{"id":4033,"date":"2026-05-30T09:12:04","date_gmt":"2026-05-30T09:12:04","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/redditlovers.live\/?p=4033"},"modified":"2026-05-30T09:12:04","modified_gmt":"2026-05-30T09:12:04","slug":"part10-my-neighbor-screamed-at-me-that-shouting-could-be-heard-from-my-house-every-day-but-i-lived-alone-and-worked-from-eight-to-six-the-next-day-i-pretended-to-leave-hid-under-the-bed-and-list","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/redditlovers.live\/?p=4033","title":{"rendered":"PART10: My neighbor screamed at me that shouting could be heard from my house every day, but I lived alone and worked from eight to six. The next day, I pretended to leave, hid under the bed, and listened as someone entered, walking as if she owned my life. I closed my eyes to keep from breathing. My bedroom door opened. And the voice that came from the speaker made my blood run cold."},"content":{"rendered":"
\n
\n
\n

PART 41 \u2014 THE FIRST LIE
\nNobody in the conference room wanted to answer me.
\nThat was how I knew the truth would destroy whatever remained of my past.
\nRain tapped softly against the federal office windows while Hale\u2019s files lay spread across the table like pieces of a manufactured life.
\nI asked again.
\nQuieter this time.
\n\u2014Did Mark know from the beginning?
\nDaniel closed his eyes briefly.
\nDetective Alvarez looked away.
\nAnd finally\u2026
\nDaniel nodded once.
\nThe world didn\u2019t shatter dramatically.
\nNo screaming.
\nNo collapse.
\nJust a slow, unbearable emptiness spreading through my chest.
\nBecause suddenly every memory became unstable.
\nOur first date.
\nThe bookstore.
\nThe way he remembered tiny details about me.
\nThe flowers after bad workdays.
\nThe proposal.
\nThe wedding.
\nHad any of it belonged to me?
\nOr had I simply been living inside a performance so long that I mistook it for love?<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n

Daniel spoke carefully.
\n\u2014At first, yes.
\nI stared at the table silently.
\nHe continued anyway.
\n\u2014Operators received psychological profiles before contact assignments. Hale believed compatibility increased emotional dependency rates.
\nCompatibility rates.
\nLike love was software.
\nMrs. Cecilia would have thrown a chair through the window hearing this conversation.
\nMy fingers tightened around the photograph from the caf\u00e9.
\nTwenty-nine years old.
\nAlone.
\nUnaware.
\nTarget acquired before I even knew a game existed.
\nI swallowed hard.
\n\u2014So when he approached me in the bookstore\u2026
\nDaniel nodded once.
\n\u2014It was planned.
\nThe memory replayed instantly in my head.
\nCoffee spilling across my sleeve.
\nMark apologizing awkwardly.
\nThat crooked smile.
\nThe nervous laugh.
\nI had told that story at parties for years.
\nOur funny little accident.
\nNow it felt like evidence from a crime scene.<\/p>\n

Detective Alvarez finally stepped closer.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n

\u2014Laura, listen to me carefully.<\/p>\n

But I couldn\u2019t stop.<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n

I kept turning pages.<\/p>\n

Every page another violation.<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n

Notes about my grief after my father died.<\/p>\n

Notes about my loneliness.<\/p>\n

My trust patterns.<\/p>\n

My emotional history.<\/p>\n

My need to feel chosen.<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

Observed.<\/p>\n

Measured.<\/p>\n

Weaponized.<\/p>\n

Then I found a page labeled:
\nSUBJECT RESPONSE FORECAST.<\/p>\n

Underneath:<\/p>\n

\u201cStrong likelihood of permanent emotional attachment if operator maintains protector role.\u201d<\/p>\n

