Page 96
“We need to track down the other girls who were in the asylum, before and after Riley. If he used them the same way, then he’s somehow found the perfect cover for his crimes. And… he’s not like other serial killers.”
“What do you mean?” Asher asked as we walked toward the closed door.
“He doesn’t just kill,” I whispered. “He manipulates. Hunts. Break them down until… they take their own lives.
Asher’s eyes darkened.
“The death toll’s still his, but it’s not the act of killing that drives him. It’s the hunt. The control. The power to strip someone of their will to live. That’s what he craves. The thrill of playing God,” I said.
Once he was done with them, when they were already shattered… he hit the final nail in the coffin.
“A serial killer who didn’t kill?” Asher frowned.
I nodded. “A serial killer who pitted the monsters in these girls’ heads against them, the monsters he created.”
As a psychiatrist, I had met many who were sick in the head. I had studied the fractured minds of the psychopaths and dissected their obsessions and hunger.
But as a killer, I understood the sickness.
Some carried their sickness visibly. Some wore masks of civility, hiding it under their skin until it came roaring out.
“You sound like you have met…”
“I know him. I know how he thinks, how he feels.”
“Because you’re a psychiatrist.”
“Because I’m someone like him.”
“You aren’t, Diya,” Asher said, eyes burning bright. Sometimes it was too easy to get lost in those eyes.
“I am, and it’s okay. I’m not ashamed.”
This world was full of people who carried carcasses of cruel creatures in their souls and they weren’t going to simply disappear. I made it my job to make them disappear. It made me feel good, powerful.
“You shouldn’t be,” he said, cupping my face in. “You’re perfect just the way you are, Diya Sharma, and I am…” He trailed off, once again, not finishing his thoughts. “So, how are we going to find this fucker?”
“We follow the trail, just as you’ve been doing.”
“Could he be a pedo?”
“I don’t know. Millie… if she was the first victim, was sixteen, but Riley was twenty,” I said, pursing my lips. “Perhaps, he just grew up.”
“He started killing when he was young?”
“Maybe.”
“But could he be that smart to hide everything?” He looked at me, and he must have seen the truth in my eyes. His eyes turned dark as he leaned closer, and took my hand in his. “You did. How old were you when you first killed?”
“Fourteen,” I whispered. Only Layne and Trina knew my truth. And now here he was.
“Oh God, Diya. I’m so sorry,” he whispered, pulling me closer to his body in an embrace that was too weird on my skin. His hand ran up and down my back, and I felt something. It wasn’t lust. It was comfort, and that was odd. I didn’t mind kissing him, I didn’t mind crawling to him, but this…
I quickly pulled away.
“No, I did what I did to survive.”
The way Max’s breath smelled… the way he would curse at me…
