A Dead Lover's Lingering Shadow
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something metallic-an abandoned textile factory, just like the news said. My head throbbed. I tasted blood. Garth Figueroa, a name I' d only
raspy, like gravel grinding. "Heard you
ierced through the dull ache in my belly. Ho
ars. Five years I thought about this. Thought about him. And then I thought about you." H
widened. He was holding something-a vest, thick and heavy, covered in blin
" Garth chuckled. "But the messag
scream, but a gag was roughly shoved into my mouth, choking off the sound. The vest clicked into place, snug aregards. Tell him this is just the beginning." He wrenched the gag out. "Now, make the call."
as a spider silk, tried to unfurl in my chest. He would come. He had to.
mpatient, blasted through the speaker. It wasn't the voic
ped, my voice raw, "I'm in trouble
hone, his grin widen
of my reach. "Erykah, seriously? You couldn't pick a worse time. Ivy jus
bomb, but from the familiar, crushing w
ivious. "Always with the drama. Every time I try to focus on something
9:15. Grow up? My life was ticking aw
ed, tears stinging my eye
e rising. "I'm done with this. Ivy needs me right
ile, coming from Arthur's end. Ivy. Her w
y, floated through the phone. "Is it Erykah again
thur said, his tone softening instantly when he spoke to her
cattering like glass across
he eerie silence of the factory a
d. Even for you." He looked at me, a strange flicker o
his cronies turned and walked away, their footsteps echoing into the gl
d. I had believed in us, in him. I had convinced myself that his strange loyalty to Ivy was just a leftover from a traumatic childhood, a brotherly bond. He' d spun tales of Ivy, his foster sister, hi
y noise" outside her apartment, the "bad dream" that required Arthur to sleep on her couch, the "urgent plumbing leak"
he'd say, his eyes distant. "She's been t
ide. Once, he missed our engagement party. Our engagement party. He was with Ivy, comforting her after she claimed to have
on he lavished on Ivy, he'd snap. "You're jealous, Erykah. That's not a
l blow, stripping away years of self-deception. Arthur Holmes never loved me, not in the way I loved him. He loved the i
er, not from a physical wound, but from a deeper, more profound hurt. I pulled out my own phone, the
sted loving you. We are ove
uated only by the relentless ticking. I closed my eyes, a single te