Page 63 of Soul of a Psycho

I make my way around the bonfire, tugging up the hood on my cloak as I go. The last thing I want to do is even acknowledge Bentley’s existence, let alone need something from him. But fucking Ruby would have Sky shoved in his idiotic path if I don’t grin and bear this.

Off to the edge of the clearing, Bentley tosses a bottle into the dark woods behind him and snatches another from a guy dressed as a lamb. Alamb. There must be five-hundred packs of cotton balls glued to his clothes. Shaking my head, I take a deep breath, hand already clenching one of the knives Sky gave back to me.

I hadn’t told her that I had already strapped myself with replacements the first chance I got, not when she handed them over to me with an apology for taking them in the first place. I couldn’t wrap my head around the idea that she was the one apologizing tomeafter what I had done. I didn’t get out a word before I pulled her against me, too warmed by the sentiment.

I put my head down, letting the hood hide my face as I step into Bentley’s space. The strong scent of hair gel drowns out the burning firewood and instantly makes my eye twitch. I need to get this over with before I crack. I wave the cash in his face, hoping he’s not too shitfaced and that I don’t have to use my voice. I cringe, knowing this piece of shit is going to touch something that was in Sky’s bra, but I don’t have a choice. I don’t carry cash. I make a note to stop at the bank the next time I check the P.O. box so I can give Sky back her money. There’s no way I’m letting Ruby force Sky into buying her weed. Me? Fine. Not Sky.

“Ah,” Bentley speaks, setting my teeth on edge. “What do we have here?”

He plucks the money from my hand, and I hear the bills shuffle as he counts it.

“What do you need? I got molly, xannies, adder—” He burps. “—all.”

He shifts around in his pockets, and I watch as his feet stumble in my line of sight.

“Weed,” I say under my breath.

“Speak up, dickwad. Can’t hear shit over the music.”

I take a long inhale of hair gel and crack my neck. “Weed,” I say again, this time louder. This time with a growl.

His hands stop searching his pockets, and even though I can’t see his face, I know he’s paused to take me in.

“Cade Haven.”

My name out of his mouth takes me back to sophomore year, and begrudgingly, I raise my chin, the blood in my veins turning to black sludge. I was hoping to avoid a confrontation, but unfortunately, I’m not going to have the willpower. Just the sight of his spiked hair has me edging the blade from its sheath. I have managed to avoid him for a solid two years. Making sure our schedules didn’t overlap, taking the longer routes on campus,and never eating in the dining hall. But it wasn’t in an effort to protect myself. No, it was for his protection. It was the only way to prevent myself from seeking revenge too soon.

“Wow.” He claps a hand on my shoulder, and I tense. “I think I can still smell it.”

I know where this is going. I know it, and it takes every ounce of restraint in me to let go of the knife before he finishes this charade. Because if I don’t, I will kill him. I will gut him in front of everyone. There will be screams as I hang his intestines around my neck. Chaos will break out, a stampede, and Sky will be lost in it.

I can’t have that.

“Smell what?” The lamb sniffs stupidly, playing into this motherfucker’s game.

Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t say it.

“My piss all over him.”

He said it.

Red burns in my irises as I dip out of his hold and smash my elbow into his face. There’s a crunch from his nose, a hot splatter of blood on my cheek. I fucking knew I wasn’t going to be able to keep it together.

I can’t even give him a chance to cup his nose, enjoying his gargled squawk too much, and instead take his bent over posture as an opportunity. I ram my knee into his chest. He goes to fall backwards, and grabbing him by the shoulders, I do it again, and again and—

“Hey! Holy shit, man, let—” the lamb starts but stops when I turn my head towards him.

I throw Bentley into him, sending them both to the ground and knocking over the card table beside them. My chest is heaving, my vision spotting. I can barely see the lamb scramble to get up, abandoning his friend. I blink, trying to clear the black stars, but all I see are white tiles. Yellow puddles. Dirty shoes.

I charge forward and grab Bentley by his collar, dragging him up just to drive him back down with my fist. His teeth split my knuckles on impact, clipping on my bones, snagging on my tendons with every subsequent blow. But I can’t stop. Not even as his eyes close and don’t open again. Not even with the circle forming around us. The rage is consuming me, burning me from the inside, and even as my stamina runs low, it still wants more.

Through a pinprick of vision, I spot the can of lighter fluid knocked over beside us. Without thinking, I lunge for it, clasping a bloody hand around it, dragging it towards me through the dirt. I pant as I push to my feet and flip the cap.

The smell is noxious as I squirt it onto Bentley’s unconscious body. I squeeze out every last drop and crush the can in my fist before tossing it and turning towards the fire.

Chapter Forty-Three

Sky

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