Page 104 of Soul of a Psycho

I freeze as I take in the crates and their contents.

Bombs.

Almost a hundred of them.

Stacked on top of each other like some sort of weapons bunker.

I gulp back the ball of dread in my throat, the sound sickening in the isolated shack, and a wheeze escapes me as I thud to my knees. They look exactly like the drawing from his journal. But there’s so many. Why are there so many? Tears prick my eyes, and I grip my stomach. I sway and grasp onto the desk right before I face-plant.

But there’s no air in here. My chest tightens as I gasp, each breath coming in more shallow than the last. And too fast. My lungs are chasing oxygen they can’t get. My head spins, the room blurs, but the more I try to focus, the more I think about the bombs and the smaller the space becomes. Desperately, I crawl on my hands and knees through the mess and towards the door. It’s not until my palms hit the cool soil that I can suck in a breath, and with it, I shudder.

* * *

The dirt has become my friend. I know this dirt. I know every granule and speck and each tiny hill and valley. I studied it, committed it to memory in my desperate attempt to calm myself. Parts of it have bitten into my knees and hands, left impressions that will stay with me for the rest of my life. Because I haven’t moved. Haven’t dared to even think. There’s just been dirt, and that’s all. There’s been no me. No Cade. No Hillcrest or futures. No questions or theories. But now the world is seeping back in, slowly and in order.

Starting with that first night. The night he said he was trying to protect me.From him. When he gave me stitches and Icalled him sadistic, he responded that I had no idea. When he held a knife to Ruby, he said I wouldn’t have a lifewithhim. And then later he said he would spare Ruby if I wanted. Spare her from…this? And Callie. He sounded so sure on Halloween night that Callie wouldn’t be going to university. Why wouldn’t she? That same night, he said I was unraveling everything he’s been working towards. Are the bombs what he’s been working towards? He talks about death, not like it’s inevitable, but like it’s right around the corner. And the French he used,live before we die. Are we dying? In the woods, he made me promise that I would remember that he didn’t want to hurt me. Is it because I’m included in whatever plans he has for the bombs? And Ruby. And Callie. And… he said he just needed to make it to graduation.

I shove up from the dirt, my bones aching at the fast movement, and rush back into the shack. I don’t know how long I was panicking, but I can’t have much time left. I rip apart the shack, not caring if he knows I was here, looking for the journal.

I fling the teddy bears aside, not sure I want to know why he hasthose, and sift through text books. Papers litter the already crowded floor. I stomp on them as I pull open the little drawers next to the bed. I’m met with a cacophony of knives—daggers, switchblades, and throwing knives. Luckily, I don’t have to reach my hand in, because right on top is the little black journal.

I grab it, shut the drawer, and quickly leave. I make a left, getting ten paces before I realize I’ve started the wrong way.Shit.I spin around, hoping I don’t bump into Cade on the way out of the woods. A nervous laugh leaves me. Funny. All this time I’ve wanted to see him, and now I desperately need tonotsee him. I don’t know what he would do if he caught me with the journal. Not now, not with him being on edge.

I feel like I’m on the edge too, and the ground suddenly feels too level under my shoes. I give it a quick glance, to make sureI haven’t floated away into panic territory, and realize the dirt is smooth. I turn in a circle, confused why this dirt, this dirt that Iknow, is compacted unlike the rest. A trail leads behind me, as if something was dragged through the soil. I grit my teeth in exasperation. I don’t have time. I really don’t. But what the hell could this be? Bigger bombs? Is there even such a thing?

With a quick check over my shoulder, I start to follow it. I have to know if there’s anything else that I’ve been blind to. I keep a brisk pace, eyes on the ground and the journal clutched to my chest, while an unease twists in my stomach. After five minutes, I want to turn back, not sure how much farther this makeshift trail goes. But as much as I start to shiver under the canopy of branches, something draws me forward. An invisible string is tugging me, urging me,whispering.

No, there actually is whispering. I stop and peer through the trees, further ahead. The marks in the soil continue around a mossy berm, and I pick my way towards it, careful not to snap any twigs as the voice gets louder.

“She’s trying to do the right thing, but it’s too late.”

My breath catches as I peek around the bramble and spot Cade. He’s sitting on the ground, rooting around inside the belly of a teddy bear, talking to himself. How did he—? I could have sworn his car wasn’t in the parking lot. Has he been out here the whole time?

My heart swells at the sight of him. I haven’t seen him since the day he told me to leave him alone, and whether he’s being deranged or not, he’s still achingly gorgeous. A few of his dark stands graze his jaw, accentuating the sharp cut of his features. He’s every bit as—

“No, I’m not,”he continues. “Do you know what it would do to her if she had to live with it? I can’t do that to her. She may have made bad choices, but she’s still my mother.” He pauses, asif waiting for the other side of an imaginary conversation. “No, death is a gift. We’ll all see that soon.”

I scan the area around him to make sure he’s not actually talking to someone, when I notice the pile of dirt next to him.

“I said I was sorry about that.” He sighs and glances at the mound. “I didn’t have control of what I was doing. But I won’t be far behind you, buddy. Don’t worry. Your soul won’t be here alone. I’m going to stay with you, Bobby.”

Bobby?! I quickly clasp a hand over my mouth, choking on the gasp that wants to pour from my lips. I stare at the mound, at thegrave, and let the tears blur my vision, let the reality sink in. Because I know. I can feel it.

Bobby is dead.

And Cade killed him.

Chapter Seventy-One

Sky

Ispent ten agonizing nights going through Cade’s journal and trying to tell myself what I saw wasn’t real. I wasted time when time is a luxury for people who aren’t attending a graduation rigged with explosives. But now, as I stand in front of the administration building, it feels painfully real.

Tucked into my bag is his journal and the note that ‘Bobby’ wrote to Callie. I stole it out of her room two days ago, and the handwriting is definitely Cade’s. I held it and held it again, against his journal, in disbelief. The flourish on certain letters is uncanny, and even the pen might be the same—where sometimes the ink is smudged from not drying.

It’s late afternoon and I idle on the steps, imagining Cade’s mother having a calm day at her desk. Does she have any idea? Am I about to blow up her world? But graduation is in four days, and I can’t put this off any longer. I climb a step, gripping the rail with white knuckles, and try to take a breath. I tried to do this days before, but I ended up never making it out of my room. And now that I’ve made it this far, my reluctance has only doubled.

I picture SWAT swarming the school. I imagine they would cordon me off under some tent while I try to help them locate the shack. The tent would probably be somewhere in town because the campus would have to be evacuated.

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