Page 116 of The Guy Next Door

I’m expecting him to have a wild look in his eyes, but he seems subdued. There’s something disarming about his presence, even with everything happening before me. I can imagine how easy it was for a guy like this to lure Mike or Jason with that sort of calm demeanor.

“I didn’t plan to kill Jason. I enjoyed seeing him around campus. I think a lot of people enjoyed seeing that beautiful man. And he was so kind and curious about the world. I thought I was attracted to him, but as time went on, I knew it was something else. I wanted power over him. Not just once either. I wanted to make him wholly and totally mine. And so I did. But every time I was with him, I felt guilty afterward. I knew itwas wrong. Monsters don’t know that, do they? I swore I would never hurt another soul. Promised it to God. And then I saw Mike…and the impulse came again. I fought it. I know you have no reason to believe me, but I did. I don’t want to hurt anyone, Leif. I’d think you and Zane of all people would understand that this is something in me, like your depression or Zane’s bipolar disorder. A switch flips, and then I’m stuck having to act on these urges.”

“You could get help for that; you don’t have to hurt anybody.”

He chuckles. “But both of you know how hard it is to get help once you snap. No, this thing has me. But I’m as much of a victim as Mike or Jason. Or you or Zane.”

The way he says it, it’s clear he’s already made up his mind. We’re his next victims. But there’s a plea in his expression, like he wants understanding, sympathy even, for what he plans to do to us.

“Outside of this,” he adds, “I really am a very good man.”

Although, he must know, even if this were his only fault, it disqualifies him from being that.

Isaac stares me down for a few moments longer. “I said come on in.”

Again, his words are so gentle, so contradictory to what’s happening. Almost lulls me into a false sense of security—but onlyalmostas a series of hellish imaginings from true-crime TV shows flash through my mind.

I could still run.

I can still make that choice.

Leave Zane and call the cops.

But what if he kills Zane? Or what if he tries to take him somewhere? I could follow him, but what if I lost them? What if I was left wondering where he was, the way Zane was left wondering about Mike? I might as well be fucking dead. And this isn’t just about Zane and me. If I stay, Zane and I can dietogether. At least then the cops might have a chance of finding our bodies and seeing who did this to us before he finds his next victim.

I take a breath, then step over the threshold. I’ve made my decision.

Maybe it’s not the right one. Maybe this is the dumbest fucking thing I could do right now.

But I don’t give a fuck.

I can’t leave Zane here with this psycho. Iwon’tleave him.

I know he disagrees. I can tell as he continues pleading with me from behind his gag.

Isaac licks his lips and glances me over, like he’s sizing me up. He orders me to step away from him, move farther into the room, to the foot of Zane’s bed. I obey, and when I’m where he wants me, he says, “Take off your shirt.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

I look to Zane, whose eyes are shooting daggers at Isaac.

Maybe this will buy us some time. Or get him to let his guard down enough that I can at least make a go at him.

Or it will just end as it’s most likely to end.

I remove my shirt and toss it on the bed.

Isaac’s gaze travels over me; it’s as though it’s burning into my goddamn flesh.

Goose bumps prick across my arms as the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

He licks his lips again and approaches.

“Now your pants.”

I can’t do this and look at Zane.

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