Page 23 of Psycho Killers

“Where to?” she asks, glancing at me with a teasing smile.

“Anywhere but fucking here,” I reply, my voice steady despite the chaos inside my head.

I can feel anticipation creeping in, and it’s not just about escaping the sterile walls of the hospital. The urge, the cravings to get high again taunt me, and the fact that I was just in a coma for three fucking weeks because of an overdose doesn't seem tomatter. Drugs have such a huge hold over me; I can't help but want them.

“Got a specific place in mind?” She presses, her tone playful, but I catch a hint of sincerity beneath it.

“Just fucking drive,” I demand, popping a couple extra Valium the doc prescribed me, just wanting to feel relaxed, hoping the darkness and rage inside of me dissipates.

As we hit the open road, the reality of freedom begins to settle in. I let the scenery pass by, watching as we leave the dull institutional buildings behind. My heart races—a mix of excitement and dread. What will be waiting for me now that I'm out? Friends? Enemies? Ghosts of my past? And there's Calista. Her name echoes in my mind, a haunting reminder of choices I made and the emotional pull that tethers me to her still.

Jo turns on the radio, a girly tune filling the car, and for a moment, I let myself indulge in the distraction of music, but it gets me even more worked up and angry. I think about the face I’ll see when I step into the world again, my mind flitting between Calista’s warmth and the thrill of the unexpected between Jo and me.

“What’s with the pensive look?” Jo asks, breaking me from my thoughts. Her eyes flicker toward me, waiting for my answer.

“Just thinking about life after the hospital,” I say, choosing my words carefully. “It feels like I’m stepping back into a fucking whirlwind.”

“Been there. It can be overwhelming but also liberating. Just remember to breathe,” she advises, her tone shifting to a softer, more sincere note.

“Yeah, breathing—my new fucking motto.”

She smirks, clearly sensing more beneath the surface of my words. “We all cope in our own ways,” she says, her gaze focused on the road. “You just gotta find what works.”

As we pull up to a red light, something in my chest constricts. My phone buzzes in my pocket—a reminder of the world waiting for me. I pull it out, and my stomach drops as I see a string of missed calls and messages, all from Calista. My mind races; she must have found out about my release.

“What’s wrong?” Jo asks, glancing at me.

“Nothing,” I lie, quickly putting the phone away.

“I know that look. You need to take care of whatever that is,” she encourages gently.

I glance at her, searching for clarity and finding unexpected turmoil in her presence. “Yeah, and what if I fucking don’t know how?”

“Then let’s figure it out together,” she responds, a flicker of genuine connection flashing in her eyes.

Before I can respond, the light turns green, and I make a decision. “Let’s not go to my place just yet,” I say, my voice steadier now. “I need to clear my fucking head first.”

She smiles, a playful glint in her eye. “I know just the spot.”

As we drive into the gathering dusk, I can feel the world unfolding—everything still to come, the land of uncertainty stretching out before me. No longer bound by the hospital, I’m ready to face whatever lies ahead, but first, there's something I need to fucking take care of.

The car eventually comes to a stop at what looks to be some kind of park, obviously closed for the night. But that doesn't stop either of us from getting out of the car and disappearing into the pitch black, following the trail through rows of tall trees that block the gleam of the full moon. Taking advantage of the darkness, I reach into my pocket and pull out a pair of latex gloves I stole from the hospital, subtly putting them on as Jo rambles on about some shit.

My heart races, beads of sweat forming across my brow. As we come up to a small clearing, still shielded by the trees, Iswiftly turn to face her and roughly back her up until her spine hits the thick trunk of one of the trees. My hand goes to her throat on instinct, and I choke her, watching the twisted grin curl across her lips.

"I wouldn't be smiling if I were you," I warn her, violently shoving her scrubs down and spinning her around, her face pressed into the rotting back.

"You're hurting me, Ash," she whines, and fuck, it turns me on even more.

"Good. That's the fucking point," I snarl into her ear as I pull my dick out, slamming into her from behind in a long, deep thrust that makes her cries echo around us.

As she starts to talk again, I choke her even harder, feeling her frantic pulse rapidly throb against my fingers as I fuck her like I've been imagining in my head. I show her no mercy, feeling the rage and anger seep from my pores with each thrust, even as she tries to squirm and break free from my hold.

All I see is red as I fist the back of her hair, yank it backward, and then brutally smash her face into the tree trunk. It silences her almost immediately, blood from her mouth and nose running like a river down the tree. But I still fuck her, knowing she's unconscious, pushing my body against hers while using the tree as leverage.

My hand is still around her throat, my grip never loosening. I can't stop. Her blonde hair smells like lavender—just like Cali's. But her blood begins to overwhelm the comforting scent, enraging me all over again.

I give her pussy a few more deep, rapid thrusts before I pull out and shove her limp body to the ground. She awakens upon impact, delirious and afraid, but I'm nowhere near finished with her. This is why I couldn't just go to Cali because tonight, I'm in the mood to kill, and this bitch is the fucking perfect target.

---