Page 5 of Under Fyre

When the room becomes too gloomy, I switch on the nightstand lamp.

A little while later, I hear the sound of a key in the lock.

My heart climbs up my throat again. I shove myself into a sit, clutching the blankets to my throat as the door swings open.

Chapter Four

Fyre

Iturn a page in my notebook, my jaw tight, my eyes burning. I’ve been up all night. I know every word by heart. But I can’t stop. My compulsion isn’t always directed at people. At my little Charlotte. Sometimes it overflows into other aspects of my life.

I turn the page. It’s blank. Instantly, my thumb digs into the gap between the hard leather cover and the first page, flipping me back to the start.

Four years ago I bought this notebook. Four years, and I’ve only filled half of its pages.

Pathetic.

I’m highly intelligent, bordering on genius, and this is all I have to show for my work?

The pages flip. My own neat script flows over the lines, relaying graphic details of sexual assault. But I have the emotional attachment to these words that I would to a newspaper article about the success of a neighborhood blood drive.

I’ve been planning Charlotte’s stay for months. If I’m honest with myself, perhaps since I first opened her file. I always review my student’s therapy notes before the new semester begins—that way I know what trauma led to their PTSD.

The moment I read Charlotte’s therapy notes, I knew that she’d hold a special place in my heart.

That tragic, heart-wrenching experience with Peter. The sheer amount of therapists she went through before reaching me. How much her personality was affected by Peter’s abuse.

Her situation is a challenging one, but I am adamant that I can give her the fairy tale ending she never dreamed would be possible.

If she can trust me.

If she canforgiveme.

I’m not perfect. My mind is fractured. Sticking to my plan has proved a special kind of torture.

But I want to be with her. I want her to explore my house, to play with Arrow, to stand in the kitchen with me while I cook.

Not yet.

There’s a correct sequence of events, and I can’t afford to let myself skip certain steps.

Not like I did a few months ago, when I lost control. When I broke into her home.

Murdering Peter Monroe was my way of asking for her forgiveness. For proving my worth to her…but I’m not sure whether she’s accepted my apology yet.

So I had to change my plan.

I had to go back to the beginning. Start fresh.

When you get a new puppy, experienced owners know to crate it. It’s natural—exactly what the mother would do in the wild. She makes sure the puppy is comfortable with its new world before letting it wander from its den.

She ensures it knows therules.

Without rules, the world would be in a worse state than it already is. A dystopian nightmare where the strongest are king.

In a way, it already is.

But I believe there will be a reckoning. Not beyond the grave, but inthislife. Some monsters do get away with murder—literally—but if everyone does their part, justice will ultimately be served.

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