Page 156 of Rage

“Dear God, it’s The Smiling Sinner!” a cop yells.

“He was hung at the throat,” another scoffs.

“He has his face…”

“His face? What does that mean?” Suddenly, the mood changes. People are pulling guns, aiming them at me and shaking.

“What’s wrong with him? Look at his head.” I lift my hand and touch the scar on my forehead. I suppose that would be disturbing for them.

“Did you bring that boat here just now?” the detective asks, pointing behind me. He’s the only one remaining calm. I open my mouth and groan at him.

“Stop doing that!” a cop hisses.

“Did you see Samantha Hawthorne?” the detective asks. Her name in his mouth seals his destiny. It lets me know everything I need to.

Fate is never murky or gray like the bay—not for me. It’s a pendulum swinging back and forth in favor and against me. Why else would Samantha wash up on my shore? Why else would the boat follow after? And what other explanation is there for why the person responsible for my anguish is standing right in front of me, as if waiting for his punishment?

My mouth twists into a smile.

“Dear God, it is The Smiling Sinner, but how can it be?” They quake. I open my mouth and laugh. I’d been practicing forher, but now, they can hear it as they suffer. Someone fires a shot, and it buries in my chest. Everyone is silent, waiting for something that never comes—my death.

I lunge forward, grabbing the man who shot me and throwing him towards the rocks at the shore. His body flies. More shots go off. Samantha didn’t make me to die; she made me to live. Nothing can stop my vengeance. Nothing can stop the pain.

Their screams echo across the bay until all that’s left is the detective trying to crawl towards escape over men who have been ripped to shreds. When I grab his coat and lift him from the ground, he buries a knife in my side. I drop him to pull out the knife and throw it. Then, I get down on my knees and grab his head in my hands.

“What are you?” he asks. I press my thumbs into his eyes and push slowly, savoring his tortured howl. I hope the sounds reach her somewhere, and she knows what I’ve done.

What am I? I’m Samantha’s monster, and I will destroy every thread that holds this world together until I can bring her back to me.

Chapter Ten

Samantha

“Samantha,” a voice pulls me from the pain. My entire body is coiled in agony. I open my eyes, and the tension leaks out of me. Above me is a dark sky dancing with lightning. I try to move my arms and head, but they’re strapped down tightly.

I begin to panic. Where am I? What’s happened?

A face leans into my view. Amber eyes look down at me. They’re so familiar. When he smiles, I forget my concerns.

“Samantha. Samantha. Samantha,” he says, chanting the name like a prayer as his face draws closer to mine. I notice the sutures on his head and around his neck and try to scream. It’s muffled because my mouth is filled with cloth.

“My wicked and lovely Samantha,” he says before pulling the cloth free. He kisses me desperately. Lightning hits, and I scream into his mouth as he growls, never stopping his lips on mine as we’re electrocuted. Tears trail from my eyes down the sides of my face.

“You taste different,” he says, pulling his mouth from mine. “Metallic.” His words are raspy and deep. I see crooked lines of white electricity jump between our mouths as he pulls back.

He’s massive, and his hands grip both sides of the table I’m strapped to. His eyes appear to be glowing. He’s not human.

“Wh—” My mouth struggles around words for a moment. “Wha’ are…”

“What am I?” He smiles down at me. He bends down close.

“I’m your savior and your damnation,” he tells me. I don’t understand.

“Casper,” he whispers. The air in my lungs seems to expel as it comes back. My creation, my monster. Blood, corpses, lightning in the sky…water in my lungs.

Casper unbuckles my straps and pulls me into his arms. I feel strange. Words are difficult to pluck from my head. Memories feel as if they’re drowning in dark waves. My body is hard to move, my limbs hang lifelessly at my sides as he holds me.

“I’ve made you like me,” he explains. There are sutures around my wrists. I look at him in horror.

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