Page 461 of Lessons in Cruelty

Where did he always go?

The only place either of us ever felt safe.

It’s a long shot, but I need to find him.

I need to make him admit what he did.

If I don’t, then I know where I’ll end up.

And it’s almost as terrifying a thought as whatever happened to the murder victims in that true crime documentary Blake’s watching.

As I hurry to the front door, one last snippet from the TV reaches me as my clammy hand wrestles with the doorknob.

I pause to listen, because I swear to God, I recognize the voice on the TV…and it sounds just like Deputy Thatcher.

“…thing that gets me isn’t what we found. It’s what we didn’t find. No prints. No DNA. Nothing. Like this demon went about his sick duty, then vanished back to hell without a trace.”

So it’s possible to hallucinate on alcohol. Cool, cool, cool.

Chapter 49

Kai

Hypothermia.

That’s what I should be worried about right now.

That I’ve stopped shivering doesn’t bode well. Can’t remember where I read it, but shivering is how the body fights off cold. So as long as your teeth are chattering, and your hands are shaking, you’re fine.

When it stops?

Body’s given up. Vital functions are shutting down.

I’m going in circles. My legs couldn’t take it anymore. My lungs are screaming at me. My feet are bruised, cut.

I remember Haven’s room. That cute little lamp shattering. But everything after that is a blur.

Must have slipped into a fugue state back there. Not the first time my brain couldn’t handle reality and just...switched off. The Rain Dance, when I jumped Ezra? I remember the first punch, then someone dragging me off Ezra’s limp, blood-splattered body.

That Tuesday I recorded Rooke in Haven’s room? I don’t have a physical memory of ninety percent of what happened. It feels like watching a found footage horror flick, and someone else was behind the camera.

Leaves slap against my face as I run past trees because my wet hoodie keeps getting dragged off my head. But I don’t stop, because what I’ve done back there is infinitely worse than just destroying Haven’s room.

Soon as she sees it, she’ll know it’s me.

And she’s going to think it’s because I’m angry at her. Again.

Couldn’t be further from the fucking truth.

Violence has a way of centering me. Always has.

I realized something tonight.

What I told her on Rooke’s bed was the truth.

…I fucking love you…

Jesus, how I wish I could blame the molly. But drugs had nothing to do with it.