Page 54 of Sin Like the Devil

Not even Elon dared to comment or harass me when I rushed past him earlier, practically vibrating with the need to expel some energy before I incinerate like a supernova. He merely watched me go with that annoying-as-fuck smile.

They want power and control.

“You said we wouldn’t give it to them,” I hiss out between breaths. “You promised to fight.”

She isn’t real. I’m hearing nothing but mania-fuelled whispers of a long-dead ghost. I wish I could ignore the voices when they speak to me—it’s been a while since I’ve had that symptom. My medication usually keeps the worst of it at bay.

We’re not going to give it to them.

“Leave me alone!” I scream to the thin air.

The vows Holly once made didn’t stop the inevitable. Their cruel taunts tore apart the woman who took me in, gave me a home in the most terrifying of places, and taught me how to survive. In the end, she couldn’t save herself.

But that’s what they wanted, right?

To slowly splinter the formidable badass who’d once opposed them. Rip her into breakable pieces then scatter the remains behind them as they strolled into their new notoriety. Taking her life wasn’t hard—it was a convenience.

In the game of survival, it’s dog eat dog. Holly was a mere speck on their non-existent moral landscape. An annoying fly buzzing around, forever eluding the hand of its swatter until that fateful moment arrives.

Splat.

You’re left with an empty dorm room, a hurriedly cut noose and a zipped body bag. Taking a life should be harder than that. It should leave a deeper scar. So where the fuck are their scars? Why did they get to walk away and forget, but I never could?

Lost in the unstable frenzy of my grief, I don’t hear the soft tap, tap, tap of Raine’s guide stick until it’s too late. The golden-haired angel appears, leaning against the handlebars of the treadmill as he draws to a halt beside me.

“Really hoping no other girl in this shithole uses papaya body wash, or I’ve tracked down the wrong person.”

I use my tattooed forearm to wipe sweat from my face. “Don’t act like you just sniffed your way down here to find me.”

“What? It sounds way more impressive than me asking Xander where you’re hiding.”

Honestly, I’m not even surprised that Xander’s keeping an eye on me. I spotted him lingering outside my therapy session one morning too. This is how he prowls. Silently. From afar. Plotting and instigating until the right time to pounce presents itself.

“Tell your psycho buddy to stop fucking following me.”

Swiping a hand over his sleek blonde mop, Raine braces an elbow on the treadmill. “Like he’d listen to me.”

Inspecting him out the corner of my eye, I search for any signs of the wreck I left behind the other night. Dressed in jeans and ratty t-shirt, he seems loose, relaxed.

I can see past the act he puts on though. His grin is a tad too wide and voice a little high. I wasn’t sure how long that bag would last him. He must be nearly out.

“Listen, Ripley. I need to say thank?—”

“Don’t mention it,” I interrupt.

“Can’t even accept a simple thank you?” His mouth curls into a grin.

“For enabling you to continue ruining your life? I’ll pass.”

He pauses for a beat, appearing surprised.

“Wow. Someone left their filter in bed this morning.”

I want to bark out a laugh, but I’m too overwhelmed. Exhausted yet agitated. My body is buzzing like a live wire, and the brutal run has done little to abate the feeling. I’ve already scrubbed myself to the point of bleeding in the shower. This was my last resort to get the swarming energy out of my system.

I’ve learned the hard way that unless managed, manic episodes can turn bad. Fast. These days, I recognise my warning signs and act to stabilise myself. I don’t want to ever get to the point where I lose control again. That’s what landed me in here in the first place.

“Ripley?” Raine prompts. “You okay?”

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