Lusting Over Her

Rain fell heavily as Nickey stepped off the bus, the cold water soaking his worn coat. The bag on his shoulder dragged him sideways, forcing him to lean awkwardly to stay upright. His bag, half open, betrayed him, a journal slipped out and landed in a puddle with a soft splash. Nickey bent down, hands trembling, and picked it up. The damp page that had slipped out clung to his fingers, smudged but still legible.

His gaze fell on a sentence that slammed into him.

Michael, his cousin, caused the house explosion that killed our parents and siblings two years ago to cover a smuggling debt.

A flash of anger ignited in his chest, a fire that had lain dormant for too long. This was the beginning, the moment to set things right. Another line hinted at a twin brother, thought dead, maybe still alive. His stomach tightened, swirling with a mixture of hope and dread.

Nickey lifted his head, squinting through the rain at Michael’s sprawling estate. Ivy crawled up the stone walls like protective armor, concealing secrets within. Michael waited at the gate, a grin plastered on his face, hands clapping Nickey’s shoulder too hard.

“Hey, cousin! Glad you’re here! Come inside, get yourself cleaned up,” he said, voice too bright, too rehearsed.

Then Trina appeared, her crimson robe glowing against the gray backdrop of rain. Her laugh was soft, curious, almost familiar. She hummed a tune Nickey knew, a melody his family had once sung together. How did she know it? The carved “M” on the gate, echoing Michael’s ring, hinted at careful surveillance. A glint from the chandelier above caught his eye, a hidden lens trained on him. His chest tightened.

Michael grabbed his arm and steered him toward the house. “Got a room for you upstairs, and a job at Eagles Company. Fresh start and all,” he said, smiling as if everything was normal.

Nickey nodded, forcing a smile. “Thanks for being there, Michael. It means a lot,” he mumbled, hiding the storm brewing inside him. Trina’s eyes lingered on him, bright, piercing, stirring a warmth he wasn’t ready for.

Inside, the heavy doors groaned shut behind him. He dropped his bag in the guest room, pulling out a burned photo of his family, his mother, father, and brother. Memories of fire, screams, and chaos surged up, threatening to drown him. Trina’s hum floated down the stairs, blending with his anger.

“She’s something, isn’t she?” Michael chuckled, oblivious to Nickey’s tightening fists. Right then, a plan formed. He would use Trina to hurt Michael, act grateful and naive, all while plotting revenge from the shadows.

The room felt smaller than he remembered, moonlight spilling across the old wooden floor. Trina’s hum grew louder outside his door, stopping with a soft tap. A shadow moved behind her, and a faint click echoed, like a hidden lock or a step carefully placed.

Nickey gripped the doorknob, heart racing. “Who’s out there?” he whispered, breath short. Was it her? Michael? Or maybe the twin, somewhere close? He didn’t know, but he could feel the beginning of something monumental, and he was ready.

“Nickey, you good in there?” Michael’s voice cut through the quiet. Nickey jumped.

“Yeah, just settling,” he yelled back, keeping his tone light, though his hand stayed firm. Trina’s hum softened, patient, deliberate.

“Let me know if you need anything,” Michael added, footsteps fading. Nickey pressed his ear against the door, straining to catch anything. Another shadow shifted, another click sounded, sharper this time.

“Trina?” he whispered, testing, but silence answered him.

He stepped back, wiping rain from his face, the journal page burning a hole in his pocket. “Need to think this through,” he muttered, pacing. Moonlight caught floating dust, and he pictured his family’s faces in the photo, their eyes wide, their mouths screaming, the smell of smoke still in his mind.

“I’ll make him answer for it,” he vowed, voice low but firm.

Trina’s hum returned, her presence palpable, her robe vivid in his memory, the sound teasing his curiosity. Another shadow shifted, and a light knock tapped the wood softly.

“Nickey?” Her voice floated through, gentle, low, flipping his stomach. He froze, hand hovering over the doorknob.

“Hey, just checking on you,” she teased. “I’m fine, thanks,” he replied, voice tight. “Okay, but if you want company, I’m here,” she added, stepping away. The shadow vanished, but the click lingered like a heartbeat.

“Company?” he muttered, frowning. Was she testing him, or was this another trap Michael had set? Thoughts of the twin, the smuggling debt, the hidden lens all stacked like weights on his mind. Clouds rolled in, dimming the moonlight, the room growing cold.

“Got to figure this out,” he whispered, sitting on the bed, the page clutched in his hand. Another knock came, lighter this time. He stood, heartbeat hammering, hand trembling.

“Who’s there?” he called, louder, but silence answered. The lens’s glint flashed in his mind, the click echoed, a cruel game.

“Michael? Trina? Anyone?” he demanded, stepping closer to the door. Only the faint hum returned. He turned the knob slowly, peeking into the hallway. Empty. Only a trace of perfume lingered, subtle and alluring.

Nickey exhaled sharply. This was no ordinary visit. The game had begun, and he was ready to chase it, follow every shadow, every hum, every click, until the truth came out. His plan ignited inside him, hot and relentless, like fire waiting to consume everything Michael had built.

And somewhere, in the darkness of the estate, secrets waited. Secrets that could destroy or save him.