I laughed once.<\/p>\n

Broken.<\/p>\n

Of course.<\/p>\n

Mark always made me feel safe.<\/p>\n

That was the design.<\/p>\n

\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501<\/p>\n

Then suddenly\u2014<\/p>\n

Another document slipped loose from the file.<\/p>\n

Different handwriting.<\/p>\n

Not Hale\u2019s.<\/p>\n

Mark\u2019s.<\/p>\n

My pulse stopped instantly.<\/p>\n

The paper looked older than the others.<\/p>\n

Creased heavily.<\/p>\n

Folded and unfolded many times.<\/p>\n

At the top, handwritten:<\/p>\n

PRIVATE \u2014 NOT FOR REVIEW<\/p>\n

Daniel frowned immediately.<\/p>\n

\u2014I\u2019ve never seen that file.<\/p>\n

Neither had Alvarez.<\/p>\n

My hands shook opening it.<\/p>\n

And suddenly\u2026<\/p>\n

I was reading Mark\u2019s real thoughts for the first time.<\/p>\n

\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501<\/p>\n

\u201cShe isn\u2019t responding the way the models predicted.\u201d<\/p>\n

The room disappeared around me.<\/p>\n

Only his handwriting remained.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe notices details nobody else notices. She asks if I\u2019m tired when I lie well enough to fool trained evaluators.\u201d<\/p>\n

My breathing became uneven.<\/p>\n

More lines.<\/p>\n

Messier now.<\/p>\n

Less professional.<\/p>\n

\u201cI know Hale monitors these reports, but I need to say this somewhere: I don\u2019t think I can continue viewing her as an assignment.\u201d<\/p>\n

My vision blurred instantly.<\/p>\n

Daniel looked stunned beside me.<\/p>\n

I kept reading.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhen Laura laughs, the entire room changes temperature. I don\u2019t know how else to explain it.\u201d<\/p>\n

A tear slid silently down my face.<\/p>\n

Not because it fixed anything.<\/p>\n

Because it made everything more tragic.<\/p>\n

\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501<\/p>\n

The final page looked different from the others.<\/p>\n

Wrinkled.<\/p>\n

Water-damaged.<\/p>\n

Written much later.<\/p>\n

Probably shortly before Mark\u2019s staged death.<\/p>\n

The handwriting shook badly across the page.<\/p>\n

\u201cHale says attachment is contamination. Maybe he\u2019s right. Because every time I look at her now, I want a life that isn\u2019t built from lies.\u201d<\/p>\n

My chest physically hurt.<\/p>\n

The next sentence nearly destroyed me.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe still thinks I saved her. She doesn\u2019t understand I was the first thing she needed saving from.\u201d<\/p>\n

Silence swallowed the conference room.<\/p>\n

Even the analysts stopped typing.<\/p>\n

No one looked at me.<\/p>\n

Maybe because grief that deep feels private even in public.<\/p>\n

\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501<\/p>\n

At the bottom of the last page, Mark had written one final sentence.<\/p>\n

Small.<\/p>\n

Uneven.<\/p>\n

Almost impossible to read.<\/p>\n

\u201cIf I disappear, tell Laura at least one thing was real.\u201d<\/p>\n

The room blurred completely through tears.<\/p>\n

Because after everything\u2026<\/p>\n

After all the manipulation and horror and death\u2026<\/p>\n

The cruelest truth remained the same:<\/p>\n

He loved me.<\/p>\n

And he ruined me anyway.<\/p>\n

PART 42 \u2014 THE THINGS THAT WERE REAL<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t go home after leaving the federal office.<\/p>\n

I drove for nearly two hours without direction while rain drifted softly across the Connecticut roads like the sky itself couldn\u2019t decide whether to storm or clear.<\/p>\n

Mark\u2019s handwritten pages sat on the passenger seat beside me.<\/p>\n

I kept glancing at them at red lights.<\/p>\n

Like they might change if I looked long enough.<\/p>\n

Like maybe there was another ending hidden between the lines.<\/p>\n

\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501<\/p>\n

By evening, I found myself parked outside the old bookstore caf\u00e9 where we met.<\/p>\n

