The symbol was unmistakable: a pentacle.
I stood there slack-jawed and stared at it.
I had vague memories of having reproduced that same symbol at other times as well, never knowing why my brain had memorized it or what it was related to.
“What does it mean?” I asked softly, shifting my gaze to the Boy beside me, who was smiling.
But he just repeated, “Time’s running out,” and dribbled the ball on the tile floor a few times before making for the door.
“Hold on, kid. You can’t just do that, okay? You have to explain!” I shouted, reaching the end of my patience.
The day was already off to a rocky start; this was the last thing I needed. The Boy turned and shot me a mischievous look over his shoulder before giggling and running away. I forced myself from the trancelike state I’d lapsed into and went after him into the now-empty bedroom.
Alexia and Jennifer had gone, just like I’d told them to do.
The lamp I’d thrown at the wall lay in pieces on the floor. The sheets were still rucked up, and my phone and pack of Winstons were exactly where I’d left them. The Boy seemed to have vanished into thin air without disturbing a single thing. I passed a hand through my damp hair; with a frustrated grunt, I let my towel hit the floor and went over to the dresser for a pair of boxers. After I’d gotten them on and inspected the room thoroughly, I admitted to myself that I was alone in the room and that I’d had another hallucination.
Like always, the Boy had just been a symptom of my dissociative personality disorder. Or, at least, that’s what Dr. Lively called it.
I knew he was right, but I still refused to acknowledge it to myself. I wasn’t ready to admit that there were thesealters—other personalities—that existed inside of me.
The day after my sixteenth birthday, Dr. Lively had discovered that two personalities coexisted in my mind. He hadn’t ruled out, however, the possibility that more could have emerged in the years since then.
I was afraid that exact thing might be happening to me at that moment. Sometimes, it felt like my head was crowded with people and voices; other times, it was just me and the Boy. On several occasions, I had no memory of things that I had done, like some other part of me had erased them.
It was still me—my body—doing those things, but my entire psyche was being piloted by a different person.
I often got the strange sensation that my brain was like a cell, always splitting and multiplying.
All of it was a result of dissociative identity disorder: a defense mechanism that the mind develops to protect someone who has experienced severe trauma.
In my case, I wasn’t sure who was the defense mechanism: the adult me or the child me. I had no idea who was trying to protect whom or, more importantly, which of the personalities was better.
The only real solution would have been to integrate into one personality, breaking down the fragile parts and drawing forth the stronger ones. But, to achieve this, I would have had to start treatment again and maybe check myself into a psychiatric facility. That was something I was never going to do voluntarily.
With all those thoughts swirling around in my head, I pulled on a pair of dark jeans, a white sweater, and my leather jacket. Fortunately, I always keep a spare set of clothes in the pool house; otherwise, I would have been forced to walk naked back into the house. Not that I would have been bothered—after all, I was pretty uninhibited—but Matt would have torn me a new one. He’d been giving me the cold shoulder ever since he found out I’d been screwing his daughter, so even the smallest infraction was enough to whip him into a fury.
I sighed as I gathered up all my stuff and left the pool house. I let Anna know that she should just throw away the broken lamp when she went into clean, and then I got into my car. I noticed that Logan’s Audi wasn’t in the garage. He’d probably already headed over to campus, which was exactly where I was going as well. He hadn’t asked me for a lift, though. Clearly he still hadn’t gotten over what had gone down between me and Alyssa. He barely spoke to me and was still upset with me because I’d reciprocated that fucking kiss, if only for a few seconds. I should have shoved her away automatically; I never should have let her tongue touch mine. Instead, I allowed shock and disbelief to turn me into a slack-jawed idiot and made my fateful mistake.
I parked my Maserati in the student lot and got out, ignoring the hungry looks from the scattering of girls who had just noticed my arrival as well as the enthralled looks from a few guys checking out my panther. Most people my age couldn’t afford that kind of treasure, so seeing a car like that roll up to the university parking lot was almost like a dream come true for them.
“There’s my favorite asshole.” Xavier threw an arm around my shoulders as I tucked the key fob into my pocket.
“What do you want? And quit touching me!” I snarled at him, shaking off his arm. He gave me a sardonic grin and glanced at Luke, who was finishing up his cigarette a few paces away.
“You in another bad mood today?” Luke asked, strolling toward the university’s entrance. Xavier and I fell into step behind him, Xavier looking way too cheerful.
“Like every day,” I answered dourly. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a few carefree hours. Probably the happiest I’d been recently was when I was in Detroit with Babygirl. And not just because of the incredible sex we’d had or the timid way she’d sucked my cock the next morning. It was the feeling of lightness, the peace that her presence seemed to always give me.
When I was with her, I wanted more than a fuck. I wanted to experience everything that she could give me.
My personal hell seemed a little more bearable when the Tigress was also walking through it with her ocean eyes and dizzying smile.
She made a racket inside my head.
She was becoming a pleasurable sort of madness.
“So, did you hear?” Xavier turned his attention back to me, draping his arm over my shoulders again. I shot him a dirty look but didn’t otherwise object.
