Chapter 3
Rio doesn’t dream. She could also say she doesn’t sleep—but who was she lying to? If she had one wish, it would be to never need sleep. She wished for that because there were nights when she struggled with herself just trying to fall asleep. It was one of the few reasons she worked so late, and if that still didn’t tire her brain out, she pushed herself with long runs to tire herself out.
Lying in bed, caught between consciousness and unconsciousness, she felt arms wrapped around her chest, a body pressed close. She accepted it, pulling out her right arm to wrap around the figure while her other hand reached for their head, fingers finding the tied-up hair. Slowly, she loosened the tie before scratching at the roots. The body hummed, tightening around her midsection before relaxing.
She knew her mind was too haywired at this point to be hallucinating. She had finally pushed herself to the limit. So, she let herself believe it, accepting herself that it was just her mind revealing what she truly wanted.
The suite was one of the most sought-after—not only because it had one of the best views, but also because the windows faced north, allowing sunlight to stream in all day. As the morning light filtered through the white curtains, the neighborhood outside was already coming to life, birds chirping loudly near the window.
Agatha sat up abruptly, scowling as she stomped toward the window and aggressively threw the curtains open, startling the birds. They fluttered away in a panic, and she smirked.
"Goddamn right, you birds. I need my beauty sleep," she muttered before retreating back to bed, shivering slightly from the morning chill. At some point during the night or early this morning—she had apparently kicked off her pants.
Pulling the blanket over herself, she shifted back into her original position, trying to get comfortable. Reaching for her pillow, she paused. It was strangely warm. Her hands groped at it, feeling an unusual firmness and heat that didn’t feel like a regular pillow. A second later, something beneath her moved, an arm wrapping around her midsection while another rested on her hip.
Frowning, she realized that last night or early this morning—she hadn’t been drunk enough to sleep with someone. Hell, she was drunk enough to barely remember bits and pieces, and she knew she wouldn’t have gone home with that man. She pushed herself halfway up and moved one of the many pillows aside, revealing a sleeping face beneath it.
A beautiful face, to be exact.
As crazy as it was to fall asleep in bed with a woman, the unsettling familiarity of her face was there. She could later blame it on the alcohol still lingering in her system as her fingers gently traced along the jawline, then up the bridge of the nose. A light twinge stirred in her chest as she used her thumb to brush over one of the eyebrows, following its curve from the center outward.
By the fourth time she brushed over it, the eyes fluttered open to look at her.
“Hi,” the woman said softly.
"Ah, SHIT!" Agatha scrambled back as the arms around her let go. It was an ungraceful disaster as she tumbled off the bed, hitting the ground with a loud thud on her hip.
"Sweetheart, you okay?" The woman peered over the edge of the bed, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.
"Oh, safe as a kitten," Agatha spoke a high pitched tone as she carefully stood up, rubbing the sore spot on her hip where she had landed. She wasn't some youthful twenty-something anymore. She also really shouldn’t be doing this kind of thing at her age.
Quickly standing up, she put on a bright, disarming smile. "Hi, dear, don’t mind me," she said, shifting her voice into a peppy tone. "Oh, I do apologize! I must've opened the wrong door last night. You know how late-night drinking and being new in the city can be!" She laughed, keeping the smile in place while subtly looking around for her missing pants.
She had screwed herself over. This wasn’t some random Airbnb. It was just a woman with no taste or imagination living in what looked like an apartment showroom finally seeing what the room looked like in the light.
The woman simply watched her, or rather, took her in, her gaze unreadable. Agatha, meanwhile, was still trying to locate her pants, finally spotting them on the other side of the bed at the bottom.
"I don't get a lot of visitors, especially at night," the woman remarked, still observing her like a caged mouse trying to break free.
Agatha tugged her pants back on. "The door was unlocked. You should be more careful. You don’t want some serial killer breaking in, do you?"
The woman didn’t look worried. In fact, she seemed more amused than anything.
Agatha’s smile faltered for a split second.
Yeah. This woman wasn’t worried about serial killers. Why? Because she probably was one herself. She was acting too casual for someone who had a trespasser in their home. She was probably planning one of many ways to kill her right now, with that smile on her face. That familiar smile that she needed to not think about.
“I also don’t usually wake up to strangers in my bed.” The woman stepped out from under the covers and held out her hand. "I’m Rio."
A serial killer with a hell of a body, toned and just on the edge of too skinny. The gray tank top wasn’t doing much to hide those arms, and the short boxers weren’t concealing those legs either.
Yeah, that’s probably how she got them. Luring them in with that body. And not how Agatha had voluntarily barged her way into a serial killer’s home.
Not that Agatha had much room to judge, considering she had voluntarily barged her way into the serial killer’s home. She was not sober enough for this.
Still, she took the offered hand, shaking it. "And I’m Agnes. Your neighbor. From… the top… or bottom floor." Agatha laughed trying to loosen the atmosphere.
Rio continued to stare at her as if trying to figure her out, until her stomach made an announcement.
Clasping her hands together, she plastered on her biggest smile and took a step backward toward the door, thinking of an escape plan. "Someone’s hungry. Why don’t I make you something while you get ready for the day? That way, I can make it up to you!"
She hurried toward the kitchen, hoping the distraction would work.
But luck wasn’t on her side.
Instead of staying behind, Rio followed her, leaning onto the island as Agatha rummaged through the fridge for something to make. The whole place was lacking in a lot of things, and the fridge didn’t disappoint—food was one of them. There was barely anything to make for a dinner meal.
She found just enough ingredients to make pancakes but noticed no syrup.
“You don’t happen to have syrup and a pan, do you, dear?” she asked, peeking out from the fridge.
Rio pointed to the bottom of the fridge, then a cabinet.
“Ahh, thank you.” Agatha pulled out everything required to make pancakes but noticed the pan was barely used, as if it were new.
She started cooking, filling the silence with a story about her night and the man who had been cocky enough to think he could have gotten lucky. Rio simply watched, nodding along.
“So I asked him, does this ever work on girls and he was so drunk he told me it he would be lucky if it ever does” Agatha laughed.
Rio, aka the serial killer was nodding along and hummed along with her who moved to an island seat to sit down.
Simultaneously, Agatha was planning her escape without detecting the serial killer.
As Agatha placed a pancake on Rio’s plate, the woman didn’t hesitate to take a bite before drowning it in syrup and devouring it.
“Dis ees soo gooff” she mumbled between bites.
Agatha watched in horror as the so-called serial killer kept eating. She kept making more before finally grabbing two for herself. If she was going to die here, she might as well go out with a full stomach.
“Usually, when someone wakes up to a stranger in their bed, they’d be freaking out. Like, ‘Hey, there’s a murderer in my home,’” Agatha mused as she kept eating.
Rio just smiled at her, taking her last bite. “They would—but who’s to say that murderer actually entered a serial killer’s home?”
Agatha stopped mid-bite, staring at her. Agatha has now officially confirmed she’s in a serial killer’s den as she stop mid way and looked up.
What changed her mind was she saw syrup covering the surrounding lips. Yeah, what the hell was she thinking? This woman was probably living a dull life and was entertained by her crashing this life.
Then Rio laughed, she said, “I’m joking.” She stood up to put her plate in the sink before heading to grab her sweater from the bedroom. “Besides, you’d be dead by now if I were.” She started yelling, then lowered her voice as she returned to the kitchen, only to find no one there except for a half-eaten pancake. Then, she heard the quiet thud of the front door closing.”