He is the devil. This I am sure of.
A burning, hot anger was building in my chest, making my fingers and toes grow cold as the blood rushed to my core. What could I have possibly done to deserve my own personal demon?
8
THE POISONER
Iclutched the knife in my hand until my knuckles turned white.
Pacing the room, I glanced at the clock again.
One a.m., thirteen hours after our previous encounter.
Sleep was not something that would come to me tonight. Every sound the house made set me on edge, waiting for my least favorite bump in the night to appear. Intuition warned me in every way that something was coming.
That liar promised me a visit. I was not often asked questions I did not know the answer to, but the fact that he survived bothered me. Ineededto know how. It would only be a matter of time before I found out, and then my anxiety would be laid to rest.
I was unsure when he would come, all I knew was that hewould. Then, this deadly dance would commence, and Ihadto win. There was no other option. If I disappeared, who would take care of the men like him in this world? He did not deserve to be here, but those girls he murdered did. They had lives, families, aspirations—and he made out likea thief.
My hands and feet were cold, and my body had become clammy from the adrenaline pumping through my tired heart. With the knife still clutched in my fist, I lifted my hands up and down slowly, like a conductor, instructing myself on how to take in air and let it go.
I added extra soap to the bath as well as dried lavender. No herb would be strong enough to calm me, but the effort was admirable on my part.
I set the blade on the wooden stool beside the tub for safekeeping.
The hot water tingled as I lowered myself into it, forcing the blood back to my appendages. I groaned as the water crept up to my neck. The tension cracked like ice shattering in a water glass when I was finally submerged. It would have been more enjoyable if I was not prepared to run at any given moment. As much as I would cherish the opportunity to lie in the tub for hours, it would be too much precious time wasted.
Despite my efforts, my body betrayed me. It did not take long for my mind to swim, and I drifted into the void as a result.
A thud sent a shock through my heart as I woke. The whiplash from the sudden awakening cast an unpleasant spell of dizziness. My vision darted from the closed door to the clock on the wall.
Three a.m.
You fool, Alina!
I snatched the knife from the stool and lowered it into the water, obscured by the remaining suds. As much as I preferred not to be caught in this state, I might not have a choice in the matter.
The last encounter admittedly made me doubt if I could pull this off without some sort of chemical aid. Maybe if I was quiet, he would skip this room. My candle had already burned out, andI had not moved in some time. He could not know I was in here. I thought maybe I had a few minutes.
The heavy sound of a pair of boots echoed through the hallway, the old wooden floor whining under each step. My breathing slowed the closer they came. One after the other, leisurely in approach.
To muffle any noise my breathing would create, I placed my hand over my mouth. The sound of steps made it outside my bathroom door, and the knob slowly began to turn.
With a deep inhale, I sank under the water, hoping he would see an empty bathroom and move on. Now was a good time to test how long I could hold my breath. I tried to relax my body under the water, saving any oxygen I could spare as the muffled footsteps sauntered into the room.
My eyes clenched shut as I waited. I think I even caught a little voice in the back of my head praying. The silence under the water was deafening. My lungs ached, screaming at me for air.
Just a little longer.
Suddenly, a sharp pain of hair-pulling made me suck in, but my lungs were met with water instead of the air they craved.
My head was yanked above the water as my hands clawed at the leather-covered hand that pulled on my scalp.
I choked out some water and met that familiar feral stare.
“Were you trying to ruin my fun by offing yourself before we began?” he asked, crouching beside the tub. “That’s not very sportsmanlike of you.” His eyes lowered to the soap suds covering my chest.
I spat in his face.
