Page 108 of Psycho Devils: Aran's Story 2

“Ew, you weirdo.” I jerked back violently. “I can’t believe you actually kissed it! Immediate no. You have just violated every rule of friendship.”

John smirked. “Don’t pretend you didn’t like my lips on you, Aran.”

My stomach clenched. Violently.

For a long second, I struggled to breathe. Finally I found my voice and said, “You’re a shit healer. Also, Sadie is my best friend, so you’re still in second place.”

Instead of frowning like I expected, John flicked my nose. “It’s so cute that you don’t think I’m going to eliminate her and take her spot.”

He had to be joking.

John smiled indulgently.

“You know you can’t kill my best friend and expect to just take her place,” I said slowly. “I’d never forgive you.” Those were words I’d never expected to have to say.

John laughed like I’d made a joke. “First, yes, I can. Second, you’d eventually forgive me because I’m so charming, bestie.”

I twirled my pipe with my lips and inhaled drugs.

Instead of responding to his inane statements, I focused my energy on what was important: I needed to find a student with access to demon brew so I could get fucked up.

High and drunk.

ASAP.

There were open wounds covering every inch of exposed skin that I could see, and I was not mentally ready to deal with it. At least my clothes were still intact, so no one had seen my back. It was a minor miracle.

I needed to know what type of fabric they used. Talk about durability.

John’s gaze fell to my lips as I rolled the pipe back and forth with my tongue.

His Adam’s apple bobbed.

I blinked.

He parted his maroon lips. “On a more serious note, rumor is that whoever’s running this competition put something in the academy food so it takes longer for competitors to recover from injuries. Which is why you still look like that.” He waved his hands at me and grimaced.

“Wait, what?” I stopped staring at my friend’s neck like a creep and took stock of the injuries I’d been trying to ignore.

Streaks of pain let me know I had more gaping wounds under the sheet.

Now that I thought about it, after three days of sleep, my skin should have already knitted back together.

It hadn’t.

“Don’t worry,” John said with a serious inflection that made me immediately panic. “The first aid kit had a needle and thread, so we’ll just stitch you up. I’ve been too busy positioning your parts to help your natural healing, so now it looks like it’s time for step two. The little bandage was just some comedic humor before I started sewing.”

He winked and held up a needle and thread.

The blood coating his fingers to his forearms took on a whole new meaning.

“Oh my sun god, you’re not joking?” I asked.

John nodded. “I need you to think calm, peaceful princess thoughts and—”

I screamed and reared back as he stabbed me.

Instead of giving up like a sane person, John just rocked with me and kept sewing.

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