My parents sent me to specialist after specialist, and they could never find out what was ‘wrong’ with me, why I wasn’t normal like the other children. But I messed with their minds, too. They couldn’t get me out of their offices fast enough.
I’m a killer above all else.
I’ve lost count of my kills, and the only trophies I keep are Polaroid pictures, which are under lock and key. I don’t even share the code with the others.
After the shouting stops between Marley and Ryan, I wait for what seems like almost an hour just to be sure they are asleep.
Locating the handcuffs, I gather them in my hands and put them in my pocket, and I head back to my campsite.
As for you, Marley, count down your days; you’re about to join my collection.
CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN
DAY 3
Drowsily opening my eyes, I feel for Ryan beside me. He’s still snoring and in a deep sleep.
Immediately, my eyes bulge out of my head at the memory of last night. Scurrying out of the tent, I throw my shoes on and speed walk over to where I remember finding the handcuffs.
I search the ground, moving the sticks and leaves around with my feet. After some time has gone by, I pause, starting tofeel a little crazy. “No, no, no,” I whimper. They were right here. I touched them. I held them in my hands. Closing my eyes, I remember the cool metal and blood against my fingers.
I take a deep breath to calm down from the impending panic attack I feel like I’m about to have.
What is going on? Is the isolation going to my head?
Abruptly, Ryan barrels out of the tent. I adjust my posture and slip into a smile that hides everything. “Hey, babe.”
“Good morning, beautiful.” He lets out a tired breath. “What are you doing out here so early?”
Sheepishly, I say, “You know, nature calls.” I huff out a laugh.
“Same, be right back.” Ryan heads to the tree line.
Walking over to our tent, I retrieve some workout clothes. I’m going to convince Ryan to go on a hike today. I need to get out of this area for my sanity.
Rushing to get dressed in leggings, a t-shirt, a sweatshirt, socks, and hiking shoes, I throw my hair up in a high ponytail.
As Ryan is walking back, he asks, “What are you planning for us today?” He quirks his eyebrow in question.
“Let’s go hiking. I want to see more of the park,” I answer as I start stretching my calves.
“Great idea, let me get dressed while you get some breakfast ready.”
“Okay,” I agree, walking over to the portable griddle and turning it on.
Going back to our cooler that is located on the floorboard of the backseat of the truck, I pick out some eggs from a container, and then grab our portable coffee machine, cups, plates, and forks.
Just as the eggs are about done, Ryan emerges and starts the coffee.
“Moving a little sluggishly this morning?” I tease Ryan.
“Just a bit, that whiskey gave me a serious headache.” Ryan winces, clutching his head.
“Grab some Tylenol, and I’m sure some food will help,” I instruct him.
I unfold our little table and place everything out for us.
