Through My Window Series Novels & Stories

I shift forward, eyes narrowing. Through the window, I can see the faint outline of a crib. Ariana’s shadow moves back and forth, slow, rhythmic, soothing. She’s singing. I can’t hear the words, but I know the melody. I press my hand against the cold windowpane of the car, fingers trembling. Something inside me twists tighter, darker. The glass fogs under my breath. I draw a line through it, just one, like I’m cutting the night in half. “Enjoy it while it lasts,” I murmur.

Casey P.O.V It was Sunday morning, and the sunlight streamed gently through my window, casting soft, golden shadows across the room. The faint chirping of birds outside my window added to the serene ambiance. I stretched lazily in bed, savouring the quiet, before finally pulling myself up. Another day, another routine.

Pulled the desk chair over. Lifted it. I swung the chair. The window exploded. Glass rained down. Sharp. Glittering. The sound was so loud it felt like the whole house heard it. I didn't wait. I grabbed the curtain. Wrapped it around my hand. Knocked out the remaining glass from the frame. Behind me, the door burst open. "Miss Hart! Step away from the window!" I looked back. Two guards. Weapons drawn. I looked down. Two stories. Grass below. Maybe I'd break something. Maybe I'd die.

The adrenaline of the hunt is just beginning to subside, giving way to a different tension, duller, deeper. I descend the stairs, cross the icy hall. My steps wake no echo on the stone. In my study, I pour a whiskey, the bitter wood burning without me even tasting it. The wall screen is divided into four. Three show empty angles: the garden, the perimeter, the garage. The fourth is on. It's that window I watch.

Killer? What killer? What side character? Were the floating words in front of me suggesting that a serial killer was hiding outside my window? In the lounge, I looked at the words floating in front of me. I was half-convinced I was losing my mind. I cautiously pulled the curtain open and looked out of the window through the dim moonlight. Moonlight seeped in, spilling across the grounds below. The courtyard was vast and desolate, with not a soul in sight.

The door shook again and chips of wood sprayed through the air as Nathan cracked a deeper gouge into the one barrier between me and his crazed desire. Screaming, I tried to call again, "Art! Art Windsor, I need you right now! Help me!" Activity outside the window caught my eyes and I pulled my hand back inside, pressing my body against the wall as I leaned as close to the glass as I could. "Stand back," Art ordered, "Get away from the window so I can take it out."

Glass catching the afternoon. He pressed it to his face, He held it there for one long breath. Then he pulled it down. He looked at the window. Empty. She was in New York. He wiped his hands dry. He did not examine the specific ache of a man who had spent two and a half years maintaining a lock that had just failed completely in a swimming pool on a Saturday morning while teaching his daughter to be a mermaid. He picked up his phone. He went inside.

The shattered stained-glass window above let in bits of moonlight, casting patches of red and blue on the floor like blood and bruises. She was already there, of course. Sarah. Poised beneath the shattered window like a queen in exile. The moon danced through the colored shards, casting wicked patterns across her face. "Nice to see you made it," she said, voice like silk drawn over glass. "Thought you’d bail." I stepped into the clearing, boots crunching over gravel and bone-dry leaves. “Bail? Not on someone like you,” I said flatly. “You’re not worth the effort.”

I whispered to myself as if there was a light bulb that suddenly flashed above my head. I went to the window and opened the curtain. The window is just the right size and height to use in what I do. I see nothing outside and I only see my reflection. I felt the shape of the window box using my hand from top to bottom “Et aperi mihi volo ut ubi ego vado, Coventry," I whispered the window and blow it carefully while still holding my hands to the windows. I waited a few seconds when the window suddenly became visible, I lost my reflection there and I immediately saw the look of the room. They are completely inside the library while sitting at a round table. Their faces show the annoyance and an

· Someone had taken a picture of my window. · · From outside. · From very close. · And the message beneath it froze my heart. · “You’re next.”