What the fuck was she up to tonight? Had she scored at some bar and is not coming home? If so, it would be a long lonely night. I sigh and stare at the screens. The picture stays the same. I almost will her to come home so I get to see her. The longer I sit here, the more morose I become. I can’t believe this is what my life has become—to sit and watch the woman I loved in secret from a long way away. Why had I been so fucking blind and did not see what I had when it was right front of my fucking eyes? It was only when I lost her that I realized how much she meant to me. I sigh. Human nature. I put it down to human nature. Just like we always think the grass is greener on the other side, we often don’t appreciate what we’ve got until it’s too fucking late. If I had my time over, I would make a move sooner—what the fuck am I talking about? I never made a move on Emma while we were working together. If I had my time over, I would make a move on her, period. Movement catches my attention. The door opens, and Emma walks through it. I hold my breath, waiting to see if a bloke is following. When she slams the door shut with her right foot, I breathe a sigh of relief. My behavior is totally fucking childish, I know. She should be happy. She should be with someone. I should not be sitting in the fucking mountains wanting her to be a fucking nun. And maybe if she found herself a nice man, she might not be in any danger anymore. But those thoughts are too painful, and so I push them away. Emma looks beat. She obviously has been partying or some such shit with her socialite friends. I feel myself turn green with envy. I hate her friends. My feelings are totally irrational, and yet I cannot stop them. It takes her less than five minutes to collapse into bed. In my mind, I give her a kiss good night. I’m about to walk upstairs when something catches my attention. At first, I think I’m simply not able to let go and shake my head. But then I can see shadows glide across one of the monitors.
The shadowy figures disappear out of sight and then reappear. I furrow my brow. This does not look good. My fingers clench into fists, and I feel like punching the monitor. Mesmerized, I stare at what’s unfolding on the screen in front of me. My brain is not processing the information fast enough. There are strange men in Emma’s apartment. Fuel. Matches. Flames. Holy fucking shit. Those dudes just set fire to Emma’s apartment. I can feel my blood boil. They promised, and they reneged on their promise. Someone’s going to have to pay.