I saw him jump. “It’s Mr. Morris? Ms. Lincoln? Mr. Larwin sent me?”

I rested my forehead against the door’s cool, sturdy planks and closed my eyes. Life had certainly not gone the way I had wanted. Somewhere, the path had taken a turn.

I opened the door. “Mr. Morris,” I said.

He seemed surprised. “H-hello, Ms. Lincoln?” His face registered concern as he took in the person before him, and possibly pity. “Are you all right? You look . . .”

“Yes, I know how I look,” I said wearily. “I had a run-in with some trespassers.” At his expression, I hastily added, “They’re gone now.”

This flabbergasted Morris. “I knew that they—but! They beat you? We must call the police!”

“No!” I snapped at him. “No police.” I gestured for him to come inside and, hesitantly, he followed. I shut the door. “What do you mean, you knew? Knew about what?” My voice was monotone.

Morris sat down on the couch. I almost vomited. Strange people outside, strange ass on the couch. This was how dreams were broken. Every part of me hurt.

“Oh, well it’s all over the internet, you know. ‘Crazy Woman in Woods.’” His face fell when he realized I didn’t understand. “Someone filmed you crushing the camera of a famous urban explorer. The video went viral, as they say.” He paused. “He hadn’t realized who you were until he met you. You’ve been quite the mystery, you know. Local legend. For years now.”

I sat on the other end of the couch in a low slouch, leaned my head back, and closed my eyes. “Krystal,” I murmured.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, nothing,” I said. “So these people are after me.”

“Yes, I think so. Not after you, I don’t think, but this thing you have going here”—Morris looked around, indicating the apartment and everything around it—“well, it’s quite the sensation. People love classic television, you know.” When I said nothing he continued. “It’s hard to keep a secret these days. Everyone has to know about everything. No mystery left in the world, no privacy.” He paused and looked worried. “If I were you I would hire a security detail. Two men at the end of the—”

“No,” I said, opening my eyes. The curtness of my reply must have surprised him. He sat up straight, as if surprised I could speak at all. “No security. No police. If someone tries anything, I will kill them.”

Morris started playing with his hands, his right hand twisting at his left thumb. “Oh dear. Well, we don’t want that. No killing.”

“Why not?” I said without conviction. “They’re killing me. They’re killing this.” I leaned my head back again and weakly gestured at the room.

He turned to his briefcase and opened it. Took out some file folders. “I have some papers for you to sign. Mr. Larwin mentioned them to you, I think . . .?” He set them down on the rattan coffee table in front of me.