My Landlord’s Hidden Camera in Our Bathroom - Chapter 5: Chapter 5
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Time became meaningless. When I finally pried my shaking hands away, Vincent Lowell had been motionless beneath me for what felt like eternity.
I loosened the shower curtain just enough to reveal his face—pale as death, every drop of color leached from his skin. His eyes were frozen wide, a mute testament to his final, terrified moments.
Leaning in close, my lips brushed his ear as I whispered, "You were right." My fingers trailed over his icy forehead. "I've been waiting for this."
A slow, venomous smile curled my lips.
"I always knew about the cameras."
My voice dropped to a hiss.
"You disgusting pig."
That night, as I rummaged through the drawer looking for scissors, my fingers brushed against something unexpected—a diary.
It wasn't mine. It belonged to the girl who lived here before me.
Page after page, she detailed how Vincent Lowell had lured her in with the promise of cheap rent, only to trap her like prey. Her words were raw, each sentence trembling with fear and rage.
Then, on the very last page, a warning:
"If you're reading this, run. He put cameras in the bathroom. Go to the cops, and he'll leak the footage. He's not just a creep—he's a monster."
I snapped the diary shut, my hands shaking.
Vincent Lowell wasn't just a bastard. He was the kind of man who deserved to rot.
And I was going to make sure he did.
I knew his pattern. The bathroom was his hunting ground—those cameras weren't just for watching. They were souvenirs.
So while he was gone, I got to work.
The shower curtain hooks? I loosened them just enough. One good yank, and the whole thing would come crashing down.
Then I picked up a fruit knife on my way home. Just in case.
Everything was set. Now, all I had to do was wait for him to make his move.
What I didn't expect? Him lurking under my bed like some kind of horror movie villain.
But in the end, it didn't matter.
The camera in the corner caught everything.
The raw despair in Lucas Roland's eyes was infinitely more authentic than my carefully crafted performance.
"Don't worry," I murmured, voice steady. "I'll be fine. This was textbook self-defense."
As the words left my lips, the last flicker of light drained from his gaze. His head lolled to the side, limp.
I let my face twist into horror—just for show—and fumbled for my phone.
The curtain hadn't fallen yet. I couldn't slip up now.
The police would take care of the rest. To them, I'd be the perfect victim—shaken, traumatized, blameless.
But the moment I pushed to my feet, the room tilted violently. A wave of nausea rolled through me, my legs buckling beneath my own weight.
What the hell?
Then it hit me.
The glass of water on my nightstand—the one I'd left untouched after coming home.
Lucas had drugged it.
If I hadn't woken up when I did, the sedatives would've kicked in fully by now. He would've won.
Guess justice had the last laugh after all.
My vision swam, darkness creeping in at the edges. As my knees gave out, I cast one final glance at Lucas's lifeless body—and let a cold, satisfied smirk curl my lips before everything went black.
I loosened the shower curtain just enough to reveal his face—pale as death, every drop of color leached from his skin. His eyes were frozen wide, a mute testament to his final, terrified moments.
Leaning in close, my lips brushed his ear as I whispered, "You were right." My fingers trailed over his icy forehead. "I've been waiting for this."
A slow, venomous smile curled my lips.
"I always knew about the cameras."
My voice dropped to a hiss.
"You disgusting pig."
That night, as I rummaged through the drawer looking for scissors, my fingers brushed against something unexpected—a diary.
It wasn't mine. It belonged to the girl who lived here before me.
Page after page, she detailed how Vincent Lowell had lured her in with the promise of cheap rent, only to trap her like prey. Her words were raw, each sentence trembling with fear and rage.
Then, on the very last page, a warning:
"If you're reading this, run. He put cameras in the bathroom. Go to the cops, and he'll leak the footage. He's not just a creep—he's a monster."
I snapped the diary shut, my hands shaking.
Vincent Lowell wasn't just a bastard. He was the kind of man who deserved to rot.
And I was going to make sure he did.
I knew his pattern. The bathroom was his hunting ground—those cameras weren't just for watching. They were souvenirs.
So while he was gone, I got to work.
The shower curtain hooks? I loosened them just enough. One good yank, and the whole thing would come crashing down.
Then I picked up a fruit knife on my way home. Just in case.
Everything was set. Now, all I had to do was wait for him to make his move.
What I didn't expect? Him lurking under my bed like some kind of horror movie villain.
But in the end, it didn't matter.
The camera in the corner caught everything.
The raw despair in Lucas Roland's eyes was infinitely more authentic than my carefully crafted performance.
"Don't worry," I murmured, voice steady. "I'll be fine. This was textbook self-defense."
As the words left my lips, the last flicker of light drained from his gaze. His head lolled to the side, limp.
I let my face twist into horror—just for show—and fumbled for my phone.
The curtain hadn't fallen yet. I couldn't slip up now.
The police would take care of the rest. To them, I'd be the perfect victim—shaken, traumatized, blameless.
But the moment I pushed to my feet, the room tilted violently. A wave of nausea rolled through me, my legs buckling beneath my own weight.
What the hell?
Then it hit me.
The glass of water on my nightstand—the one I'd left untouched after coming home.
Lucas had drugged it.
If I hadn't woken up when I did, the sedatives would've kicked in fully by now. He would've won.
Guess justice had the last laugh after all.
My vision swam, darkness creeping in at the edges. As my knees gave out, I cast one final glance at Lucas's lifeless body—and let a cold, satisfied smirk curl my lips before everything went black.
End of My Landlord’s Hidden Camera in Our Bathroom Chapter 5. Continue reading Chapter 6 or return to My Landlord’s Hidden Camera in Our Bathroom book page.