My Landlord’s Hidden Camera in Our Bathroom - Chapter 6: Chapter 6
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I had no idea how much time had passed when I finally pried my eyes open, my head pounding like a drum.
Outside the window, the sky was just beginning to blush with the first light of dawn.
Gritting my teeth, I pushed myself up, testing my arms and legs.
No broken bones, no lasting damage—just the fading haze of whatever drug they'd pumped into me.
Good. That meant nothing was stopping me from calling the cops.
With that thought, I turned—
And froze.
The shower curtain hung perfectly in place, untouched. The fruit knife rested neatly on the counter, as if it had never been used.
And Lucas Roland's body?
Gone.
The icy water shocked my skin as I splashed my face, but stepping back into the bathroom changed nothing. The same grim reality stared back at me.
Purple bruises mottled my body—painful souvenirs from my fight with Vincent Lowell. A chilling possibility slithered into my thoughts:
What if he wasn't dead? What if this was all some twisted performance?
But that didn't add up.
If this was just about waiting for the drug to knock me out, why leave me alive afterward?
I tore through his bedroom, flipping mattresses, yanking open drawers—nothing. The kitchen, living room, even my own space—all empty.
Did he run? Then why abandon me here?
Unless... he wanted to pin this on me.
No. Impossible. The hidden camera caught everything.
Wait—
The camera!
I bolted back to the bathroom, heart hammering. Didn't flip the switch. That tiny lens should've glowed red in the darkness—Vincent had wedged it into a ceiling crack so well I'd never have found it without his diary.
But now? Pitch black. No red eye watching.
That's wrong. I'd memorized its position for the cops.
Seconds crawled by before the truth hit me like a sucker punch—it was gone.
My phone vibrated.
Hands shaking, I unlocked it.
"If I guessed right, you're awake now?"
My breath caught. Vincent. Alive.
He'd taken the camera before vanishing.
Another buzz—a video.
I tapped it and recoiled, sending a kettle crashing to the floor.
There I was in the bathroom... but the footage was gutted. Only my hands at his throat remained.
"Stay put, Meimei."
I typed back, fingers jabbing the screen: "What do you want?"
His reply ignored me: "Leave this apartment for more than an hour, and this goes straight to the police."
I fired off desperate questions. Radio silence.
Would he come back? No clue.
But one thing screamed in my skull—he held all the cards now.
For days, I haunted that two-bedroom like a wraith, flooding his phone with pleas. Nothing.
The air grew thicker, my sanity thinner.
And then... I felt it.
Eyes.
Not cameras. Something worse—a gaze, hungry and patient, studying my every move.
I tore the place apart. Found nothing.
Maybe some high-tech spy cam? Google offered no answers.
Another sleepless night. I drifted through rooms, hollow as a ghost.
Finally, I stepped under a scalding shower. Steam loosened my knotted muscles—until warmth vanished.
Total darkness. No water. No power.
Groping for a towel, my hand froze mid-air.
I heard it. Really heard it.
As I bent toward the mirror, dripping wet in the blackness...
Something fell behind my reflection.
Outside the window, the sky was just beginning to blush with the first light of dawn.
Gritting my teeth, I pushed myself up, testing my arms and legs.
No broken bones, no lasting damage—just the fading haze of whatever drug they'd pumped into me.
Good. That meant nothing was stopping me from calling the cops.
With that thought, I turned—
And froze.
The shower curtain hung perfectly in place, untouched. The fruit knife rested neatly on the counter, as if it had never been used.
And Lucas Roland's body?
Gone.
The icy water shocked my skin as I splashed my face, but stepping back into the bathroom changed nothing. The same grim reality stared back at me.
Purple bruises mottled my body—painful souvenirs from my fight with Vincent Lowell. A chilling possibility slithered into my thoughts:
What if he wasn't dead? What if this was all some twisted performance?
But that didn't add up.
If this was just about waiting for the drug to knock me out, why leave me alive afterward?
I tore through his bedroom, flipping mattresses, yanking open drawers—nothing. The kitchen, living room, even my own space—all empty.
Did he run? Then why abandon me here?
Unless... he wanted to pin this on me.
No. Impossible. The hidden camera caught everything.
Wait—
The camera!
I bolted back to the bathroom, heart hammering. Didn't flip the switch. That tiny lens should've glowed red in the darkness—Vincent had wedged it into a ceiling crack so well I'd never have found it without his diary.
But now? Pitch black. No red eye watching.
That's wrong. I'd memorized its position for the cops.
Seconds crawled by before the truth hit me like a sucker punch—it was gone.
My phone vibrated.
Hands shaking, I unlocked it.
"If I guessed right, you're awake now?"
My breath caught. Vincent. Alive.
He'd taken the camera before vanishing.
Another buzz—a video.
I tapped it and recoiled, sending a kettle crashing to the floor.
There I was in the bathroom... but the footage was gutted. Only my hands at his throat remained.
"Stay put, Meimei."
I typed back, fingers jabbing the screen: "What do you want?"
His reply ignored me: "Leave this apartment for more than an hour, and this goes straight to the police."
I fired off desperate questions. Radio silence.
Would he come back? No clue.
But one thing screamed in my skull—he held all the cards now.
For days, I haunted that two-bedroom like a wraith, flooding his phone with pleas. Nothing.
The air grew thicker, my sanity thinner.
And then... I felt it.
Eyes.
Not cameras. Something worse—a gaze, hungry and patient, studying my every move.
I tore the place apart. Found nothing.
Maybe some high-tech spy cam? Google offered no answers.
Another sleepless night. I drifted through rooms, hollow as a ghost.
Finally, I stepped under a scalding shower. Steam loosened my knotted muscles—until warmth vanished.
Total darkness. No water. No power.
Groping for a towel, my hand froze mid-air.
I heard it. Really heard it.
As I bent toward the mirror, dripping wet in the blackness...
Something fell behind my reflection.
End of My Landlord’s Hidden Camera in Our Bathroom Chapter 6. Continue reading Chapter 7 or return to My Landlord’s Hidden Camera in Our Bathroom book page.