MY BODY IS LEFT STILL on Derek's floor. Leg pain getting worse and worse as my other leg is draped across it, I've been sitting for a while. I unwrap myself and get up. Shit, this hurts.

'I'll just come looking for you.'

I make my way over to his liquor cabinet and take a gulp from one of his shot glasses he already had poured for me. I pour more and more shots until I start to feel dizzy, it still doesn't make me feel better.

"Fuck!" I scream, instantly covering my mouth. I probably just need to sleep, It's already 2 am.

Or, an even better idea: get the fuck out of here. He's probably passed out. Drunk as fuck, won't remember shit for a while. He can't actually find me, he was just trying to scare me. Right? I don't have a phone to be tracked on. Holy shit did he put a tracker on me while I was passed out?!

I've never really freaked out before but I think right now might be my first. Alright, I need a plan. End goal: leave this mess you put yourself in. First, I need to figure out if this asshole could actually find me.

I start by searching all the rooms I have access to. The bathrooms, gym room, pool room, but there's nothing unusual. Except the amount of rooms this guy gets to have. I decide there's only one place left to look

The bedroom.

I have a couple bobby pins, a maxed out debit card that does no good to me, I bet they'll work just fine. The search for a bobby pin takes a while, but once I have one in my grip I'm right up against his door twisting that shit like my life depended on it. Huh, funny I always said that saying for laughs but now it might actually be true. That makes my stomach ache so I start back with the doorknob. No time for stopping.

Nothing's fucking working so next thing I know the bobby pin is ripped in half on the other side of the room. I move onto the debit card, not sure why I didn't start with that considering it looks way easier, then my poor bobby pin could've been spared. I slide the card up and down a couple times until I hear a click. Oh my god. I feel the card slip through the crack with no hesitation. My finger does the job, pushing but ever so slightly so there's no creaks. I wanna pee when I catch his head about a foot away from my head, mouth open just a bit with tiny snores. Who puts a bed by the damn door?!

I wish he was a grown man who had deafening snores that made your ears bleed. Like, you can't make this a little easier for me?

After what feels like forever, I finally get the door open all the way. His room is nowhere near a mess. It's spotless, cleaner than any room I've ever owned. Which doesn't actually say much, but my mom and sister? Definition of clean freaks. This is above that. You might think I'm being dramatic, but he's got nothing.

Picture this: perfectly painted white wall, television perfectly centered in front of his weirdly placed bed (I'm taking away points for that one), black night stand with no stains, no cup rings, no clutter, nothing. Just a little lamp and an electronic clock. I tip toe into the bathroom, and it looks just like the guest bathroom. Perfect. Nothing's un-stocked. It's like I walked into a fresh hotel suite. A really, really, nice one. He doesn't have anything personal though. No pictures of him and family, no decor other than a plant in his bathroom and a big picture of a city above his headboard.

Once I'm done admiring the room, I'm at a loss for what I'm looking for. I mean, there's nothing here to look into. I start in his closet. It's a walk-in, obviously, so there might be some hidden stuff in here. To start off, there's barely any clothes in here. I dig through the little bit of clothes he does have, looking behind, looking under, looking behind some shoes. I find some shoe boxes though. Empty. Okay, just collecting in case he ever has anything interesting to hide.

I get to the bottom box and find a couple of pictures. Thank God. There's only a few. Him sitting on a couch with a girl, I'm guessing to be his wife. The next picture of a little boy, looks about two years old. He said he had a son but I guess his wife took him with. I'm really hoping this isn't one of the last pictures he'd gotten of him.

At least we know he's got a little heart in that body of his.

"Hey!" I've never turned so fast in my life. My breathing ceases, but my heart is the only thing in this room that you can hear. It's going 100 miles a minute.

I try to scream but my hand helps me stop. I walk out of the closet ready to fake cry and give the best apology in the world, but when my eyes meet Derek, he doesn't have an angry look on his face. He doesn't jump out of his bed, there's no yelling. He's simply turned to the other side of the bed. My breath can finally be let go but my confusion is still present. I creep to the side of the bed he's crawled over to and see his eyes shut, with his mouth still open. No snores. C'mon snores, c'mon.

Well, I guess we have a sleep talker, which really doesn't make this situation any easier.

I make a 180 turn with my back to Derek, and my face to the TV. The stand to the TV is quite large, it's got three shelves on each side with doors to cover up his personals. Underneath the TV it has two drawers. I open the right door first to see a shit load of movies discs. The left one has a couple random things, a collection of the same Bible testimony on the top shelf, the second shelf with a copy of only The Shining, with the disc taken out. Alright. Third shelf has some paper work for a car he seemed to have purchased. It wasn't a BMW, instead a Jeep Cherokee.

The top drawer below is filled with socks. Odd considering he doesn't have a necessarily small dresser to the right of me, but I'll keep my mind open. Under the socks is a picture of his wife, him and the Jeep Cherokee. How sweet. Right next to that, there's the keys. I've seen everywhere around his house, but I haven't seen this Jeep. Why keep the keys if you got rid of the car? I take the keys in my pocket. I'm not sure why.

The drawer underneath is filled with some underwear. A lot actually. I need to look at what the hell he actually has in his dresser. Under all the jumbled up underwear, there's a DVD; I feel three of them actually. I pick up the first one. It doesn't seem to be a movie, but maybe a home video. The top simply says 'Monica.' Maybe that's his wife's name. The next one says 'Jessie,' and the third one says 'Cassie.' I'm confused yet dying to see what's on these, but I can't play them in here and I don't think I can fit all three of them in my pocket. I take the Monica video tape and shove the other two back in the drawer. I stuff it under my shirt and run out of the room. I shut the door but not all the way, so he doesn't hear the click. I throw the Jeep keys under all my duffel bag junk so he'll never see it, and I put the DVD in. 

***

hi guys! 

what do we think is on the tape? is it bad, or is she overthinking it?! who can tell anymore! 

have a good one, and vote if you'd like!