CHAPTER TWO — ELIAS

Moving to a new place was never easy. In fact, it was downright exhausting. But at the end of the day, it was exactly what I needed.

I always grew more unsettled the longer I stayed in one place. Maybe this was part of me running away from the ghosts of my past, but goddamn it — I was just chasing after some peace and quiet. 

Peace from the mistakes I made. 

And silence from the voices in my head. 

If only it was that fucking easy. 

But here I was, my third move of the year and it was only August. The last place was better than this one, but the neighborhood was too densely populated and loud. I hated all the noises; hated how edgy it made me. My nerves were strung and I was barely hanging on a thin thread. I knew I had to move when my neighbor used those powder shooting balls for a gender reveal and I almost snapped at the sudden noise.

Almost lost whatever little sanity I had left.

I moved toward the mess in my living room, avoiding all the packed boxes. I didn’t bother emptying any of them; I never did. And it wasn’t like I had a lot of shit.

Nah, it was all just the bare minimum.

This wasn’t a home; it was just a roof over my head. Sure, this place was a shithole. But I paid the building manager to renovate my apartment before I moved in. The last tenant trashed this place until it was practically unrecognizable. It was a cocaine factory up here until the cops dragged them out.

Walking into the tiny bedroom that was big enough to only fit a king-sized bed, I plopped down onto my mattress. What was the point of having a normal bed, if I wasn’t planning to stay put for long?

Zero furniture made it easy to move. 

I laid on my back and stared at the flaky and chipped ceiling. Damn, that was a cheap renovation. The ceiling fan was dusty and broken. Thank fuck the AC was at least working. 

I stroke the linen bed sheets absently. My gaze moved around the room, bouncing from wall to wall. Restless. Tired. And somehow burned out. Yet, sleep evaded me.

The opened bedroom door taunted me, reminding me of my failures. 

And then the voices were back again. 

Just like every fucking night. 

“I visit you every night even if you don’t call me. I’m lost during the day. What am I?”

“Stars,” I responded to the empty room. 

I heard the distinct giggle, soft and quiet. My chest tightened and I squeezed my eyes shut.

“If you don’t keep me, I’ll break. What am I?”

“A promise.”

“Will you keep a promise then?”

“Anything.”

“Promise you’ll never leave me.”

Her tiny hand wrapped around mine, warm and gentle. Almost like she was worried of scaring me away. “I promise,” I choked.

I clutched her hand tight, until she faded away. 

“Fuck,” I swore under my breath, holding my clenched fist over my chest. It was a phantom ache, seeping through my bones and releasing poison in my veins. 

A constant reminder of who I was — and what I had done. 

Some sins can’t be forgiven.

And guilt was perhaps my lifetime companion, till death.

Eventually, I must have fallen asleep. Because the next time, when I woke up — I heard a loud crash and then an agitated mumble. Which was definitely not me. I blinked, rubbing the sleep from my eyes and listened closely. 

“I can’t believe I’m doing this. Listening to smut was one thing, but actually recording one?”

Huh? Well, now that was most certainly not my voice.

Goddamn it, I was officially going crazy.

“I’m going to call Brianna and tell her I can’t do this.”

Wait a minute—

The walls were cheap and thin, I knew that. But was it possible that I was hearing my neighbor? The voice was somewhat muffled, but I could still make out the words. 

“No, you know what. I’ll practice for a bit, maybe I should record myself and then make the call.”

There was a moment of silence and then I heard her again, slightly muffled but there was no mistaking the sensuousness in her tone. 

“Suck me. My nipples. I want you to lick and bite me. Make it good. Make it hurt.”

I scrambled into a sitting position. Was my neighbor—

Jesus, I didn’t want to hear that, but she continued. I figured our bedroom was next to each other, with only the thin wall separating us.

“You feel so good inside me.”

I expected another voice to join her, but when I didn’t hear any moans or grunts, I grew curious. Maybe a little suspicious. My neighbor’s voice was sweet and decadently sinful. And damn, was she vocal.

So why was her partner mute? Not that I was judging, but if that was me — I’d be telling her just how good her pussy feels. A bit of dirty talk never did anyone harm.

“You’re so big, I like how you stretch me. Almost painfully, but it’s a sweet burn.”

Well, I am more than awake now. Figuratively speaking. I wasn’t a saint and neither was I celibate. I enjoyed sex; one-night stands specifically. But right now, I couldn’t exactly remember the last time I had sex. It was probably before my last move, so three months ago? Though, my dick was well acquainted with my hand.

When I didn’t hear anyone else speak beside herself, I grew more curious. Kneeling on the mattress, I pressed my ears to the wall and listened more intently. There was no movement from the other side. No squeaky mattress or banging headboard. 

Hmm…

Either she was enjoying her orgasm solo, or —

I remembered what she said before. About recording herself and then making the call. 

Well fuck. Was my neigbour a sex phone operator?

Shit just got interesting.

At least my night wasn’t going to be lonely and boring anymore.