Page 26 of Madness Blooms

His full lips curl into a grin until he notices my pallor. “Is there something wrong?” A range of emotions crosses his face before he settles on a concerned frown. “Was it something I said? You look pale.”

“I just remembered,” I say, quickly standing up. “I still have to take my meds.”

I leave Luke wondering if I’m crazy as I make my way upstairs and into the bathroom. I search the cabinet for my medication, fill a cup with water, and take my dose with ease. I’m unsure if I should be proud of the fact that I can swallow pills in one go now.

With the tap still running, I get the urge to splash my face with water. Though I don’t want to ruin my makeup, which seems shallow. But I think people should be able to feel good about themselves, even if it means being a little vain sometimes.

After my little meltdown, I am determined to salvage the rest of the evening. I turn off the faucet—and jump at the sound of something falling with a heavy thud downstairs. The door is ajar, and I poke my head out. “Luke?” I shout, hoping he can hear me over the TV. No response.

My shoulders tense, my throat constricting. “Luke?” I repeat, exiting the bathroom.Oh my God. Isheback?The masked stranger, the man I thought I’d stopped fearing. My blood runs cold at the thought of him attacking my boyfriend. Luke is strong, but what if that bastard gets the best of him? Keeping my steps light, I hurry to my room and lift the mattress, retrieving the steak knife.

No way that fucker is catching me off guard again.

I lower my hands to my sides, my nails digging into my palms as I quietly descend the stairs. My heart drops into my ass when a step creaks beneath me, and I freeze, waiting for any sound. But there’s nothing. I continue, keeping my eyes peeled for movement. At the bottom of the stairs, I take a moment to survey my surroundings for any sign of danger.

No one is in the hall or the foyer. Unfortunately, from where I stand, I can only see part of the living room. Suddenly, a commercial blasts from the TV, making me jump. Swallowing hard, I move forward, my fear mounting as I approach the living room. As I get closer, I see someone lying limply on the floor by the coffee table. Fear sinks its icy claws into my crumbling resolve as I reach out and croak, “Luke?”

The oven timer goes off—and he lunges, knocking me down. But it’s not Luke playing a prank, or some sick practical joke.

I scream as the masked stranger pins me down and restrains me. He presses his fingers into my wrist, causing me to cry out in pain as I lose my grip on the knife. He kicks it far across the room before subduing me. I’m left staring into the pitch-black eyes of his mask. Paralyzed like a deer in headlights.

“Luke?” I ask meekly, willing myself not to sob—even though I know it’s not him.

Right?

His chuckle is rolling, soft in its dark amusement through the voice changer. “Wrong answer. Try again, Bunny.”

“I don’t know!” I yell, thrashing against him as he laughs at my pathetic attempt to escape.

He removes the mask and tosses it aside, his lips curving into a cruel smile—revealing the man who came to me in my darkest hour. The one I trusted with every fiber of my being, the one that made me comealivefor the first time in years. I let out a wail of despair, screaming like I’ve never screamed before.

“The answer you were looking for is Damon.” His expression darkens. “I would say it’s nice to meet you, but you won’t be knowing me for much longer.”

I let out a blood-curdling shriek, my entire world shattering in an instant as I process his words. “It’s been you all along!” I flail my legs, but he’s straddling my hips, his weight keeping me trapped. “You killed them all! Invaded my home, mylife! And that night—you were there, in my room …” Anger surges through my veins as I screech my voice raw.

He places a finger on my lips. “Quiet now,” he admonishes, his voice almost sounding seductive if it weren’t for the circumstances. “No need to be so loud.”

“Fuck you, Damon. You’re a fucking monster! Go to?—”

My defiant words die in my throat as he sinks his blade into my flesh, just below my collarbone. I scream as pain sears my chest. He cups my chin, forcing me to look at him. His face is emotionless and calculating as he pulls out the knife and stabs me again, this time in my abdomen.

I wail as he withdraws the blade. “You’ll never get away with this,” I say through sobs.

He strokes my bottom lip with his thumb in a mocking show of affection, then leans down to whisper in my ear. “I already have.”

I feel his hot breath against my skin as he impales me again. Then again. And again.

It isn’t long before I lose consciousness.

I wake up with a startle.

But the adrenaline is short-lived. I slump back against the porcelain of the tub, surrounded by red water. My heartbeat is abnormal, too slow. Trying to inhale, I manage only a shuddering, shallow breath. There’s something in my mouth, a bitter aftertaste I don’t recognize at first. As I lift my wrist, my blood freezes at the sight of the vertical, parted flesh of my forearms.

“Careful,” a man cautions. “Don’t think you’ll last much longer if you keep moving around like that.”

Sluggishly, I connect the dots in my lethargic mind. “Damon,” I slur, turning my head to see him perched atop the toilet. “Am I dying?”

He nods. “Are you scared?” he asks quietly.

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