Page 41 of Psycho Killers

The world blurs as I twist the throttle, the bike surging forward with a growl. Wind slams against me, whipping my hair behind me like a banner of freedom. Adrenaline pumps through my veins, a fierce rush that drowns out any remnants of doubt. I’m invincible.

The first turn approaches, and I lean into it, trusting the bike to respond as I train my focus on the impending corners that snake through the makeshift course. Whispers of laughter and shouts of encouragement from spectators blur into a chaotic symphony around me, amplifying my exhilaration.

I catch glimpses of Dominic and Ash vying for position behind me, their adrenaline-fueled competitive spirit driving them. The track winds on, and with every twist and bend, I gain confidence, realizing I belong here among the madness.

But cracks of uncertainty flicker in my mind. The memory of Gunnar flashes before me, his final moments etched forever in my memory. No, not just memories—fuel. Each neck-wrenching turn, each gut-wrenching acceleration feeds my need for revenge, guiding me towards my ultimate goal: my parents.

I push through the pain and doubt, closing in on the leaders. It’s with that brutal resolve that I take my final chance, leaning hard as I navigate a particularly treacherous curve, accelerating sharply on the straightaway that follows.

I’m almost there. The finish line glimmers like a beacon in the distance, and I can hear the crowd erupting, my name roaring from their lips, binding me to this moment—this race.

And suddenly, I'm propelled beyond the finish line, triumphant and almost euphoric, wind-swept and wild, the scent of burning rubber swirling in the night air.

But as I slam to a halt, my heart still pounding, the thrill of victory catches in my throat. Victory is sweet, but it’s merely the beginning. Tonight is just a race; tomorrow, I’m taking my parents down. And I won’t stop until I’ve erased every trace of them from the world, just as I did with Gunnar.

I dismount Ash's bike with shaky legs and feel the rush of the crowd, their cheers swallowing me whole. I’m just about to absorb it all when I notice a figure emerging from the shadows on the sidelines, familiar eyes locked onto me with an unsettling intensity.

It’s time to fucking finish this.

My heart drops for a split second, and the adrenaline in my veins becomes a surge of icy dread. It’s not just anyone staring back at me—it’s my mother, her face carved from stone but riddled with cracks of fury and fear. She’s here, in the very place I vowed never to let her step foot again. The noise of the crowd fades as I take a step forward, instincts warring with the pull of anger and betrayal lodged deep within me.

“Cali!” she calls, her voice cracking like a whip in the chaos. It’s a command, a plea, but it carries the weight of years of neglect and manipulation.

“What the fuck do you want?” I call back, my throat tight as I suppress a wave of nausea threatening to break through my hard-won composure.

The guys immediately rush to my side, ready to protect me in any way that they can. Still in shock, my breathing becomes erratic, trying to figure out why she's here and what made her come hunt me down in public, knowing she's next on my list. The guys surround me, forming a protective barrier around me so that my mother can't get to me even if she tried, and the gesture just makes me love them even more.

My hands itch for the comfort of the throttle, to feel that raw power beneath me again, but I know there’s no escaping this moment. Her gaze doesn’t waver, even as the crowd roars around us. She steps forward, her heels clicking against the asphalt, cutting through the chaos, each step intentional, calculated.

“We need to talk," she says calmly, like we're best fucking friends or something and not the enemies we really are.

“Talk?” Rage wells inside me, igniting the remnants of my adrenaline high. It claws at my insides, but I suppress it, determined to remain in control. “What’s there to talk about? You’ve had years to explain yourself.”

“They think you’re a monster because of what you did tonight,” she presses on, ignoring my accusation. “You’re losing yourself.”

“I found myself when I took Gunnar down. It's the first right thing I’ve done,” I snap, my words sharp enough to slice through the tension. “What do you think you can do or say that will change anything? I’m not afraid of you anymore.”

The flicker of panic in her eyes almost makes me hesitate, but I quickly harden my resolve again. She strides closer, the noise of the crowd still vibrating around us as the reality of my actions sinks in like a thick fog. I can see it now—she’s trying to manipulate me, trying to mold my anger into guilt. She thinks she can pacify the beast I’ve become with soft promises and painful memories.

“You’re better than this, Cali! This isn’t you,” she insists, her eyes glistening under the neon lights. “You need to stop this before it consumes you—before it gets worse.”

“Worse?” I echo, my voice rising. “What kind of worse are you even talking about? You don’t get to stand there and tell me how to live after you destroyed everything that fucking mattered to me.”

A flicker of shame crosses her features, but her mask is quickly in place again. “This isn’t about me. This is about you making choices. You have to think about the consequences.”

At that, a deep, mocking laugh escapes my lips. “Consequences? You think I care about consequences after what you’ve done? After everything you’ve put me through?” I’m shouting now, and it feels as good as the thrill of the race. Each word comes easily; it’s a release that’s been building for years. “You placed me in this life, and I’ve just taken back control. You think I’ll cower to you now? I’m taking you and Dad down. You’re both fucking monsters, and I’ll end it all.”

The crowd’s cheers turn into murmurs, and I can sense their eyes shifting between us. I’m gaining the attention I expected, but this isn't the display I had hoped for. I need to keep my fire lit, but I don’t want it to turn into a sideshow for their entertainment.

Her expression softens momentarily, the flicker of a mother’s love trying to fight through the chaos of our history. “Cali, I was trying to protect you, to build a life?—”

“No! You were trying to protect yourself!” I shout, cutting her off. “You chose yourself over me every. single. time.” Each word strikes like a hammer, and she flinches, my pulse racing with vengeance.

Suddenly, Ash moves even closer to me, sensing the tension thick enough to cut through. “Cali, we should go—” he begins, but my gaze doesn’t waver from my mother’s.

“Why don’t we finish what we started? Just you and me?” I propose, the rush of revenge quaking through me. This feels like the final race, and it’s only just begun. “You owe me that much for taking my fucking life away.”

For a moment, she looks taken aback, and I can almost see her weighing her options—the motherly instincts battling against the remorseless figure she has become.

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