Page 1 of Soul of a Psycho

Prologue

Cade

No one grows up with the intention of becoming evil.

No one ever thinks they will kill someone—or many someones.

You can’t anticipate it. Unless, of course, you are diagnosed as a psychopath. But I’ve managed to keep the most sinister parts of myself well concealed from my psychiatrist.

So, for all I know, I could be one.

I’ve never killed anyone before, though.

But I could.

And I will.

I will kill them all.

Soon.

Chapter One

Sky

There’s something uncomfortable about spending three months caged in my bedroom and then being thrust into a dorm. The distant blare of a train horn, the rattling radiator, and my new roommate—who I haven’t met yet—snoring softly across the way. None of these are the sounds I’ve become cruelly accustomed to, and each one feels violating to my psyche.

The ceiling, with its domed point and lattice beams, does not have the cold slants I stared at night after night, and the moon feels like it’s shining from the wrong part of the sky. There was comfort in my own bedroom, even if I was a prisoner, and I don’t know if I should be relieved that my father finally let me out, or angry that this is where he sent me.

I knew he was tyrannical, but this seems like the epitome of sending a woman away to an insane asylum for being hysterical when really all she has is her period. The gates to this place might have said Hillcrest Academy, but I think I know exactly what his intentions were when he transferred me here.

I clench my teeth to stop the tears, hating how small they make me feel and then hating that it’s him who made me think tears make a person small. I don’t want to be the person he’sshaping me into. There’s nothing that sounds worse. And that’s saying something since Chase—

I shake my head and quickly sit up, heart jumping. I can’t go there. I can’t. Not right now. I flip off my new blanket—compliments of my mother—and slip out of the hastily made bed. I scramble to think of something else. Anything else. But the dark feels too similar to a movie theater and… and… Do I smell popcorn? I rip into my still-packed bag. I need a sweater. I need to get out of here.

I flinch when my new birth control clatters onto the hollow wood floors—compliments of my father—and I whip my gaze to the sleeping girl. I only got here two hours ago, under the cover of night, and it wouldn’t be great to get started by pissing off my new roommate. Thankfully, she doesn’t stir, her pale blonde bob splayed out on a pillow. I notice her brows are furrowed on her cherub-like face, and that she must be having a nightmare.

I know how that feels.

I quietly stuff the pills back in my bag, pull on the sweater, and sneak out of the room without shoes. I don’t know where I’m planning to go, but it’s all justtoo muchafter so long oftoo little.

I tiptoe into the hallway and eye the dimly lit sconces that line the walls. They look as if they at one point used to have candles adorning them and they barely illuminate an ornate forest green wallpaper trimmed in gold. It’s a far cry from the modern steel and cold slabs of white marble back home.

With a shudder, I realize Hillcrest isold, and I look behind me at the long corridor. Its depth eats the weak scones and casts shadows that prickle something unsettling down my spine. I wrap my sweater tighter and quickly pad towards the stairs, hoping to get away from anyone who might be shrouded in the darkness.

It’s four flights of ice-cold iron, and by the time I reach the main floor my feet have gone numb. I’m not really sure if I’msupposed to be out of my room at this hour. I didn’t read the academic standards booklet and instead just signed my name and thrust it at my father. That earned me the familiar flare of ire in his eyes, the one that typically meant my scalp would be raw from where he fisted my hair. But a driver was already waiting for me, and I took my chances. I did get away with it, but in the end, my small act of defiance accomplished nothing. He won. He always wins.

I huff as I come to the main floor of Lamb Hall. It’s laid out like an old sitting room, with wing-back chairs and sofas arranged around ancient rugs. The accents of maroon complement the forest green walls, and while everything looks like it should have centuries of dust, it’s immaculate.

The small ball of constant panic in my chest blooms again. I don’t belong here, at a boarding school with all its creepy shadows and preserved opulence. I don’t want to be a doll, tucked away in a glass case for my father to show off. I want to be free. And I was so, so close.

Tears prick my eyes as I hurry towards the main doors, mourning the money he took and the years I spent tucking it away. I try to suck in the chilled air, letting my gaze run over the quadrant of cobblestone and up the bronze statue in the center. But the endless windows of the buildings surround me and the spires taunt me. That money was all I had, especially after… No. I can’t think about that. I force myself to find the sky—my namesake—and breathe. The lavender clouds drag across the night blue and I breathe. Just breathe.

After a moment, I finally get a hold of myself, not liking that I almost spiraled. That wouldn’t be very graceful of me. And I have to be graceful. I sigh at the automatic thought and hang my head. My bare feet stare back at me, and I begrudgingly note that being out here in the middle of the night isn’t very becoming either.

I want to scream. I want to disrupt the oppressive quiet and shake the trees. But I resist. There probably is a rule against being out right now, and I don’t need to get in trouble. Feeling a little suspicious, I look around for a camera or a teacher that might get me caught. If this gets back to my—

My heart stutters.

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