Page 23 of Soul of a Psycho

“Did you hear me?!”

“Yes,” he mumbles, and the lack of response in his tone makes me want to throw my fist at the wall.

I grind my teeth as he gets up, and I watch him collect his books. He’s taking his sweet time, and I know that while he heard me, he didn’t actuallyhearme. Everyone else keeps a wide berth from me without me even having to say anything, but Bobby is like a puppy that can’t be trained. I should just slam him against the wall, show him what he’s trying to befriend. Maybe if I broke his jaw like I did Caleb’s, he would learn to stop following me around.

I’m contemplating it as he grabs our trash. He picks up the empty paper bag, a soda can, and even someone else’s discarded water bottle lid. What in fuck’s name? I can’t stop the strangled growl that comes up from my chest in warning.

“Sustainability starts with sanitation,” he says in response, shrugging as if I’m not about to kill him.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I snap.

“It’s from a documentary I watched. Littering is bad for the planet.”

Holy. Shit. I just told him to basically go fuck himself, and yet he’s lamenting about the environment? I squeeze my eyes shut and try to find my patience before I get charged with murder prematurely. You would think that after all these years, I would have the patience of a monk, but every ounce I possess goes towards one thing, and I barely have any left to prevent myself from cracking right now.

I’m thrumming, absolutely vibrating, with rage as I open my eyes and see him tucking the trash into the paper bag. If he doesn’t leave, I’m going to lose it.

He straightens and avoids my gaze, which is smart on his part, and finally starts to lope away. I take a much needed breath, releasing the knife I didn’t realize I was clutching in my pocket, and relax a bit.

Fuck, that was close.

But then he suddenly stops and turns back. “So, same spot tomorrow?”

Chapter Sixteen

Cade

The night is still as I flick my blade open and closed, open and closed. I’m sitting with my back to the sycamore tree in front of Lamb Hall, examining each of the one-hundred windows for an inkling to which is Sky’s.

There’s enough leaf coverage overhead that the moon doesn’t hit me, and with my hood up, no one would notice me, even if they were looking. Which is to my benefit, considering I don’t know what tonight will hold and if I shouldn’t have eye witnesses.

Sky should be on the fourth floor as a senior, but she was a week late. She could have been placed anywhere. I tried to resist doing this, but I can’t let it go. I need to know where she lays her head, andwhoshe lays it next to.

She told me on the drive back from Angel Point that her roommate was the cause of her accident, and it’s been eating at me all day. Sky may have limited time, but that time doesn’t have to resemble anything like what I’ve been through, if I have a say in it.

I push up with impatience and make my way to the doors of Lamb Hall, unable to quell my wrath any longer. I don’t know how I’m supposed to find out which room is hers besides peeking in each one, but I will, if that’s what it takes. The brasshandle turns easily, and I slip inside. There’s no such thing as privacy at Hillcrest. It all hangs on the expectation of respect, which is laughable considering respect is nonexistent here. I could look down on it, but I bury it for the moment. I’m not exactly respecting any boundaries myself right now.

The main floor is a mausoleum of darkness, with not even the moon being able to penetrate the caked windows. But it’s to my advantage, and after years of being in the woods, my eyes easily adjust. My boots pad quietly on the staple red carpet of all the dormitories, and I make my way up to the fourth floor.

It’s my best shot.

The senior corridor is empty, but I tug my hood down just in case. Any one of these girls could decide they have to pee, and then their screams would wake the rest like a domino effect. I steady my breathing and stick to the walls, so the floors don’t creak beneath me, and start my hunt.

The first door on my right is well oiled and doesn’t squeak as I crack it open. Two clueless mounds sleep soundly, but I can’t make out if either of them is Sky. I tentatively push the door open farther and slink inside.

The room smells like artificial lavender. It’s not appealing, and I don’t understand how they sleep with it. I hold my breath and stalk closer until the moonlight reveals neither girl has blonde hair. I didn’t think I would get lucky on the first room, but I frown anyway and back out.

After eight rooms, I’ve learned that girls are a mess. I sleep in a shack, but at least it has order. These girls have clothes strewn about with half eaten snacks at the foot of their beds and little waste bins overflowing. Yet, all of them are none the wiser to my presence, completely unaware that someone with the gall to smother them in their sleep looms over them.

Not that I would do that.

I have a better fate for them planned out.

I’m just about to think Sky isn’t on the fourth floor when I reach the twentieth room and spot golden hair. My heart kicks in my chest at the sight of her, and I pull the door closed behind me. I don’t know what I’m going to do yet, but I know I don’t want anyone to see me in here.

I don’t move forward right away, quickly losing sight of why I’m doing this in the first place, and instead stand dumbly, mesmerized by her. The way her hair splays out around her, the slight part of her full lips, and the carefree way she sleeps has my breath coming in short bursts. Jesus, why is she so special?

I just examined almost forty other girls, and none of them stirred me this way. I know she can’t be any different from the rest. She just can’t. But what if I’m wrong? That would derail everything, and I can’t have that.

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