Haunting-Adeline

while she doesn’t talk much about her job, I know she deals with some
pre y heavy ma ers.
She's men oned before that she deals with the dark web and human
trafficking. And that alone is enough to give someone night terrors.
Apparently, her boss is strict with keeping the details confiden al, but
there's been mes where Daya has looked more haunted than Parsons
Manor.
When I had asked what she gets out of it, she had said saving innocent
lives. That was all I needed to hear to know that Daya is a hero.
“You know where the guest bedroom is,” Daya says, lazily poin ng her
finger in the direc on. “Do you want some company? I’m sure you’re really
freaked out.”
I force a smile. “I love you for offering, but I think we both just need
sleep right now,” I say.
Daya nods, and a er wishing me goodnight, re res to her room.
I flop on the white duvet in her guest bedroom. Just like the rest of her
house, it’s pre y bare in here. Light blue walls, decorated with a few
oceanic pictures and white, gauzy curtains.
My eyes snag on those.
Not the curtains themselves, but what’s in between them.
For the second me tonight, my heart lodges into my throat, pulsa ng
against my voice box and preven ng me from making a sound.
Outside the window is the silhoue e of a man. Staring directly at me.
I take a step back, ready to turn and call for Daya. When my phone
buzzes, I flinch, freezing me in place and nearly choking me on the fear.
Keeping one eye on the man, I slide my phone out of my pocket and see
a new text message.
UNKNOWN: You didn’t like my flowers?