Page 18 of Ruthless Kings of Obsession

At least, it can only be as menacing as it is if my psychotic love is alive.

For if he isn’t…

“They will pay if he’s dead.”

There it is.

The voice.

Or maybe it’s voices.

I’ve been trying not to acknowledge the woman speaking to me. Reminding me of our game plan. She’s emotionless. Soundslike me but without a pinch of tone. Just a void that yearns for my mental acknowledgment.

To whisper the demise of every person with a beating heart who dares harm what I call mine.

We allowed it to happen once.

When I found a set of parents who smiled back at me with so much pride.

There were no loose ends back then. Nothing to prove of gain with my happiness and success. Just witnessing my recovery…witnessing the act of prevailing whenever I could show them my accomplishments, made them smile so fucking wide.

Happy.

I was happy.

Until it all burned down.

“He’s the puppet hiding the puppeteer. He deserves to be on his knees. Begging for our rise. Yearning for our redemption!”

It’s hard to comprehend what the voices are trying to say.

Redemption? Begging? What does it all mean?

"This is the beginning of our rise. To claim vengeance at the peak of our sinister glory. The world will see. They’ll all be forced to see. Bully the innocent and watch them taint into wicked vessels. They want a Ruthless Queen. They’ll enjoy meeting the one who will rise and claim it all.”

I remain limp in the leather chair they've strapped me to, head lolled to one side as if unconscious. The restraints are tight enough to bite into my skin, but that pain helps keep my mind sharp.

"Fix this!" Domino's voice cracks with hysteria. I can tell he’s pacing before me because his footsteps are on their own rampage, as though walking any faster would reverse the damage done.The damage I’ve caused. "Fix this NOW!"

The sound of his expensive shoes clicking against concrete echoes through what I assume is a warehouse. Has to be somewhere abandoned where no one will think much about about. Must be at least far from Leighton University. Far from any of their establishments.

An untraceable, abandoned place that’s off the grid.

The air smells of motor oil and rust — an industrial space only used for heinous murders that have yet to be solved. Will I be one of those victims? Murdered and dumped here until years go by and my remains trigger an investigation that finds many others who suffered the same fate?

Just stay still. Listen. Learn.

"Do you see this shit?!" He's practically screaming at his phone now. "It's everywhere! Twitter, Instagram, fucking ESPN! 'Leighton Hockey Star Exposed in Sex Scandal'. They're calling me a murderer!"

It’s hard to not smile at that revelation.

To see how fast social media works in my favor. I knew it would spread like wildfire, but to reach ESPN proves how big of a deal all of this is.

Perfect.

A harsh laugh comes through the speaker — distorted, mechanical.

The masked voice I've heard before in my nightmares.

---