Page 12 of Psycho

The smile turned into a frown, and a hideous one at that. Some men looked good while frowning—like Travis—but Ray’s frown was simply ugly. “This Will and Declan sound like they got what they deserved.” He cocked his head at me. “Do you plan on using it on me again, Ash?”

God, I hated the way he spoke my name. I hated it so much. How the hell did I ever swoon over this guy? He reviled me. I loathed him and what he stood for with my entire being. I was stupid for ever agreeing to go with him. I should’ve marched back into that party, dragged Kelsey off Sawyer’s dick, and drove us back to Hillcrest.

“Should I?” I shot back, my folded hands parting. One of them went to my lap, the other fiddled with the knife’s handle.

“I don’t suppose it would change anything if I told you I only hurt one of your boyfriends?” Ray asked. “I think I handled the situation rather well, considering how much they fawned over you. I should’ve killed them all, gone for the heart—”

What he said first caught my attention. “One?” I echoed, fingers curling around the knife.

“The one in the apartment,” Ray said, shrugging those shoulders I used to love. “He came onto the scene late, and he seemed to be moving pretty fast with you. The others…didn’t seem as gung-ho. I sent them notes, though. I tried to warn them away, but they didn’t listen.”

I didn’t know how to process what he was telling me. Ray had stabbed Will but not Declan? Then what—

“Whatever happened to the other one, well, that wasn’t me,” Ray said, his smile making its return. “You should be glad I let them be, Ash. I really wanted to kill them all just for looking at you, let alone kissing you and touching you.”

I stood up, still holding the knife. “That is not your decision to make, Ray, it’s mine.” My voice wavered just a bit, and I blamed it on what Ray said. Even now, the bastard tried to get into my head, sought to make me believe things that couldn’t be true.

If Ray didn’t hurt Declan, who did? Did someone else try to kill him, or did he…was the perpetrator Declan himself?

“You’re mine, Ash,” Ray told me. “You said so yourself.” He took a step towards me, and I took a step back. My step drew me away from the counter, away from the kitchen, closer to the hall.

“I lied,” I hissed. The hand holding the knife began to shake, and I couldn’t stop it.

Ray noticed. “What are you doing? Put that down—” He took another step closer to me, and I responded by lifting the serrated edge to my throat, stopping him cold.

“Don’t come any closer,” I said, feeling my throat press against the cold, stained metal with each spoken word. A chill went down my spine, and I hated that it came to this. Was this how my story would end, with me ending my own life in pure spite while doubting Declan? Seemed a terrible way to go.

I didn’t want to die on this day, but if I had to, I would. Ray would not have me again; forever was not a word in our relationship. We were always meant to crash and burn, and if I had to take the wheel and crash us into the nearest tree at full speed, I would.

Ray shook his head, his voice much softer, kinder as he said, “Amorcito, please. Put the knife down.” Desperate, pleading, as if talking to a wild animal and not a person.

“Why should I?” I asked, swallowing against the steel. “You will never let me be, Ray. You’ll never let me live my own life and make my own choices. You’ll always be there, watching.”

“Because I love you—”

“This isn’t love,” I shouted at him. “This is wrong. It was wrong from the start. We both knew it, but we went along with it anyway. If this is how our story has to end, then so be it. I’m ready.” A lie, a terrible lie I wasn’t sure he believed, but I ended the sentence by pressing the knife against my neck harder. The steel bit into my skin, just a hair, enough to make me wince and cause a trickle of blood to fall down my neck and between my breasts, staining the slip.

“Stop!” Ray started for me, but again he stopped when he saw the arm holding the knife tense. “Why are you doing this? I thought I made you happy?”

“You did, once.” AKA before I knew that dating a thirty-something man was wrong, before I knew what he got up to during his time away from me. “But not anymore.” That, at least, was the truth.

“What do you want me to do? I can’t just let you go—”

“You either let me go, or I die right here. The choice is pretty simple, Ray. Stop trying to make it so complicated.”

Ray’s lips thinned into a line, and a dark expression crossed his face. “You’re mine. You’ll always be mine. You know that, even if you leave, I’ll be watching you. And those rich putas at Hillcrest—”

“You’ll leave those rich putas alone,” I told him with vehemence. “If I get one whiff of you trying to hurt any of my boyfriends, if you so much as try to hurt one single fucking hair on their heads, I’ll know. I’ll know, Ray, and I’ll do it.” I hated calling them my boyfriends, but for the sake of the argument, it made things a little simpler.

“They don’t know the real you,” Ray whispered, practically begging me to stop, to change my mind. “They won’t be able to handle you.”

I forced out a smile, even though my neck throbbed with a steady reminder that I’d nicked myself. “Maybe not, but that’s a problem I’ll handle later on. It’s not up to you. Who I’m with is up to me.” I took a step back, down the hall that led to the front door. “If you hurt any of them, Ray, I mean it. I’ll make sure you hurt them in vain.” With no prize, there was nothing to fight over. Remove me from the picture, and Ray would have no reason to go after them.

Ray, ironically, wasn’t as spiteful as me. Without me, he’d have no motivation.

I stepped backwards all the way to the door, locking eyes with him as I bent to pick up the hoodie. Still kind of smelled rancid, but I hoped once I was out of here, walking in the fresh air, the stank would dissipate. “Oh, and I’m taking your knife,” I told him. “Goodbye, Ray.”

I lowered the knife once I got outside, once I was out in the open on a side street I didn’t recognize. I hurried down the driveway as I slipped on the hoodie—it practically covered all of me, since it was Ray’s and I was so thin. The knife fit perfectly in the hoodie’s pocket, hidden from the world.

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