Or where he was sent to meet me.<\/p>\n

The place looked exactly the same.<\/p>\n

Warm yellow lights.<\/p>\n

Fogged windows.<\/p>\n

People inside drinking coffee and laughing quietly while ordinary life continued untouched by monsters.<\/p>\n

I almost drove away.<\/p>\n

Instead, I went inside.<\/p>\n

\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501<\/p>\n

The bell above the door chimed softly.<\/p>\n

The smell hit me first.<\/p>\n

Coffee.<\/p>\n

Old paper.<\/p>\n

Cinnamon pastries.<\/p>\n

Memory itself.<\/p>\n

I stood frozen near the entrance while rainwater dripped from my coat.<\/p>\n

Seven years earlier, I had stood in almost the exact same spot checking emails before work when Mark spilled coffee on my sleeve and apologized with that crooked nervous smile.<\/p>\n

Planned.<\/p>\n

Every second planned.<\/p>\n

And yet\u2026<\/p>\n

I remembered how genuinely embarrassed he looked afterward.<\/p>\n

How he kept buying me replacement drinks because he felt bad.<\/p>\n

How he laughed too hard at my jokes.<\/p>\n

How he watched me like someone trying to memorize warmth before winter.<\/p>\n

The confusion inside my chest became unbearable again.<\/p>\n

\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501<\/p>\n

I sat at the same table near the back window.<\/p>\n

The same one from the photograph in Hale\u2019s file.<\/p>\n

Excellent attachment profile.<\/p>\n

Ideal candidate.<\/p>\n

I almost laughed from the cruelty of it.<\/p>\n

The waitress approached.<\/p>\n

\u2014What can I get you?<\/p>\n

I stared at the menu without reading it.<\/p>\n

Then quietly:<\/p>\n

\u2014Hot chocolate.<\/p>\n

Because that was what Mark ordered for me the first night we stayed there talking until closing time.<\/p>\n

\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501<\/p>\n

Outside, headlights moved through rain-slick streets while soft music played overhead.<\/p>\n

Normal people passed the windows carrying umbrellas.<\/p>\n

Living ordinary lives.<\/p>\n

And suddenly I envied them more than anything.<\/p>\n

Not because they were happy.<\/p>\n

Because they were untouched.<\/p>\n

\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501<\/p>\n

I pulled Mark\u2019s handwritten pages from my bag again slowly.<\/p>\n

The ink had smeared slightly in places from my tears earlier.<\/p>\n

My eyes stopped on one sentence:<\/p>\n

\u201cWhen Laura laughs, the entire room changes temperature.\u201d<\/p>\n

I covered my mouth immediately.<\/p>\n

Because I remembered the exact night he wrote that.<\/p>\n

Not specifically.<\/p>\n

But emotionally.<\/p>\n

We were in our first apartment.<\/p>\n

The tiny awful one with leaking pipes and terrible heating.<\/p>\n

The power went out during winter, so we sat on the kitchen floor wrapped in blankets eating melted ice cream before it spoiled.<\/p>\n

I laughed because Mark tried warming his hands over a candle and nearly set a dish towel on fire.<\/p>\n

He laughed too.<\/p>\n

Harder than I\u2019d ever seen before.<\/p>\n

Not pretending.<\/p>\n

Not performing.<\/p>\n

Real.<\/p>\n

\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501<\/p>\n

And that was what hurt most.<\/p>\n

Not that everything was fake.<\/p>\n

That some of it wasn\u2019t.<\/p>\n

If every moment had been manipulation, maybe I could hate him cleanly.<\/p>\n

Instead, love grew inside a lie until neither could be separated anymore.<\/p>\n

\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501<\/p>\n

Someone suddenly sat across from me.<\/p>\n

I looked up instantly.<\/p>\n

Mrs. Cecilia.<\/p>\n

Of course.<\/p>\n

She removed her wet coat with the expression of a woman arriving to supervise emotional stupidity.<\/p>\n

