“To remember.” I let the words hang between us, then I push the door open, letting the cold air smack me in the face like a wake up call, like it knows we’re getting closer to the truth.
thirty-eight
Rowyn Hale
Bloody Hands
The day has been long and I can’t stop crying. My mind is playing tricks on me, and I feel like I’m being watched even though I’m completely alone. The maintenance man came hours ago to fix my door and that’s the only human interaction I’ve had. I refuse to leave. I’m not ready to venture out even if there’s no one here. The room won’t stop watching me. That’s what it feels like. Every corner, every shadow, every piece of furniture is just… waiting. Waiting for me to break. My hands won’t leave my hair. They keep going back to it over and over again, like if I touch it enough it will fix itself. It’s still uneven. Still all chopped up, I should just make an appointment with the local hairdresser but it’s too late now and I’ll have to wait until Friday. After Thanksgiving.
What I wouldn’t give to be able to call my dad to cry, to tell him what’s been going on, to tell him I want to come home, that I hate this place. That I should've never came here. He was right to warn me. He never blatantly came out and said not to come here, but I could feel the disapproval any time I mentioned it. Like he had history here he didn’t want me to know about. But I’m all alone. I texted Misti just to talk. I thought it would make me feel better but she’s busy helping her mom get ready for tomorrow. My heart sinks in my chest thinking about another fucking holiday alone. No family, no friends. Just me, myself, and my fucked up hair. A shaky breath leaves me as I sit on the edge of my bed staring at the floor where a few pieces of my hair still lie.
“This isn’t real! When am I going to wake up from this nightmare?” I murmur to myself. It has to be. It fucking has to be. My stomach twists into knots like it’s done all day. I can’t help but think about Kade, Elliot and Grayson. All of them. My chest tightens. That same creeping panic curls its fingers around my ribs, sucking the air from my lungs. “No,” I whisper. “They don’t get to do this to me. This shit ends now.” But my words feel hollow. Because they’ve already won. My eyes flick to Misti’s mirror, regretting it instantly. Tears pour down my face because the girl staring back at me is a shellof a person that I no longer recognize. When did I become her? My hair is ruined. My eyes are too wide. It’s like looking into the void. There’s nothing left. No life in sight. I look away, snarling at myself. My pulse won’t slow down. I’ve been in a state of panic and ruin all fucking day. But the silence is so loud. The room is so empty and I feel… lost, defeated. I don’t want to stay awake any longer. Maybe if I go to sleep, I’ll finally wake up from this nightmare and my hair will be perfect again and none of this happened. It was all a fucking dream.
So, I crawl into bed even though my skin crawls with worry, and my gaze slams towards the door knob ensuring it’s locked. I’m safe. No one can get to me. I lay back against my pillow, and my body shakes with fear, screaming to get up and leave, not to go to sleep. I pull my blanket up over my head leaving my nightstand lamp on. I’m too afraid to immerse myself in darkness. Too afraid I won’t be able to pull myself out. My eyes slowly close and I take a deep breath allowing sleep to take me under while praying I come out on the other side to a better day.
I’m in the woods. I know I’m dreaming. I have to be right? But why does it feel so real? Cold air cuts against my skin as the snow crunches beneath my feet, the smell of pine and something darker, metallic almost. My breath comes out in small clouds in frontof me, and I look down. My hands are filthy, but something darker smudges against my fingers. Sticky and thick. My stomach drops. “No!” I shout, then go still as a twig snaps and snow crunching behind me has the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. I turn and see Grayson standing before me, but it’s not how he normally looks. His eyes are black, completely void. He looks colder, darker, like a demon. He smiles and it’s a smile that I’ve never seen, it’s as if what he is showing me no one else gets to see. No one has ever seen.
“You’re late,” he says, and my chest tightens.
“I don’t–” My voice comes out shaky. “ I don’t know what this is,” I say, and he grins.
“You do,” he states, calmly, too calm for the boy I know all too well. I take a step back, shaking my head.
“I don’t remember this,” I whisper,
“That’s the problem,” he says, then I hear a sound behind me, not footsteps, not snow crunching, something weaker, almost fragile. A broken inhale. My body goes rigid and slowly I turn. There’s someone on the ground but I can’t see their face. Just the shape, curled into a ball, barely moving. My pulse roars in my ears as I shake my head.
“No,” I whisper as my hands start to shake. I didn’t do this. I didn’t.
