She was blissfully unaware that her pathetic stepson had been caught in a compromising act by a mystery voyeur with a killer smile.

I forced myself out of bed, my limbs stiff and heavy. I looked like shit. My eyes were bloodshot, my face pale. I needed coffee. I needed about a gallon of it.

Devi was in the kitchen, already dressed for school, her hair in a neat, professional bun. “Morning, sleepyhead!” she chirped, her voice entirely too cheerful. “Rough night?”

“You could say that,” I mumbled, pouring myself a cup of coffee.

“Well, try not to look so morose,” she said, patting me on the shoulder. “It’s a beautiful day. The world is your oyster, and all that jazz.”

Yeah, right. My oyster had a fucking pearl of blackmail in it.

I couldn’t focus on anything. All through breakfast, my eyes kept darting towards the living room window. I was drawn to it, a moth to a very, very dangerous flame. Every time a car passed, I flinched. Every time a bird flew past the window, I held my breath. I was a nervous wreck.

After Devi left for work, the apartment felt too small, too quiet. I paced the living room like a caged animal, my coffee cold and forgotten in my hand. I had to know. I had to see if she was there.