The other line is quiet for a minute, and then, “are you okay?”
“I’m fine. They aren’t here anymore.”
“You need to pack your things and leave, Isa. I will take care of it.”
“Do you think this could have something to do with…”
“I don’t know,” he tells me. “I’m turning around now. I’ll be there soon, but don’t wait for me. Just pack your things and go back to the city.”
“Okay.”
“Let me know when you get there.”
He hangs up, and I do what he says. I pack. But I can’t leave like this. I can’t leave without checking to be sure that some of my father’s possessions are still alright.
There are things everywhere, strewn all over the floor. My books have been pulled from the shelves. The photos that remain on the wall are crooked, and the ones that aren’t have shattered to the floor.
Even the photo of my father.
My hands shake as I pick up the pieces and replace them one by one. It's a long process. I save the broken knick-knacks on the floor until last. But when I move to sweep them up, something odd catches my eye.
And because of who my father was, I know exactly what it is before reality has time to sink in.
A listening device.
An icy draft crawls down my spine and settles into my shaking hands.
Someone has been listening to me.
Before I can even comprehend the full horror of my situation, I’m tearing the place apart. Searching the walls. Underneath the counters. The vents.
Things my father used to do.
By the time I have finished, it isn't only listening devices I have retrieved, but cameras too. The shockwaves have taken control of my entire body now. My heartbeat thrashes in my ears. My fingers tremble, and my lungs struggle to take in air.
It isn't the agency.
It can't be the agency.
Right?
But if not them, then who?
The cameras were in my bedroom. In my fucking bedroom. Where I changed. Where I... touched myself.
Oh god.
I think I'm going to be sick.
Chapter Six
Luke boughta plane ticket for this evening, but when I get to the airport, they tell me that I’ve been rescheduled to an earlier flight. I assume that it’s also his doing. He probably thinks if I put it off any longer, I will lose the courage to go back. To smile for the cameras and pretend.
The flight is short. The ride to the hotel is short. Everything is happening too fast, and I’m right where I don’t want to be again.
I feel sick. So, so sick.
I find myself wishing the power in the building would go out, and I’d get stuck in the elevator, just for the peace it would give me.