Page 114 of The Psychopath Next Door

She was what Dylan said she was.

Oh God.

I didn’t know what to do. It was too much. But when I blinked, all I could see was a series of images:

Emma’s body slumped on the ground.

The blood on Rose’s hands.

And then, absolutely as clear as the others, images of things that hadn’t happened yet:

Dylan, a knife sticking out of his chest.

Rose, coming for me, eyes bright and wide, the glint of a blade as she slashed at the air between us.

Then back to Dylan, dead eyes open, staring at me, accusing, blaming:I tried to warn you. I tried to tell you.

My already-broken heart shattered further. I knew what I had to do.

‘Go back to the car,’ I said to Dylan. ‘Wait for the police.’

‘What?’

I shouted, ‘Go.Now!’ I could hear how close I was to the edge of sanity.

The way my son flinched, I knew he could hear me losing my mind too. But he hurried to the stairs. Rose tried to follow him. I grabbed her wrist.

‘Not you,’ I said.

Dylan hesitated at the top of the stairwell and I shouted at him again. ‘Go.’

He went, leaving me with Rose, who looked up at me, hurt and confused. ‘Daddy? What are you doing?’

‘I’m sorry, sweetheart,’ I said, taking her arm. ‘But I don’t believe you. Maybe you didn’t kill your mum, maybe that was Fiona, but I know you had something to do with Iris. I don’t know what else you’ve done. But I can’t let you come home with us. I have to put Dylan first.’

And with that, she changed.

The mask slipped away.

It was a terrifying sight. One second she was gazing at me imploringly, an upset little girl. The next – well, one word came into my head as her features twisted and she bared her teeth, and all the warmth left her eyes.

Devil.

‘Let me go,’ she demanded.

‘No, Rose . . .’

I didn’t see it coming. She scratched my face with her free hand, slashing at my eye. It hurt like hell and I let go of her. Immediately, she vanished into the room where the bodies lay. Covering the eyeshe’d just savaged with my palm, I followed. She stood there, holding the flick-knife that had killed Emma in her small fist.

‘Rose,’ I said. ‘Put it down.’

‘Get back!’ She screamed it, jabbing at the air. ‘I’ll kill you too.’ Her expression changed as she realised what she’d said, as though she was drawing back from the words. But then her features settled, hardened.

‘I can’t let you go, Rose,’ I said. ‘I can’t let you hurt Dylan.’

She sneered. ‘You always liked him best.’

‘No I didn’t. I’ve always loved you both the same.’

---