Page 116 of Savage Scream

I buckle forward, my hands on my knees as I breathe through the wave of nausea. Why did we have to come out of lockdown already? Perhaps I should have feigned having the virus. Played sick and stayed home in bed.

“This is a bad idea. Why did I think I could perform in a dance concert? I can’t go out there. I don’t dance on stage for people to watch me. I dance for me. I dance to feel, and that’s it,” I mutter in panic, and Jared offers me a warm smile.

Helping me stand upright, he turns me to face him, his hands rubbing soothingly up and down my arms.

“Don’t you understand? When people watch you dance, you makethemfeel too.”

Shit. Why does he have to go and say things like that? It just makes my heart squeeze and my chest feel warm and then I want to kiss him, which will likely turn into us getting naked.

Hey, there’s an idea.

Maybe I’ll miss my spot in the end-of-year showcase while I’m getting busy with Jared.

“Whatever you are thinking, stop.” Jared grins, and I roll my eyes. “Come on now. You can do this, Deranged. You’ve been practising like crazy for today, and you made that beautiful costume in textiles class. It would be a shame not to show it off to everyone.”

Damn it. My costumeisgood. Likereallygood. Peopledoneed to see it.

“Maybe one of the other girls can wear it?” I suggest, looking hopefully up into Jared’s amused blue gaze, and he chuckles.

“Nope. It was made for this sexy little dancing assassin. Now go and get ready.” Gripping my shoulders, he spins me around and slaps me on the arse, and I squeal before going to do what he said.

As I get ready, my phone lights up with a message from Travis, and I open it to see a photo of him, Cassie, and Tillie, poking their tongues out. He looks so happy, something he’s been since being freed from the Kerrs’ grasp. He never did go back to school, though, lockdown making it hard, but Griffin has taken him under his wing, and even though I’d rather him live a crime free life, I just don’t think Travis has it in him to live that way. So better the devil you know and all that.

Our aunties, Bec and Amanda, purchased a house not too far from the Rogans, which is where Travis and Cassie are living, and my aunties stay there whenever they come to town, which is pretty frequently.

It’s nice to see Travis growing closer to them, and when I go around there once a month for a family dinner, it feels less awkward than it used to, and we rarely bring up any bitterness of the past anymore.

After the dust settled from my attempt at fleeing, I spent quite a bit of time with Bec and Amanda. I was angry at first. I had so many questions, and they filled in the blanks, but at the end of the day, they did what they thought was best given my killing tendencies and their ability to help me. Which became easier with each year that passed as they dominated the organised crime industry in this country.

Now, we have a more personal relationship, more befitting of a niece and her aunties. Our time isn’t spent talking about who needs to be assassinated, or what crime lords need to be taught a lesson. Now, we talk about clothes, songs, and dance. A lot about dance. And Jared. There’s a lot of discussion around that topic. Mainly them asking if he’s treating me right. Which is something they’ll never have to worry about.

Jared Crowley treats me like a queen.

Sometimes a naughty queen that needs to be taught a lesson through some edging, but they don’t need to know that.

Closing Trav’s message, I put my phone away and stare at the costume I made in my textiles class. Really, I made it at home, but it was for that class, and I spent way longer than I probably should have hand stitching some lacy motifs on it before teaching myself how to bling the fabric using hot fix rhinestones.

That shit is addictive. Like, to the point that everything you look at around you makes you consider if perhaps it would look better blinged. And I guess most things would look epic, all sparkly and stuff.

As I slip into the teal and black costume I made, I grin at how much my life has changed since I turned eighteen. I haven’t killed anyone since I slaughtered Bianca, stabbing her the same amount of times I did her sister. Griffin hasn’t asked me to do any more kills either, upholding our agreement.

Sometimes I feel sad for Thana, wondering if she’s lonely hiding at the back of my bedhead. Although she’s not alone. The birthday gift Griffin got me was a new knife. A small yet just as deadly one, and a lot prettier than Thana. I called her Princess after the little chihuahua that enjoyed eating sausages, both the food source and the one attached to her previous owner.

Maybe one day I’ll let Princess bathe in blood like Thana did.

Maybe.

Once the costume is in place, I stare at my reflection in the mirror.

Who are you?

Leaning closer, I stare into my own eyes.

“Are you still a killer?” I whisper, and the smirk that lifts the corner of my mouth tells me everything I need to know.

Yes, I fucking am.

Ahhh, there she is. Hush. I summon that beast, knowing the only way I’m going to be able to get on that stage and not puke my lunch up, is if Hush is here with me.

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