Chapter 37: Photos on the wall...

Blanche approached with her usual confident stride, her face neutral despite the underlying problem in the air. Frankie turned to her the second she was within earshot. “Did you find anything?” she asked, hope flickering briefly in her voice.

Blanche shook her head, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Nothing.” She nodded toward Asher, acknowledging his presence with a small tilt of her head. “Did you find her?”

He nodded once.

Blanche sighed and turned back to Frankie. “Did you check the pool? She said she lost her phone there.”

“That was the first place I looked,” she replied sharply, crossing her arms. “Where else would I have started? It’s where everything happened.”

Frankie nodded, biting her lower lip, her worry was still evident, and Asher saw that. “Let’s call it a night. I’ll drive us home. We can look for the phone tomorrow during the day.”

Frankie hesitated for a moment before nodding, realizing there wasn’t much else they could do tonight. Blanche didn’t wait for further discussion too; she climbed into the car, pulling the door shut behind her. Frankie followed suit, and Asher started the engine, the sound of the vehicle broke into the night as they drove off.

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When they arrived back at the estate, Blanche barely muttered a word before heading straight to her room. Her posture was stiff, and her usual calm seemed strained. It was nearing 1AM, and everyone was exhausted.

Frankie, however, found herself hesitating. Instead of heading to her room, she quietly turned toward Blakely’s. She stood outside the door for a moment, knocking softly. There was no response, but she slowly pushed the door open, peering inside.

The sight of Blakely curled up in bed hit her harder than she expected. She sighed softly, stepping in and shutting the door behind her with a gentle click.

Blakely was lying in the middle of the bed, wrapped tightly in a fetal position. Her hair was messy, and her breathing was uneven, though she seemed to be asleep. Frankie’s chest tightened. She hadn’t known her for long, only a few months, but even she could tell this wasn’t like her. Blakely wasn’t the type to break down easily, to let something like this get to her.

Or maybe Frankie was underestimating just how important that phone was. The thought made her grimace. Hypocritical, really. She’d probably lose her mind if her own phone went missing. Shame or not, her entire life revolved around it.

She sighed again and walked over to the bed. Kneeling at the edge, she reached out hesitantly, her fingers hovering near Blakely’s cheek. But she was too far in the middle of the bed. She frowned, slipping off her shoes and climbing up cautiously, careful not to wake her.

Settling onto the bed, she leaned closer and gently pushed a few strands of Blakely’s hair out of her face. Her fingertips brushed against her cheek. She was soft and warm. She traced her thumb lightly along her skin, a soothing motion she wasn’t entirely sure was meant for Blakely or herself.

Her hand drifted lower, grazing her lips. Frankie froze for a moment, her breath catching as she stared. Her fingers brushed the bottom lip first, then the upper one. Her own lips parted slightly, and before she realized what she was doing, she licked them nervously.

The room felt too quiet, her ragged breathing was loud in her ears. The realization of what she was doing hit her like a bucket of cold water. She pulled her hand back abruptly, her heart racing. Scooting back quickly, she climbed off the bed, her movements hurried and clumsy.

“What am I doing?” she muttered under her breath, running a hand through her hair. Her cheeks burned, and she could feel the heat creeping down her neck.

She grabbed her shoes, clutching them tightly as if they could stop her thoughtsvsomehow, and rushed out of the room. She didn’t stop until she was back in her own, shutting the door behind her and leaning against it with a heavy sigh.

Her thoughts were a jumbled mess, and all she could do was press a hand against her chest, willing her racing heart to calm down.

After a few seconds, she let out a shaky breath as she pushed herself away from the door. She dropped her shoes haphazardly by the door, her bag following with a dull thud as it hit the floor.

Without pausing, she began to undress, peeling off the day’s clothes with slowly. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons of her dress before tugging it off, and she sighed when she finally rid herself of the confining fabric. Next went the bra, leaving her in nothing but her panties. She caught her reflection in the large mirror on her wardrobe door as she reached for her robe.

Her eyes lingered on her reflection. She hadn’t really planned to stop and look at herself, but there she was, staring. Her chest rose and fell steadily, her expression neutral and tense at the same time. Her hair was messy, sticking to the sides of her face, and her eyes looked… tired. Was it just exhaustion, or was it something else?

She shook her head, brushing off the intrusive thoughts, and wrapped the robe around herself before stepping into the bathroom.

The warm, ambient lighting in the bathroom made everything feel softer, calmer, and as much as that was how her bathroom usually is, it made feel hot for a particular reason. She reached for the faucet, letting the water run as she rummaged through her shelves for the rose-scented bath oil. Once she found it, she poured a generous amount into the filling tub, the sweet scent filling the room almost immediately.

Steam began to rise, curling in delicate tendrils toward the ceiling, and Frankie adjusted the temperature until it was just the right level of hot—enough to relax her muscles but not scald her skin. She turned off the tap, the silence that followed feeling heavier than the noise.

With a deep breath, she removed her robe, letting it pool around her feet, her panties followed. She stepped into the tub. The water enveloped her, and she lowered herself until her back rested against the smooth surface.

The warmth seeped into her, and she let out a quiet moan of relief. Her head tilted back slightly, and she closed her eyes for a moment. She reached for the edge of the tub, gripping it lightly, as she sank deeper into the water.

When her eyes opened again, they landed on the wall in front of her. There, carefully arranged in neat frames, were pictures. Pictures of **her**.

*Blakely Torres*.

Those red beautiful lips that say hurtful words. Those amber eyes that looks like they are staring deep into your soul, like they see your darkest thoughts.

*Oh! Blakely.*

She breath in sharply and shut her eyes. Slowly, her hand moved to her thighs and in-between her legs. she gently caress herself, and bit her lips from the pleasure when she couldn't take it any longer, with her lips repeatedly chanting Blakely's name.