“Rowyn, baby,” Grayson says, as his nose drags against the back of my neck. “Look at me,” he commands, and mybody moves of its own accord, turning to face him because when the devil himself makes an order, you don’t have any choice but to obey. “You know what happens next,” he says, leaning in and brushing his lips against mine. Smoke from a burning fire is all I smell and the taste of blood lingers along his lips.
“I don’t, Grayson. You’re going to have to help me,” I whimper as his hands grip my hips then move up my stomach and over the curve of my tits. He groans deep in his chest, then his tongue snakes out and drags along my lips, making me moan. Why am I so turned on right now? My body is betraying me when my mind is terrified. Something is suddenly pressed under my chin, making me gasp. Cold metal nicks my skin, and he smiles, then places it into my hand. I look down and see the knife and my hand automatically grips the handle. “No,” I choke. “No, I’m not going—” But he interrupts when his hand is suddenly between my legs, pressing against my clit. I bite my bottom lip as his fingers press harder against me.
“You already did, Little Killer.” But the words hit wrong. Like they already happened and this isn’t a choice. It’s a repeat. I try to pull away but my body doesn’t listen. My hips roll the more his fingers toy with my clit. But then the woods spin and I’m facing the person that is lying in the snow, covered in blood.
“Grayson, no. I’m not!” I shout, but his lips grace the bottom of my ear as his teeth sink into my flesh.
“But you already did. Now finish it,” he commands, his voice deeper, almost contorted. My heart slams against my ribs as I fall to my knees. The knife shakes violently in my hand, but my arm lifts as if it has a mind of its own, then slams down against the person’s torso, sinking the blade into their flesh. Something in my chest cracks and my hold on the handle of the knife steadies, tightens, and I rip the blade out of their skin then do it again and again. Blood sprays against my face, my body, and my hands as I continue to stab, twist, and slice into this person.
A sinister smile spreads across my face as Grayson comes to kneel on the opposite side, wielding his own knife. He rears back and slams into the person, short quick stabs. Then our eyes meet as we heave for air. I lick my lips and he does the same, and before we know it, we’re kissing, touching, ripping each other's clothes off. I don’t feel the cold of the snow as Grayson lays me down next to the dead body, I don’t feel the blood sticking to my skin. All I feel is him. The weight of him on top of me. The soft tip of his cock poking at my entrance then slamming into me. I hold my breath, then exhale on a moan as he fucks me hard and fast. His fingers digging into my hips so painfully I know I’ll have marks for days to come, but fuck he feels so fucking good.
“So fuckingtight, Little Killer. I’m going to ruin this cunt. It’s mine!” he growls, slamming into me, and I scream out in pleasure as he takes a nipple into his mouth, biting down on the tender flesh. I roll my hips meeting him thrust for thrust.
“I’m so fucking close. Don’t stop, Grayson. Fuck me. Fuck me like I’m yours,” I pant, and he growls as his eyes turn red like a demon and his teeth snap at me like a wild beast.
“Fuckkkk!!!!” he roars as he fills me, but he doesn’t stop. He picks up the pace, pinching my clit, and I scream through my orgasm, shaking in the snow.
I jerk awake with a scream ripping out of my throat. My body curls forward, my breathing coming in violent choking gasps. I look down at my hands as they shake. Clean. No blood. No knife. Nothing. My chest heaves while my heart feels like it’s trying to claw its way out. “No, no, no! It was a fucking dream. Just a fucking dream,” I yell, shaking my head. I sit up and my gaze finds the mirror once more and my reflection stares back and just for a second—it smirks.
thirty-nine
Grayson Mercer
A rift in the order
Thanksgiving night…
Campus is dead. Not empty. Dead. There’s a difference. Empty means people will come back. Dead means something’s already taken its place. I lean against the railing outside the dorms smoking a prerolled and staring out over the trees. Lights flicker in a few windows but most of the place is hollowed out for Thanksgiving. They’ll be back tomorrow or over the weekend. I really don’t give a shit. I enjoy the quiet but it’s too fucking quiet. Taking a pull of the weed, my phone buzzes. Kade, but I don’t answer. Then Elliot starts calling back to back, and again, I don’t answer. Not yet at least. I let it ring out, let them sit and stew for a bit because I already know what it’s about. The little girl. The past ready to bust out at the seams never wanting to stay fucking buried where it belongs. My jaw tightens slightly,annoyed because they won’t fucking stop. A message flashes across my screen making me smirk.
