Page 198 of Kiss the Villain

An emptiness that can’t be filled, sustained, or eliminated.

It’s like a hole of nothingness, stretching wider and deeper every day, every month, every year.

At first, I despised it. That thing that made me different from my parents. That thing that made me different from other kids my age.

But then I saw Kill embrace it. He had a void, too, but he called it a superpower. He was proud of it—proud of his brain, his perception, his ability to crush others under his heel.

He didn’t hide it. He flaunted it, doing whatever he wanted, whenever and however he wanted.

But not me.

Because, unlike Kill, I care what Dad thinks.

I need his approval. I love his approval. Icraveit.

The thought that he might one day look at me with disapproval like he did with Kill is my worst nightmare.

So I stitched that void up with pieces of my soul and shoved it into the darkest corner of my mind.

The closest I’ve ever come to filling it was when I killed David. When I felt his essence flow into my hands. When his wide, lifeless eyes stared up at me, knowing I was his god at that moment.

A rush of life poured into me in the form of his blood. It filled that void to the brim, and I think I sighed in relief as I stared at his jacked-up body lying on the bed.

The same bed where he assaulted Harper for years, until she took her life to escape him.

Maybe I smiled. Maybe I laughed, like a madman, because for the first time, that void felt full.

I was euphoric.

Deliriously elated.

Floating on a peaceful cloud, sitting in my quiet, beautiful white room.

Until I remembered Dad.

Until I imagined that frown on his face.

And all my joy crashed and burned.

The same frown he’s wearing now as we sit in my room. The walls are painted black-green, a muted color that matches the rest of the decor. I keep staring at the sheets—black silk.

Like in the apartment.

I hate silk. It reminds me of my bloodied white room. The one I can never clean up.

It’s been two days since Kayden had his bodyguards take me on a private jet from Chicago to New York, then drive me to my parents' house.

Nadine—his chief of security or whatever she calls herself—made the arrangements. Or, rather,Simone.That’s her real name. Nadine was the alias he made her use so he could lie to me.

Mom’s been crying and fawning over me nonstop since I got here, and it’s making my head throb.

I hate how emotional she can get. Maybe because I don’t have that switch in my brain, so I can’t relate.

And while I usually understand her love, her overwhelming emotions are like nails on a chalkboard right now, worsening the pounding in my skull that hasn’t stopped since I left.

She said she’d make my favorite dishes for lunch, and honestly, I’m relieved she’s gone. Mom’s a good person. She’s dedicated her life to us and to charity. I shouldn’t be an ungrateful little cretin.

But with my mood swings, I need her gone. The last thing I want is to snap and hurt her.

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