Page 32 of Psyop Kings

With a ragged sigh, I rub at my eyes. I’m still half asleep. That’s the problem. I need a pumpkin pie frappe stat. First, I need to find my phone that’s probably lost in the bedding somewhere.

As I walk over to my bed, I get an eerie feeling. Something’s wrong with the bedroom. It’s…not the right size. I rub my eyes again and wait for everything to come back into focus. The distance from my desk to the bed is too far. Same with the distance between me and Tara’s bed.

I start for the window when something on my wall catches my attention. The pictures of my brother aren’t my brother at all. They’re….

No.

My heart rate speeds up as I rush to the covered window between our end tables. Morning light shines from the sides of the blackout curtains. I yank the curtains aside and expect to see the courtyard with students milling about.

I see LED lights stuck to the wall instead.

What. The. Hell.

Terror claws its way inside me as a shrill sound rattles from my throat. I rip one of the pictures from the wall and stare at it. It’s me and…Caius.

Caius is smirking, wearing a Nike cap, with his arm casually slung over my shoulder.

This isn’t real.

This didn’t happen.

That picture was of me and Bastian. I remember it well. We’d gone to Staten Island one day when we were bored and pretended to be tourists.

Except now the picture has Caius—the monster from my nightmares.

I drop the picture as though it’s been tainted with poison and rush for the dorm room door. I’m pretty sure I know what I’ll find, but I need to see it with my own eyes. When I reach the door, I suck in several shaky breaths. I’m close to having a panic attack. I need to breathe and count and focus, but my brain compels me to look beyond the door.

With a resigned sob, I twist the knob and it easily opens. The first thing I see is a wall with a sconce and a door beside it. It’s not the dorm hall, though.

It’s the horrible one.

To confirm, I step out and look to my left and then to my right.

Endless hallway lined with doors.

I shriek and slam the door closed before leaning my back against it. Sliding down to the floor, I attempt to get my breathing under control. It’s coming in and out too short and quick. Dizziness washes over me.

What’s happening?

How do I escape this mental hell?

I’m still reeling when someone knocks on the door. I cry out and scramble back toward my bed—the fake bed—hoping to escape my attacker.

I barely make it into my bed before the door opens. Gareth steps in, face pinched with concern. I want to throw something at his pretty face. I hate him. I hate all of them.

“Calm down, Romy,” he says, holding a palm out in front of him. “It’s okay.”

“It. Is. Not. Okay!” I scream. “You people are sick!”

He frowns and hangs his head. “He really thought this would help you remember.”

I fling my middle finger at him. “Leave me alone!”

“I can’t,” he says sadly. “We won’t give up on you.”

I jolt back toward the wall, gripping my blanket and pulling it over me when he strides my way. The blanket won’t keep this lunatic away from me, though. He sighs heavily and then sits on fake Tara’s bed.

“I can understand you’re scared,” Gareth says gently. “I don’t agree with Caius’s attempt to help you remember. You’re too…particular…to be fooled. It would inevitably cause you to grow more suspicious than you already are. I’m sorry.”

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