Through My Window Book Novels & Stories

I thought about him walking over, pushing my window open, sliding his hand under the covers without saying a word The thought alone made me break. A sharp gasp left my throat as heat rushed through me, the release flooding every inch of me until I collapsed back into the pillows, panting. Through the haze, I opened my eyes and froze. Across the way, his window was still open. He was there. Watching. And smiling. The Window Game I should have closed my blinds. I should have pulled the covers over my head and pretended I’d just been tossing and turning. But I didn’t.

I didn’t even know where I was going—just that I needed to move. I found myself in the old library on the east wing, the room that smelled like cedar and paper and whispered memories. There was a large window there, overlooking the garden. I pressed my forehead to the glass, trying to ground myself. But even the moonlight felt wrong. Too cold. Too watchful. I turned to leave— —and froze. The window lock was undone. My heart shot into my throat. I hadn’t opened that window. No one had. The security detail knew better than to touch anything in the protected wings without clearance.

With my healing ability, I’d be back to normal in a day or so. I exhaled, wiping the sheen of sweat from my brow and pushing myself to my feet, ready to leave. But then I noticed the window – partially open behind the half-drawn pale green curtains. A sudden draft caused the fabric to billow inward, and rain drifted in, scattering droplets across the couch cushions and a few books left atop it. It seemed Anna’s maid had forgotten to close the window before leaving. I moved toward it, driven by instinct, to close it before the rain ruined the books.

When daddy finds out he's going to skin him. I rolled back onto my side and looked out the window at the tops of the trees in the distance. I didn't know that our windows aren't really windows until today. I could see through other people's windows with the drone, but when I buzzed our house earlier, all I saw was the reflection of the light outside. Daddy had surrounded the whole house with one-way glass.

Lilith sat cross-legged on her bed, engrossed in the pages of a captivating book. Her face was buried within its depths as she lost herself in the world of words. The room was quiet, save for the rustling of pages and the occasional sound of her breath. Suddenly, a gust of wind whistled through the room, causing the curtains to billow and dance. Lith looked up, her eyes widening in surprise, as the window that had always been locked swung open with a creak. The wind seemed to beckon her, inviting her to embrace the unknown that lay beyond.

I saw him, through smoked glass, unlocking the door. I scurried across a patch of young grass and sat down beneath one of the windows that faced into the square. I thought it was a kitchen window, for no better reason than its proximity to a large waste pipe, which could have meant nothing. I waited for a light to illuminate some of the grass, but when it did, it was at the side of the house and I had to creep round. There was a tiny crack between the window frame and the blind if I was very, very careful, I could just fit my eye in that space and take a look.

I can picture him crazed, tearing up the roads in his truck, racing into the city and quizzing a confused and frightened Mercy about my whereabouts. I've got to keep trying. My heart pounds as I stalk over to the last window, hidden behind a voluminous sheer curtain, the only one I haven't tried because it looks too small to climb out of. "C'mon," I whisper, willing the window to open. With trembling hands, I reach out and grasp the slim metal lock. To my shock, it pops open in my fingers. Relief shoots through me as the window slides over, and muggy air floods the room. Finally. I close my eyes and let my small victory sink in.

Taken tonight. Through the bedroom window. My blood turns to ice. Under it, a new line: "He’s lying to you."

That door is sealed shut. That thought follows me into sleep. The quiet feels peaceful—until it isn’t. I see Lucien standing outside my window. My breath catches. His eyes pierce straight through me, like he’s pulling apart every wall I built, knot by knot. He steps closer, and my heart drops in horror when he passes through the glass as if it isn’t even there. It doesn’t break. It doesn’t make a sound. His eyes never leave mine, not even for a second.

The night spreads over the cabin like a thick shroud, and the cold seeping in from the forest seems to slip through every crack, as if it wants to remind us that out there the world is hostile, and the warmth we have now is fragile, almost borrowed. I’m at the table, leafing through a book I left open since the afternoon without really reading, when a fleeting flash—something that doesn’t match the slow rhythm of snow and darkness—cuts my breath short. It’s not just any reflection, because the light doesn’t come from inside, but from outside, from a low, distant point, as if someone moved a flashlight or a shard of glass caught the moonlight and threw it straight at my window.