Page 66 of Rage

The night air is cool against my skin as we step out of the hospital.Mason’s arm wraps protectively around my waist, his body angled to shield me from potential threats.The parking lot is eerily quiet, the few cars scattered across the asphalt like abandoned sentinels.

* * *

Unbeknownst to them, a figure lurks in the shadows between two parked cars.Her face twisted with rage and jealousy as she watches their every move.Her fingernails dig crescents into her palms as she fights the urge to scream.

It should have been her.She was the one who’d worked alongside Peterson for years, catering to his every whim.She’d endured his temper, his wandering hands, all for the promise of a better life.And then Meadow had waltzed in, with her perfect smile and her fancy degree, and ruined everything.

Her eyes narrow as she watches Mason open the car door for Meadow.The tenderness in his touch, the way his gaze never leaves her face, it’s like a knife twisting in her gut.She remembers a time when Peterson looked at her that way, before Meadow stole his attention.

As the car pulls away, she steps out from her hiding place.Her hatred burns white-hot, consuming every rational thought.

Meadow Beckham has taken everything from her—her mentor, her future, and now her freedom.Peterson’s obsession with her had ruined everything.

She reaches into her pocket, fingers closing around the cold metal of the scalpel she’d stolen from the supply closet.A humorless smile twists her lips.

Meadow may have won this round, but the game is far from over.She will make her pay, make her suffer as she has suffered.

And when Meadow finally breaks, when she’s lost everything she holds dear, only then will she end her misery.But not before savoring every moment of her pain.

As the taillights of Mason’s car disappear into the night, she melts back into the shadows.Her time will come.And when it does, Meadow Beckham will wish she’d never set foot in this hospital.

She has stolen my future, I will destroy hers.

* * *

Meadow

We are close by my apartment.“Can we go in and get the rest of my things?”I ask Mason.

Mason nods, pulling into the parking lot of my apartment complex.As we approach my door, an uneasy feeling settles in my stomach.Something’s not right.

The door creaks open at my touch.It should be locked.My heart pounds as we step inside.

The sight that greets us steals my breath.Destruction.Utter chaos.

My living room is unrecognizable.Furniture overturned, cushions slashed.Picture frames lie shattered on the floor, glass crunching under our feet.The walls, once a soft cream, are now defaced with angry red scrawls.

“Tell the world it’s a setup and no one dies,” I read aloud, voice barely a whisper.

Mason’s arm tightens around me.“Jesus Christ.”

We move deeper into the apartment, the devastation growing worse with each step.In the kitchen, dishes lie smashed on the tile.The acrid smell of spoiled food assaults my nostrils; the refrigerator door hangs open, its contents strewn across the floor.

But it’s my bedroom that truly makes my stomach turn.My dresser drawers have been emptied, clothes scattered everywhere.A sickening realization hits as I notice what’s missing.

“My underwear,” I choke out.“They’re all gone.”

Mason’s jaw clenches, his eyes blazing with vehemence.But there’s worse to come.

The bedsheets are stained, reeking of urine and something else, something musky and unmistakable.Bile rises in my throat as I realize what it is.

“They… Oh God.”I clap a hand over my mouth, fighting the urge to vomit.

Mason pulls me close, his body trembling with barely contained rage.“We’re leaving.Now.”

As he guides me out, my eyes land on one final message scrawled across my vanity mirror.

I’ll see you when you sleep, bitch.

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