Split [ONC 2024]

14. Husband

I don't know what to do with myself.

If I had any intelligence left in my confused head, I would run right out of this house and never look back. Daniel left. I'm alone. I'm free to go.

But I don't. And as I tremble with anxiety, I finally figure out why. 

Even if the realization terrifies me, it's a salvation. If I leave now, there is still doubt. My conclusion will remain nothing but an assumption. If I stay, I can confirm everything, and then I'll know it's not me.

That I'm truly innocent. A mere target.

But why?

I didn't even know Daniel until all of this happened. We were neutral at first. We started bonding once we both observed the shadows, once he saw me crash and burn and stayed with me.

I can't imagine him killing my mother to get my attention. Hell, he didn't even know I wasn't getting along with her. He didn't know about Anika. And just imagining him strangling Steve makes me sick.

Nothing in his behavior even indicates that he is a crazy stalker. Plus, he's a detective, always busy with police work. He didn't have time to stalk me. Okay, maybe he had the equipment, but once again, why? What's in it for him? This is too complicated to be a crazy impulse. It would have been planned. It would have been executed with surgical precision.

I've grown to know Daniel. He would never do such a thing.

I falter as I realize I really don't know him. We met less than a week ago. And this house doesn't offer much information either.

Hugging my arms, I walk around the bedroom and take in every bit of furniture, every bare surface. In a show of bravery, I open his closet. It's filled with suits in different shades of blue and grey, as well as matching shirts and ties. In the back, he has jeans and t-shirts, most of them simple, some with what appears to be obscure metal bands on them.

He owns mostly shoes, with a few pairs of sneakers. His pajamas are plain. I don't look in his underwear drawer, but I know he likes black, tight boxers, and they look so good on him.

So maybe I don't know much about him, but I know what his body looks like, where his scars from training are, how he kisses and how he likes to cuddle after sex.

I know he's brave, intelligent, determined. I know he can see and understand things most people overlook. I know he's not quick to jump to conclusions and that he was always there when I needed him.

I grit my teeth and close the closet door. What's wrong with me? First I freak out over losing control and now I'm shifting the blame towards the only person who's been by my side through all this ordeal.

Why can't I accept that he just trusts me and believes in me? Why do I have to make it into something sinister?

Because it makes no sense. 

I drop on the bed again, groan and clutch my head in my hands. If I'm not the one doing this, why is it happening? The death, the shadows... Everything. There needs to be a logical reason, or at least a motive. If it's not me and it's nod Daniel, it would most likely be someone I know.

As much as I rack my brain, I can't figure it out. The only two options are the same. Daniel is right about one thing. Shadows don't kill people. Which just leaves me and him.

"Still here?"

I jump and turn towards the door. Daniel is back, holding a suitcase. He places it by the foot of the bed and sits next to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.