\u2014I knew you\u2019d come here eventually.<\/p>\n

I almost smiled weakly.<\/p>\n

\u2014Did Detective Alvarez tell you?<\/p>\n

\u2014No. You\u2019re predictable when sad.<\/p>\n

Honestly insulting.<\/p>\n

Comfortingly insulting.<\/p>\n

\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501<\/p>\n

The waitress brought my hot chocolate.<\/p>\n

Mrs. Cecilia immediately stole one of the marshmallows.<\/p>\n

\u2014So.<\/p>\n

She crossed her arms.<\/p>\n

\u2014You found out the romance was organized by psychopaths.<\/p>\n

I stared at her.<\/p>\n

Only Mrs. Cecilia could summarize my emotional collapse like neighborhood gossip.<\/p>\n

Tears burned unexpectedly behind my eyes again.<\/p>\n

\u2014I don\u2019t know what was real anymore.<\/p>\n

For once\u2026<\/p>\n

Mrs. Cecilia answered gently.<\/p>\n

\u2014That\u2019s not true.<\/p>\n

I looked up.<\/p>\n

She pointed toward the pages in my hands.<\/p>\n

\u2014That man crossed lines he wasn\u2019t supposed to cross.<\/p>\n

I swallowed hard.<\/p>\n

\u2014He still destroyed me.<\/p>\n

\u2014Yes.<\/p>\n

No hesitation.<\/p>\n

No sugarcoating.<\/p>\n

Just truth.<\/p>\n

Then she leaned forward slightly.<\/p>\n

\u2014But evil people don\u2019t usually ruin entire criminal operations because they accidentally care too much.<\/p>\n

Silence settled between us.<\/p>\n

Soft.<\/p>\n

Heavy.<\/p>\n

Real.<\/p>\n

\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501<\/p>\n

Mrs. Cecilia stirred her coffee slowly.<\/p>\n

\u2014Child\u2026 terrible people can still love someone. That doesn\u2019t erase the terrible things.<\/p>\n

I looked down at the pages again.<\/p>\n

\u2014Then what am I supposed to do with all of this?<\/p>\n

She snorted quietly.<\/p>\n

\u2014Same thing the rest of us do with grief.<\/p>\n

I frowned slightly.<\/p>\n

\u2014And what\u2019s that?<\/p>\n

Mrs. Cecilia popped the stolen marshmallow into her mouth.<\/p>\n

\u2014Carry it until it becomes lighter.<\/p>\n

Simple.<\/p>\n

Not poetic.<\/p>\n

Not magical.<\/p>\n

But somehow exactly what I needed.<\/p>\n

\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501<\/p>\n

When we finally left the caf\u00e9 later that night, the rain had stopped completely.<\/p>\n

The streets glistened beneath streetlights.<\/p>\n

Fresh.<\/p>\n

Quiet.<\/p>\n

Alive.<\/p>\n

I stood outside the bookstore for a long moment staring through the windows at the table where my life changed.<\/p>\n

Maybe manipulated beginnings could still create real feelings.<\/p>\n

Maybe love born inside lies still leaves real scars.<\/p>\n

Maybe both things could exist at once.<\/p>\n

I still didn\u2019t know.<\/p>\n

But for the first time since learning the truth\u2026<\/p>\n

I stopped needing a clean answer.<\/p>\n

And somehow\u2026<\/p>\n

That felt like the beginning of healing.<\/p>\n

PART 43 \u2014 THE LETTER MARK NEVER SENT<\/p>\n

A week later, Detective Alvarez called me again.<\/p>\n

This time her voice sounded different.<\/p>\n

Not urgent.<\/p>\n

Not frightened.<\/p>\n

Careful.<\/p>\n

That somehow worried me more.<\/p>\n

\u2014We found something in one of Hale\u2019s private storage units.<\/p>\n

I leaned against my kitchen counter slowly.<\/p>\n

Outside, afternoon sunlight warmed the small garden behind my new house. For once, there were no storms.<\/p>\n

