You. Fucking.Idiot,Reverie.
My heart drops as realization dawns.
Angel wings.
Lionel’s tattoo of the angel wings, clearly fucking drawn by a child.
Dread could’ve easily made an educated guess that I drew those wings for Lionel because it was his nickname for me, and my physical reaction to it confirmed his theory. He likely assumed I couldn’t bear to hear him say it because I coveted the nickname, rather than detest it because I hate my father. Then, he could've decided to reserve using the nickname—make me think he was none the wiser by never speaking of the endearment again after that party, all the while patiently waiting for a moment like this, when he could use it to fuck with my head in a way I never saw coming.
In a way that would finally give him what he’salwaysfucking wanted—to break me.
“Hold on a second,” I whisper to Officer Hillcrest, who has been patiently waiting.
Robotically, I look up to find Dread watching me closely—as he always fucking does.Then, I take the note from his hand, Roxi’s words floating through my mind as I read it again.
“That’s not Lionel’s handwriting, anyway. I have letters to prove it.”
I bite my bottom lip just as it begins to tremble, a sharp ache spearing directly into my chest.
Roxi insisted this wasn't Lionel’s handwriting, and though I have no reason to believe her, my gut tells me she wasn't lying. Even though I can't remember it, nothing about the script is familiar or triggers any part of my brain, and I've read enough angry letters from Lionel to feel like it should.
Maybe Lionel purposely made it different so we couldn't trace it back to him and gave the note to Roxi for her to throw at the window. But there's a distinct feeling Roxi’s more useful to Lionel being ignorant to who he truly is. She's someone who feels like she knows him inside and out, and that makes her more believable when she advocates for his innocence.
So maybe the answer is simple. Someone else wrote the note, and the eyeballs are as fake as the body parts left in my room last month.
And the only other person who's capable of hurting me like that is sitting right in front of me.
My stare slowly lifts to Dread’s, who continues to watch me intently. There’s no sign of malice, or even panic I’d figured him out. Only concern creases the skin between his brows, and when he clocks my expression, it only deepens.
Rogue and Severen have always helped Dread. The last delivery ended up in my backpack while Dread was in North Carolina, but I spent the entire week with both of them. The photo of Lionel and me is on his Facebook profile, and Margaret’s crime scene photos were publicized a while ago—both easy for one of them to get a hold of and print. Rogue or Severen could’ve slipped the note and pictures in when I wasn’t looking, just like one of them could’ve destroyed my dorm and stabbed that note into my desk. Or broke into my room before I got home from work and left Mindy’s barrette and the first note on my bed for me to find right before Dread kidnapped me.
One of them could've ordered fake eyeballs from the internet, poured artificial blood on them, tossed in another note, and thrown the box at his window.
It’s a kick to the fucking chest as all the pieces perfectly click into place.
Lionel called me only one time, but once I rejected him, he never tried again, not even a text. All this time, I thought he was angry and terrorizing me to fuck with my head, but maybe…
Maybe he hasn’t been terrorizing me at all. It would explain why Lionel and the copycat are continuing with their murders, unaware an evil fucking human being is pretending to be him just to hurt me, and why it always seemed they were in two different states at the same time.
Is Mindy Sackler truly missing, or is she in on this, too, and this is all just some extremely elaborate, fucked-up prank? If Dread couldconvince a dozen girls to dress up as murder victims, surely he could convince a girl to pretend she’s missing for a few weeks. It would be so easy for her to give him her pink hair clip, set up an obvious fake dating profile, then have her friend publicly accuse me of killing her. Let the media roll with the accusation for a little while, create fake accounts of Mindy’s family and friends looking for her, only for her to show up one day.
Sure, it could really hurt Dread’s reputation, or even his swim career if anyone found out he put Mindy up to it, but he’s said on multiple occasions he’d lose everything if it meant finally breaking me. He’d throw it all away for his revenge.
I close my eyes, agony tearing through my insides like a child frantically searching for their favorite toy.
Iknewsleeping with Dread was a huge mistake, but for the first time, I didn’t immediately consider he could be behind this. He's gotten into my head so thoroughly I completely forget who the fuck he is.
“I-I think I might know who it was,” I whisper into the phone, keeping my gaze locked with Dread’s. “I think they’re just playing another cruel prank on me.”
I’m not sure what he sees written across my face, but a second later, a flicker of hurt flashes across his eyes before he smothers it. Then, his expression instantly smooths into a blank mask, going stone cold.
“Jesus, I’m sorry to hear that,” Officer Hillcrest says, sounding disgusted. “Wait, I’m sorry—did you sayanothercruel prank? Do you need me to help?—”
“That’s okay,” I rush out quickly, tears burning a vengeful path through my sinuses. “I’m used to it. It’s fine. I’m sorry I wasted your time, but thank you for all your help.”
“N-no, it’s not an issue at all, Ms. Adams. I’m, uh, I’m happy to assist in any way I can,” he says, stuttering over the words, like he’s unsure of what to say or do for a moment. My cheeks heat, embarrassed I demanded my father’s parole officer call me, only for him to bear witness to me figuring out I’m just being fucking bullied again. “Listen, I’ve sat across a desk from a lot of monsters in this world, and if this job has taught me anything, it’s how to handle them. You can call me anytime you need, okay?”
I blink, and a tear loosens. “Okay.”
