Chapter 8: Chapter Eight: No Place to Run

At the office, my colleague Sister Cynthia Gold and I went to copy the documents needed for the meeting. She has a very outgoing personality.

"Totally forgot to tell you, I ran into your brother and our 'Princess' when I was out for dinner with friends the other day," Cynthia Gold said as she unpacked the files, turning her head to me. "It seemed like it was her birthday, and our company only invited your brother."

"Princess" is the nickname of Florence Bobby.

Birthdays should be spent with important people, so she could only bring her best friend and boyfriend.

"Oh," I responded with a slight smile, pressing the start button, and the papers came out with a rustling sound from the other side.

"It was actually the first time I saw your brother drinking," Cynthia Gold said, showing a thoughtful expression, as if recalling something.

"What's up?" I asked.

Cynthia Gold shook her head, "When I was leaving to go to the restroom, I bumped into him again. He was staring at his phone, tapping away, as if he was sending a message. I said hello, but he didn't even hear me. He looked..."

She hesitated, making my heart race, and I involuntarily tilted my head, more focused on her.

"He looked really sad, like he had just gone through a breakup," Cynthia Gold finished, waving her hand. "I must have been mistaken. He doesn't even have a girlfriend. I haven't seen him look at anyone seriously in years, and he's always so busy, stuck in the office all day. Who would date him, right?"

Sometimes I think Sister Cynthia Gold is very perceptive, and other times, I feel she's quite oblivious to matters between men and women.

Or maybe I'm just too mature for my age.

Don't Stan Wallace and Florence Bobby look like a couple?

Because of what Cynthia Gold said, I couldn't help but scrutinize Stan Wallace closely after work.

Did they have a fight?

Noticing my odd behavior, Stan Wallace pursed his lips and squinted at me for a moment, then suddenly reached out and pushed my forehead. This time, it was different; when he pushed, he gently covered my eyes with his palm.

My eyelashes fluttered, feeling the resistance from his palm. Instinctively, I gripped my backpack tighter, and my breath caught for a second.

This time, he didn't tell me not to overthink things. He said nothing, but I understood his unspoken words. We both remained silent, understanding each other without a word.

"Brother," I called softly, unable to bear the warmth of his palm. When he moved his hand, I realized he wasn't looking at me, his head turned to one side, gazing at something unknown.

I followed his gaze, but saw nothing.

At the door of my apartment, I hung my helmet on his motorcycle.

"Brother, there's a black envelope under the mattress in my room. It contains a lot of letters. Could you get it for me?" I asked once his motorcycle was parked at the entrance of the community. "I need it for a class reunion tomorrow."

Stan Wallace paused slightly as he got off the bike, his brows furrowing and then relaxing, "Mm."

"Do you need anything else?" Stan Wallace asked, "I can bring it all together."

I shook my head, "No, nothing else."

Stan Wallace gave me a brief glance, "Mm."

He didn't ask about the class reunion, who I was meeting, or when. He was quieter than usual today.

After he dropped me off, Stan Wallace left. Since Florence Bobby's birthday, I hadn't seen them interact or go on any dates. They probably had a falling out.

I sensed something, but just as he didn't pry into my personal life, I felt I had no right to ask about his.

So, as we stood by the elevator, we remained silent, not saying goodbye for the first time.

The elevator doors closed slowly, and he left.

I stood there for a while, then, as usual, I ran to the living room window to watch him leave the community, riding his cool black motorcycle.

I sighed, ready to draw the curtains when a familiar figure appeared in my peripheral vision.

My hand trembled, and I took a step back, tripping and falling heavily to the floor.

I would never forget the silhouette of my stepfather, Randolph Wallace, and I would never mistake it.

He had found me.

Was neither fear nor a father's dignity enough to make a demon stop?

How could I make him let me go?

My hands shook uncontrollably. The sky outside the window seemed to darken instantly, and a hand reeking of smoke appeared, trying to penetrate the glass and trap me again.

I swallowed hard, quickly getting up to lock the security door and pull the curtains tightly shut. Only then did I dare to peek out at the green area below.

The community is fully enclosed, accessible only with a key fob. I had no idea how he got in.

Randolph Wallace looked anxious, constantly asking people questions and showing them his phone, then scanning the area after getting answers.

When his gaze lifted toward the building, I felt like he had already spotted me. There was nowhere to run, like a naked doll trapped in an arena, waiting for the cage to open and be torn apart.

Slowly covering the small gap in the curtain, the room fell into an unprecedented gloom, and my dream shattered.