\u2014What kind of something?<\/p>\n

A pause.<\/p>\n

Then quietly:<\/p>\n

\u2014A letter addressed to you.<\/p>\n

My stomach tightened instantly.<\/p>\n

I already knew before she said the name.<\/p>\n

\u2014Mark?<\/p>\n

\u2014Yes.<\/p>\n

\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501<\/p>\n

The storage unit sat outside New Haven in a quiet industrial district surrounded by warehouses and shipping containers.<\/p>\n

Completely ordinary.<\/p>\n

That seemed to be the pattern with evil.<\/p>\n

It hides inside normal-looking places.<\/p>\n

Detective Alvarez met me outside beside two federal agents guarding the open unit door.<\/p>\n

Inside were shelves filled with evidence boxes recovered from Hale\u2019s operation.<\/p>\n

Documents.<\/p>\n

Photographs.<\/p>\n

Hard drives.<\/p>\n

Entire lives archived like inventory.<\/p>\n

But on a small metal desk near the back wall sat a single sealed envelope.<\/p>\n

LAURA<\/p>\n

Written in Mark\u2019s handwriting.<\/p>\n

\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501<\/p>\n

My hands trembled before I even touched it.<\/p>\n

Detective Alvarez stayed near the doorway respectfully.<\/p>\n

Giving me space.<\/p>\n

The envelope looked worn at the edges, like someone carried it for a long time without deciding whether to send it.<\/p>\n

I opened it slowly.<\/p>\n

And suddenly\u2026<\/p>\n

Mark\u2019s voice existed again between the lines.<\/p>\n

\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501<\/p>\n

\u201cLaura,<\/p>\n

If you\u2019re reading this, then one of two things happened.<\/p>\n

Either Hale finally lost control of the operation\u2026<\/p>\n

Or I lost control of myself.\u201d<\/p>\n

I closed my eyes briefly.<\/p>\n

Even now, he sounded like a man standing between love and disaster.<\/p>\n

\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501<\/p>\n

\u201cI used to think Hale understood people better than anyone alive.<\/p>\n

He said loneliness makes human beings programmable.<\/p>\n

Most of the time he was right.\u201d<\/p>\n

My throat tightened.<\/p>\n

The warehouse around me faded quietly while I kept reading.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe taught us how to mirror affection. How to become exactly what someone needed emotionally. How to make trust feel inevitable.\u201d<\/p>\n

Tears blurred the page instantly.<\/p>\n

Because that was exactly what Mark had done to me.<\/p>\n

\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501<\/p>\n

Then the handwriting changed slightly.<\/p>\n

Less controlled.<\/p>\n

More human.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut he never warned us what happens if pretending stops feeling fake.\u201d<\/p>\n

My chest hurt.<\/p>\n

Badly.<\/p>\n

The next lines looked shakier.<\/p>\n

\u201cI know someday you\u2019ll discover how we met wasn\u2019t an accident. Hale always said the beginning matters less than the result.\u201d<\/p>\n

A tear slipped down my face.<\/p>\n

\u201cI disagree.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501<\/p>\n

I sat down slowly on the metal chair beside the desk because my legs no longer felt stable.<\/p>\n

The warehouse smelled like dust, cardboard, and old secrets.<\/p>\n

Mark\u2019s words kept unraveling me quietly.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe first moment I saw you inside that bookstore caf\u00e9, you smiled at a stranger who looked embarrassed for dropping an entire muffin tray. Nobody else even noticed him.\u201d<\/p>\n

I remembered that.<\/p>\n

God.<\/p>\n

I actually remembered that.<\/p>\n

The poor college kid dropping pastries everywhere while people stared impatiently.<\/p>\n

I helped him clean it up.<\/p>\n

Mark had been watching already.<\/p>\n

\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501<\/p>\n

\u201cYou looked at people like they mattered even when nobody was rewarding you for it.\u201d<\/p>\n

My vision blurred again.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd that terrified me.\u201d<\/p>\n

