The House

Chapter 53 - Day 6: Spilling Secrets

The first thing I notice when the sudden brightness of the screen stops blinding me is that David looks happy and in love in the lock screen image, gently nuzzling a woman with a resting bitch face.

Many people (who aren't me) might find her curly light brown hair, freckles and pale eyes pretty, even beautiful or at least cute, but I don't like her looks at all. I hate Iris on sight.

She hurt David.

I cannot forgive her for that, even if her doing so might mean I now have a chance with him... if we survive this house and he still likes me when all this weirdness is done. Seeing him in a romantic embrace with another woman is jarring, to say the least. I don't like it at all! Looking at his face and seeing how sweetly vulnerable he was makes my heart ache. I hate the idea of David being hurt by anybody.

Why did he not change this painful lock screen? Is he still, deep down, clinging to the threads of his failed marriage? Does he still miss the woman who used and abandoned him? I could understand that even if it galls me. They shared a very intimate history, after all. I wish I could wipe away the last fragments of his pain and make him forget and be happy again.

The second thing I notice while frowning at the picture of David holding his laughing ex-wife in his arms is that she is, without a doubt, not the woman in the sunroom. It is not just her colouring that is different; it is everything. They have no feature similarities, and their demeanour is also very different.

There is a vague, annoying voice in my head, stirring unease in my belly, telling me not to do the Dance of Joy too soon. Just because the woman upstairs is not Iris, it doesn't mean that she's not somebody murdered by David.

I'm ignoring that voice.

I've had enough of doubting the only man who has ever in my entire existence stirred my heart the way David is stirring it. He makes me feel alive and valuable like I matter a great deal. The idea of him being evil is making me seriously angry. I refuse to accept it. Until he comes after me with an axe, I'm going to trust him!

"Belle?!" David calls from the kitchen. "Belle, are you here?"

My heart, leaping with joy and not fear when I hear my name called in David's warm voice, agrees with my stance on the matter. I'm falling in love with this man and I want to be in love with him. He is the best man I've ever met. I am not giving him up without solid proof that he is a psychopath. I don't care if that means that I am a fool.

"Belle?!" He is hurrying through the foyer now, turning on lights as he goes, and I can hear in his voice that he is anxious and worried, not menacing or threatening.

"I'm here!" I call out, crawling from under the couch.

"What are you doing under there?" he chuckles, entering the living area in time to see me appearing from under the piece of furniture and getting to my feet a little sheepishly.

"I found your phone," I tell him, holding the device out to him.

"Oh," he blinks at me in surprise and takes the phone, inspecting it for damage. "Thanks. I wonder how it got there."

"We were sitting here, looking at photographs before the naked beach situation," I remind him with a shrug. "I guess you had it then."

"Right," he grins. "I didn't think to look there. Good job."

"Yeah, you're welcome," I mutter, feeling uncomfortable. It was not my genius insight that caused me to find his phone. I suppose something in my voice gave me away because David narrows his eyes, tilting his head to the side with a slight frown, studying my face intently.