Page 63 of Twist Me

Because it was the right thing to do.

Emmy was my only friend, and she was spending more and more time lately with her sister. Lenny wasn’t doing well. The doctors at the asylum said she wouldn’t make it much longer, but no one could answer why.

If the brothers were intent on icing me out, I had to try to do my job, at least. Pharaoh was never the cuddliest, and before my hand even moved to the screen in front of me, I felt a wave of unease at uncovering this particular mystery.

Lifting up the front of the laptop, I typed in the search bar “Ariah Morgan.”

A huge memorial page of friends and family on a social media site was the first entry to pull up. A picture of Pharaoh and her with their sweet little girl was still the image displayed for the world to see. It was odd seeing Pharaoh in this photo.

He looked…happy.

His smile was beautiful, and he truly seemed peaceful, holding his daughter and soon-to-be wife in front of a gorgeous house. It appeared as if they lived the perfect life, and the love on their faces was so potent that I needed to understand how that perfect world shattered.

Her obituary was littered with the same vague bullshit about a murderous stalker, but then something interesting caught my eye.

“She was a therapist for Hospital Twelve?”

Emmy jumped a mile high in the seat next to me.

“Girl…if you don’t stop yelling randomly, I’m going to need more sessions from my therapist for anxiety. Holy Christians, Jesus, Lord crosses Buddha…”

I giggled at Emmy. Hearing her spouting every religious thing she could think of when she was a tried-and-true witch was adorable, and I loved her more for it. I grew up so sheltered by my parents’ religion that I never knew anything more could exist apart from being Catholic.

Emmy was teaching me some spells.

One was even a hypnosis spell. It wasn’t like the crap you see in movies, but my brain felt muffled, like I was unable to disobey her when she told me to blow out a candle.

My body felt possessed, unable to pull my mind from her suggestions, and the creepiest part of it all was that Emmy hadn’t even touched me once or said a word. She just stared at me, and suddenly, I was walking over to a stand to blow out a candle.

“We have to talk to the admin office and see if we can learn more about Doctor Morgan before she died,” I stated, already closing the laptop and grabbing my bag of books I had collected over the past week.

“Ya know, it may be easier to cross your boobs for luck and go speak to his fiancée,” Emmy jibed, smiling sweetly at my glare.

She backed away with her hands up before spying on Pharoah and yelling, “Roe! Zelle needs you!”

My eyes widened, and I went to chase her, but she dodged my attack and skipped over to a very annoyed Pharoah Masters.

“Tell her ‘bout your dead baby mama, ‘kay?” Emmy said. I was going to murder that woman, but she skipped away before I had the chance. “‘Kay, byeeee.”

Pharoah got within touching distance. His large frame, muscular body, and wavy brown hair all showed his pissed-off status.

“What do you want, pig?”

I squared my shoulders.

“Look, I’m sorry that you were lied to. I only wanted to help this place, and I’m still trying to help you and your brothers. I think I found a big piece of the puzzle regarding your late fiancée.”

He narrowed his eyes and leaned down to my eye level, his spicy scent invading my senses and bringing me back to the carnival…

“I…uh…”

Pushing against me where his body touched mine, he said, “Go on, little traitor, ask your questions.”

Clearing my throat, I shoved his body away from me.

“How long had Ariah worked here before she died?”

Pharoah cracked his knuckles, his anger resurfacing and his lust cooling.

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