I pressed the paper harder between my fingers.<\/p>\n

Because suddenly I understood.<\/p>\n

Not why Mark manipulated me.<\/p>\n

Why he stayed.<\/p>\n

\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501<\/p>\n

\u201cI spent years learning how to imitate love convincingly.<\/p>\n

Then I met someone who practiced it naturally.\u201d<\/p>\n

I covered my mouth immediately.<\/p>\n

The warehouse became painfully quiet around me.<\/p>\n

Even Detective Alvarez looked away toward the door now.<\/p>\n

Like this grief deserved privacy.<\/p>\n

\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501<\/p>\n

The final page hurt worst of all.<\/p>\n

\u201cIf Hale had chosen anyone colder, smarter, less kind\u2026 maybe I would\u2019ve stayed loyal to the operation.\u201d<\/p>\n

The handwriting shook badly here.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut you kept making me want impossible things.\u201d<\/p>\n

A normal life.<\/p>\n

A kitchen.<\/p>\n

Rain on windows.<\/p>\n

Safety.<\/p>\n

Things men like Mark were never built to keep.<\/p>\n

\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501<\/p>\n

Near the bottom of the page, the ink smeared heavily like he\u2019d stopped writing several times.<\/p>\n

Then came the sentence that finally broke me.<\/p>\n

\u201cI think part of me loved you from the assignment.<\/p>\n

But the rest of me loved you enough to ruin the assignment entirely.\u201d<\/p>\n

I cried then.<\/p>\n

Not loudly.<\/p>\n

Not dramatically.<\/p>\n

Just quietly enough to hear years ending inside me.<\/p>\n

\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501<\/p>\n

The last paragraph was short.<\/p>\n

Almost unfinished.<\/p>\n

\u201cIf there\u2019s anything good left from all this, I hope it\u2019s this:<\/p>\n

You were never weak for loving me.<\/p>\n

I was weak for weaponizing it.\u201d<\/p>\n

And beneath that\u2014<\/p>\n

Nothing.<\/p>\n

No goodbye.<\/p>\n

No signature.<\/p>\n

Just one final handwritten line squeezed crookedly into the bottom corner of the page:<\/p>\n

\u201cPlease survive me completely.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501<\/p>\n

I stayed inside that warehouse for a long time after finishing the letter.<\/p>\n

Not because I still belonged to Mark.<\/p>\n

Not because I forgave him.<\/p>\n

Because healing sometimes means sitting quietly beside the truth until it stops feeling like a knife.<\/p>\n

Outside, evening sunlight stretched long across the pavement.<\/p>\n

Warm.<\/p>\n

Ordinary.<\/p>\n

Alive.<\/p>\n

And for the first time since this nightmare began\u2026<\/p>\n

I folded Mark\u2019s letter carefully without feeling haunted by it.<\/p>\n

Not because the pain disappeared.<\/p>\n

Because it finally felt finished\u2026\u2026.<\/p>\n

Continue Read next>>> PART11(END): My neighbor screamed at me that shouting could be heard from my house every day, but I lived alone and worked from eight to six. The next day, I pretended to leave, hid under the bed, and listened as someone entered, walking as if she owned my life. I closed my eyes to keep from breathing. My bedroom door opened. And the voice that came from the speaker made my blood run cold<\/a><\/h1>\n<\/div>\n<\/article>\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

PART 41 \u2014 THE FIRST LIE Nobody in the conference room wanted to answer me. That was how I knew the truth would destroy whatever remained of my past. Rain … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-4033","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-reddit-story"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/redditlovers.live\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4033","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/redditlovers.live\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/redditlovers.live\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/redditlovers.live\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/redditlovers.live\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=4033"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/redditlovers.live\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4033\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":4037,"href":"https:\/\/redditlovers.live\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4033\/revisions\/4037"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/redditlovers.live\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=4033"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/redditlovers.live\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=4033"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/redditlovers.live\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=4033"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}