I’ve hallucinated before.
Is someone trying to warn me?
Was it Irvin who sent the message—
Am I next?
Is Irvin manipulative enough to play mind games with my life?
He wasn’t in the room when the message was sent the night Winter was admitted to the hospital. He’s never around when the victims are killed. The last message I received from an unknown number Irvin swore the message disappeared.
Is it possible he erased it so he could fuck with my mind?
I leave the auditorium shaken. I’m scared.
Scared that he’s the killer on campus.
I drive home slowly, taking the longer route. I don’t have class for the rest of the evening—it’s study hall day.
What will I say to him?
How can I play it cool?
I can’t say Irvin is the killer. And I can’t say that he isn’t.
When I arrive home, his black motorcycle is parked in the garage.
Heat floods my ears and neck.
I creep into the kitchen, then the living room. My shoulders tighten.
Irvin is resting on the couch, reading a book from one of his classes.
I sit on the edge of the cushion. My eyes widen.
He pulls me in for a kiss. I force myself not to flinch.
My gut twists into a knot.
I bite the inside of my cheek. Iron coats my tongue.
I turn away and run my hands through my puffy curls.
“What’s wrong, my princess?”
I need to frame this carefully—so he won’t suspect I know anything. If he’s the killer—
“I learned about another student’s death, and it hit home. Like Winter’s attack.”
His shoulders straighten. He wraps his arms around my waist. “Go on.”
“Irek Williams. He was a junior. He was in my literature class last year. His throat was slit.” I swallow. “He was a nice guy.” I search his face for a reaction. There is none. “Did you know him?”
He nods. “Yeah. His father works in the HR department at the club.”
A lump forms in my throat.
“Did you know him on a personal level?”
