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I close my eyes. Tell me Damien erased your messages. Tell me you were so caught up in grief you couldn’t think straight.
Tell me you love me.
Devil: Got to go. Have work to do.
My heart folds in on itself.
Angelbaby123: Wait. I just need a few more minutes.
I miss talking to Cain—the Cain on this app. Up until the night of the ball, I spent the last few weeks talking to him about everything. My feelings, my therapy, my favorite movies and songs, how much I loved him…
I need that Cain back.
Angelbaby123: It’s so lonely here. I don’t have anyone to talk to. Everyone in this house, with the exception of Geoffrey, is an asshole. There’s a rude chef who won’t let me enter the kitchen for a glass of water. There’s also a bitch maid who likes to whisper mean things to me whenever I walk outside my bedroom. They all suck. I can’t take it, Cain. I want to come back home. I miss you.
The dots appear, then disappear again…and then his screen name turns gray.
I’m all but clawing at the window when I hear a knock on my bedroom door.
“Go away.”
“I’m afraid I can’t,” Geoffrey calls out before the knob turns.
I raise an eyebrow as he waltzes in with a bowl of popcorn and two sodas.
“I’ve been instructed to hang out with you tonight,” he says dryly, looking less than thrilled.
“By who?”
“Who do you think?” Rolling his eyes, he sets the food down on the nightstand. “What kind of movies do you enjoy? And so help me God, I will hang myself with your bedsheets if you expect me to sit through a chick flick.”
“I don’t really like to watch movies,” I tell him, reaching for the remote.
He looks relieved. “Thank—”
“I much prefer reality television.”
He looks up at the ceiling. “This is going to be a long night.”