He rounded a corner, disappearing into the shadows of a narrow hallway. I pressed my body against the wall, my eyes dark, and my fucking breath heavy in my chest. The sound of moans, the ghost of heat, and the memory of what he did to me hung in the air, almost tangible and suffocating.
But I knew the truth. He can leave me.
I can’t escape him.
I pressed my forehead to the wall, letting the ache of his loss mix with the anger. He had chosen the light over my darkness, and yet part of him would always carry the memory of our void. Maybe I would wait. I was always waiting.
Burning.
Hungry.
And fucking possessed.
All I had was hope. Hope that, despite the heartbreak, one day he would return to the shadows where he belonged.
No, I had rage—blind hot fury.
“If I can’t have you, Sunshine, then no one will.”
I will burn you in the light you fucking sacrificed everything for. The light you threw me away to have.
I will fucking burn everything in your past, present, and future.
“Let the flames light your way, Baby Boy. I will see you and my fucking sister in hell.”
Two Months Later
The fluorescent lightsstabbed into me like icy fucking knives. Each breath of formaldehyde under my nose, every sterile whiff of antiseptic, it all cut sharper than any scalpel ever could. I gripped the instrument like it was the last lifeline keeping me tethered to fucking reality—but the tether was frayed, shredded by Carrington and Xanthy alike.
I took another swig from the water bottle. I let the secret ingredient burn my throat and keep me teetering on my ever-present buzz.
Vodka.
It was sharp, hot, and the only fucking comfort I had lately. It was necessary. My hands still trembled while my eyes dartedover the cadaver. The curves of its shoulders, the hollow eye sockets, and the hunk of muscle just dead. I saw him. Like every other fucking dead man I touched.
Carrington.
Every line of muscle became his body. Every contour, every pale shadow became a reminder of what I’d done to him.
And to myself.
In my attempt to prevent a monster, I created an entirely different one.
As if my mind weren’t already cruel enough, Xanthy appeared next to the corpse. Her face was smug and mocking, layered over his. The two warped like a glued creature, and I couldn’t look away.
Bzzz.
Another text. It buzzed relentlessly in my pocket. I didn’t want to read it, not after the last one.
X: Don’t forget the flowers! I can’t wait to be your wife!!! Did you get the seating chart from the wedding planner? Oh, and can you send your RSVPs, pllleeaaasse?! Soooo excited, Baby!”
I gagged in my mind, dropping the scalpel. It clattered across the table, and my classmates froze, their eyes widening on me. Mason, the closest thing I had to a friend, cursed under his breath.
I stumbled backward from the cadaver.
My chair scraped violently, tilting precariously.
“Shit…shit…” I muttered, unable to breathe properly, their faces jerking and convulsing, blending into one gnarly monster.
