Chapter 4: Trapped by Desire and Fear

A chill ran down my spine. My hands went clammy as I stared at the torn student ID. The college just sent a warning about a missing tutor—and here I was, holding half a college ID under the guest bed.

I tried to spot a name, but it was ripped right down the middle. My imagination ran wild: What if this belonged to the missing student? What if...

The cheerful room suddenly felt like a set piece in a bad dream. I wanted to bolt. I fumbled with the window latch, but the rain was coming down harder than ever. No way my Corolla would make it far tonight.

I hesitated, thumbed through my contacts—my parents, a friend—but slid the phone back in my pocket. No way to explain this without sounding like a lunatic. Rachel’s perfume lingered in the air, daring me to stay.

I let out a shaky breath. Desire trumped reason again. I wasn’t leaving. Not yet.

From the porch next door, an old man’s voice cut through the rain, tense and desperate. “Don’t take the knife, put it down, let’s calm down, don’t be scared, I’ll take you to the hospital.” Then the sharp slam of a sliding door. I caught the last words—his phone wasn’t working.

I checked mine. No bars. I toggled airplane mode, hoping for a miracle, but nothing. My stomach lurched. It felt just like those high school days when the principal used a signal jammer during exams. No calls. No texts.

I tried 911, but the call dropped before it even rang. My heart hammered. If Rachel was dangerous, she’d thought of everything—even the weather was on her side.

I eyed the door, every creak in the hallway suddenly magnified. My mind raced through every horror story I’d ever heard. I remembered her kickboxing trophy—her strong arms, her smirk. Even with her limp, she could take me down in seconds.

In the rain-streaked window, I caught the reflection of the door inching open. Rachel’s face appeared, blank and unreadable, half-lit by the hallway lamp.

She waited in the shadow of the doorway, saying nothing. The silence pressed in, broken only by the moan of the wind and the soft creak as she shifted her weight. She felt like a ghost—someone I thought I knew, now a total stranger.

If I thought there was a fifty-fifty chance she was a killer before, now it felt more like ninety percent. I gripped the windowsill, acting like I was just watching the rain, trying to hide my panic.

Her gaze flicked from my face to the phone on the nightstand. My heart thudded so loud I was sure she could hear it.

"You’d be crazy to try and drive in this. Better to stay where it’s safe," she said, her voice soft but chilling. I turned, trying to look startled. “Oh! Rachel—I didn’t hear you come in.”

She grinned, stepping back into the hall. “You were a million miles away. I’ve got steak on the table—medium rare, just how you said you liked it—and a bottle of wine breathing on the counter. Thought you might like something nice.” She winked, her tone light, her eyes impossible to read.

She might have a heart of ice, but damn if she didn’t look like trouble you’d want to get into.

She stood there, waiting, her body language a mix of invitation and challenge. I could feel her sizing me up, wondering if I’d play along or bolt.

My mom always said never eat food from someone you don’t trust. I decided I wasn’t going to let her call the shots—not now.

Before she could react, I crossed the room and hugged her, holding her tight. Her body stiffened in shock.

I let my voice drop, trying to sound as earnest as possible. “Rachel, you’re beautiful. I mean it.”

I bet everything on the hope that if I got close—if I played into her desires—she’d drop her guard, even for a second.

“Wait...” she pressed her hands to my chest, but her breath was coming faster now.

I looked her dead in the eye, letting my voice soften. “Rachel, I really like you. Ever since that first day, you’ve had me hooked.”

She melted for a moment, head resting on my shoulder. I held my breath, hoping I could flip the script.

But just then, she snapped out of it and shoved me back so hard I nearly crashed into the dresser. My back hit the wood. For a second, all the bravado drained out of me, replaced by cold, crawling dread.