"Easy, it's me," Easton's voice called out.
I punched him hard on the right shoulder.
"You scared me!" I shrieked. "What are you doing here?"
"You were taking too long, so I came to look for you."
"Were you the one who turned on the showers?"
Easton frowned and shook his head.
"I just got here."
It hadn't been him?
Then who had thrown my things all over the floor?
Immediately, the memory of the boy wearing the gas mask—the one I had seen in my house a few days ago—made every hair on my body stand on end.
Oh my God... had it been him?
Was that boy following me even here?
"Babe, what's wrong? You look pale."
"I think someone was trying to play a prank on me," I murmured.
Easton raised an eyebrow.
"A minute ago, someone threw all my things onto the floor, and then they turned o
