Twisted Valentine

Shelter

✽ Jason ✽

I watched from my window as David’s car rolled to the curb outside Hawthorne House. Headlights swept the brick facade, then cut out. For a moment, the street was still. David leaned across the driver’s seat, smiling at Mandy like he had earned the right.

He hadn’t.

Mandy stepped out, coat pulled close, hair falling in sandy waves over her shoulders. She didn’t look back at the car. She didn’t linger. She didn’t invite him up.

Good.

David stayed in the car. He didn’t follow her inside. He didn’t try to push past her boundaries. He drove away after she reached the entrance, and his taillights vanished down the street. I felt satisfaction settle into place. Satisfaction, because the night ended the way it should. She belonged behind locked doors. Away from hungry hands. Mandy entered the lobby alone. I moved away from the window and stood in the dark of my apartment. The floorboards were familiar under my feet. The unit beneath hers. The place chosen for access, for proximity, for control. People paid for views. I paid for what I could hear through the ceiling.

I listened.

Her steps on the stairs. A pause at her floor. Keys. The soft click of her lock turning. Then her door opened above me. I allowed myself a smile. Mandy moved through her apartment with the careful pace she used when she was pretending she wasn’t afraid. Light switch. A shallow breath. A bag set down. Silence.

Then the change.

A shift in her footsteps, a stop too abrupt. A quiet sound from her throat. Not a scream. Not a gasp. A realization.

She knew.

She wouldn’t have proof. She never did. I had made sure of that. No broken latch. No forced window. Nothing missing. Just the smallest corrections to her space, the neatness that did not match her habits. The kind of detail that whispered there had been hands where there should not have been. I waited for her to do what she always did when her fear had no target. But I frowned as I listened closely. Suddenly, my phone lit up. I glance down, and I couldn’t help but smirk. It was a text from Mandy.

✉Mandy: Jason? Are you awake?

For a moment, I considered ignoring her, but the pull was far too great. With a loud sigh, I responded.

✉Jason: Yes.

✉Mandy: Can I ask you a massive favor? Would you please come to my apartment? I think someone was here…

I didn’t reply immediately. I wanted that fear to build. I didn’t want to rush or show any eagerness. And then I let out another sigh as I typed my response.

✉Jason: Yes. Which apartment are you in?

She replied a moment later, and I nodded as I left my apartment. I made sure to lock the door behind me. On the stairs, I stepped lightly, avoiding the creaks I had memorized. Her floor smelled faintly of detergent and old carpet. I knocked once, then waited. The door opened fast. Mandy stood there with wide eyes and a tense mouth, hair loose, cheeks pale. She tried to look composed. She failed.

“Come in,” she said. I entered and let her close the door behind me. Her apartment was exactly as I had left it earlier, except for the tremor in her movements. The lamp cast a warm circle over the living room. The couch faced the small table with her laptop. The chair was pushed in neatly. She noticed everything now. Fear sharpened her.

“What happened?” I asked, keeping my tone even.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “It just feels wrong. Like someone moved things. Like—” she cut herself off, embarrassed by how it sounded.

“You checked your lock?” I asked.

“Yes. It was locked. Nothing is broken,” she said, and I nodded as if that mattered.

“Ok…show me what feels wrong,” I suggested. I wanted to see if she had noticed everything. Mandy pointed at the folded blanket. The curtain edge tucked too neatly. The chair aligned. Small. Meaningless to anyone else. Not meaningless to her. She noticed everything I had touched. I was impressed. I walked to the front door first. I inspected the lock, the strike plate, and the frame. No damage. I already knew. I still checked, because she needed the performance. Then I crossed to the balcony door. The latch was secure. I tested it once, firm, then checked the track. Clean. No grit. The windows in the living room were shut. I ran my fingers along the latches, then the kitchen window, then the bedroom window.

All closed. All intact.

“There is no sign of entry,” I said. Mandy hugged her arms.

“But I know. I know someone was here,”

“Was anything taken?” I asked.

“No,” she said quickly. “Nothing. My purse is here. My tips. My laptop. Everything,” I looked at her laptop, then away.

“If someone broke in, they usually take something,” I said, and she swallowed.

“Unless they weren’t here to steal,” she whispered. I let that sit for a beat. Her imagination would fill the space. It always did.

“There are other explanations,” I said. “You have been stressed. Your schedule is messy. Maybe you just don’t remember,” her eyes flashed, and I kept my face blank.

“So, you think I am making it up!” she snapped.

“I think you are scared,” I replied. “And fear makes small details feel bigger,” she glared at me for a long moment before she took a shaky breath.

“I hate this. I hate feeling like I am losing my mind,”

“You are not,” I said, calm and firm. “You are tired. That is all,” of course, I knew that it wasn’t all. Her gaze dropped to the floor, and then she looked at me pleadingly.

“I know it’s a lot to ask…but would you stay?” she asked. My left eye twitched, and I turned away. I kept my body still as I pretended to consider it. I knew I would stay, but I wanted to prolong this. “Please, Jason…just…sleep on the couch…please?” she begged. I looked at the couch, and then I finally looked back at her.

“All right,” I said. Her shoulders loosened, and the relief on her face was immediate. It was the kind of relief a person felt when the world finally made sense again.

She didn’t understand what she had offered.

I took off my coat and folded it over the chair. I sat on the couch as if it was an inconvenience, as if I was doing her a favor, as if I hadn’t built my life under hers for this exact moment.

“Lock your bedroom door if it helps,” I told her. I knew she would. She did so every night.

“Thank you,” she said. Mandy left me alone, and I glanced around. I knew this place, probably better than she did. She returned with a pillow and a blanket. I accepted it in silence. When she hovered for a moment, I was tempted to skip ahead. But I forced myself not to. I had a plan, and I wasn’t about to mess it up. “Goodnight,”

“Goodnight, Mandy,” I said as I unfolded the blanket. I watched her move toward her room, the light catching her hair, the careful way she glanced back once as if checking I was real. I didn’t sit back down until she closed her bedroom door. I held my breath as I heard the lock click into place. I got comfortable on the couch and smiled.

Above me, the building was quiet.

Inside me, everything was settled.

✽✽✽