Page 44 of Little Psycho

But I have to wait.If I do too many so close together, I could easily get caught, and that’s the last thing that I want to happen.The last thing I need is to be locked away in another prison for the rest of my life, especially since I just escaped one.

I hurriedly take my medication, quietly slipping into the bathroom to get ready for bed.My body hurts in ways it only used to when I was chained to my bed, so it’s confusing.I sit on the edge of the bathtub and glance around, taking in the contents of Five’s bathroom.And as I undress for the night, my eyes land on something shiny on the shelf above the toilet, a smile creeping across my face.

Standing up, I reach for the razor, my hand shaking.Once I feel the cold blade in the palm of my hand, some of the stress inside me begins to dissipate.But not all of it.

Pulling on a pair of boy-short underwear, I slip into a long t-shirt to cover the top half of my body and then sit back down on the edge of the tub.Holding my breath, I spread my legs and put the razor to the inside of my thigh, swiping deeply.The moment I see blood running down my leg like a river, I smile, feeling like a weight has lifted off my chest, grateful to be able to breathe again.

“Why, Cali?You haven’t cut yourself since we’ve been gone.”Addy shakes her head, a look of disappointment washing over her face.

But I don’t care.I cut again and again, tearing apart my scarred flesh just to create new ones.As the blood flows, I drop the blade and slide down onto the floor, my head against the wall.Closing my eyes, I ignore everything around me, even Addy, and focus on my breathing while a slight burning spreads across my skin from the cuts.

The sound of the TV in the other room grows faint as my thoughts become consumed by a dark, unpredictable fog.My mind is a whirlwind of chaos—a never-ending cycle of pain, fear, and hopelessness.I’m unable to escape the overwhelming sense of unease that courses through me, no matter how hard I try.

As the warm, sticky blood oozes from the flesh wounds, I feel as though I am finally free from the chains of my past.The pain is a welcomed distraction—a temporary escape from the torment that plagues my mind.It’s my way of taking control, of finding solace in the darkness that engulfs me.

Addy’s voice fades into the background, her words lost in the static noise that echoes in my head.My reality is warped, consumed by the darkness inside of me, clinging to the comfort of the pain and its familiar embrace.

But deep down, I know that this isn’t the answer.I need to find another way to silence the demons that haunt me.But for now, in this moment, the comforting sting of the razor against my skin is all I have, and for the time being, that’s enough.

EIGHTEEN

HUNTING

BREATHE—KANSH

ASH

The buzzing of the tattoo gun pierces my ears, cutting right through the fucked-up thoughts bombarding my already deranged mind.As I sit here in the chair at the shop, Dom carving into my skin with a handful of needles, I can’t stop thinking about what we did to Calista in the alley.

Did she know it was us?It was obvious, right?

I shake my head, trying to think of something else, but it’s fucking impossible.But when Dom’s phone rings, forcing him to stop in the middle of my tattoo, I pull my focus off the shit in my head and onto him, finally.The look on his face tells me that something is wrong—he only gets that look when his father calls.

He nods every so often, muttering a single syllable word and nothing more.The lack of color painting his face tells me that I should be worried about what’s being said on the other end.My palms sweat.My heart pounds.My wild pulse thumps in my ears.I hold my breath until he hangs up the phone, exhaling slowly, a dizzy spell smacking me across the face.

“What was that all about?”I nervously ask, wiping my hands on my pants.

“They’re on their way over,” he states grimly.“There’s been another murder, and they think Calista did it.”

My blood turns to molasses at the mention of another murder, and for some reason, guilt begins to claw at my insides.Did she really do it?Or is it just a coincidence?I ask, thinking back to what we did to her in the alley.

As Dom finishes my tattoo, I can’t shake the feeling of dread that has settled in the pit of my stomach.The buzzing of his tattoo gun no longer provides the relief it was, now that we’re awaiting the arrival of our fathers—nothing can make this feeling go away.

I glance up at Dom, his expression mirroring my own fear and uncertainty.We sit in silence, both terribly lost in our own fucked-up thoughts, wondering if we’re going to be next on Calista’s list.Before we can dwell on the inevitable any longer, the sound of sirens wailing in the distance fills the air, sending chills down my spine.

“Who was it this time?”I ask Dom, finally breaking the unbearable silence.

As he pulls out a baggie of coke and a few blue pain pills, I get up and lock the door to the shop, knowing we can’t have any distractions.

“Bailey, the fucking police chief in Brockton.”He does a quick bump and passes me the baggie and rolled-up bill, popping a few more pills like they’re fucking candy.

“It’s got to be her.He was one of the fuckers who went to every party of hers that her mother threw, just like that fucking councilman or whatever he was.”I shake my head in disbelief, slightly fearing for my life but too afraid to fucking admit it.

If she’s working through a list of all the men who hurt her, there’s no fucking doubt our names are somewhere on it too… which means we’re not as safe as we all thought we were.Calista may be a little thing, but she’s fucking scorned, and scorned women do some crazy, fucked-up shit.

“Do you think she’ll kill us too?”Dom asks, lowering his voice and cautiously looking out the shop’s tinted windows.

“Why wouldn’t she?We’re no fucking better than they ae.If anything, we’re worse, Dom.She trusted us.She loved us at one point, and all we did was fuck her over and hurt her in the worst possible way.”I do a thick bump, feeling my nostril go numb instantly.Sniffing in, the bitter mixed powder shoots down the back of my nose, dripping down my throat and numbing it too.“We’re fucked.”

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