Page 81 of Splintered Memories
I clenched my teeth as tears seeped from my closed lashes. I was going to die here in this tiny room. The one thing I regretted in my last moments was that I never told August the truth.
It was so clear to me now, as tangible as the sting of steel slicing into my neck.
I was in love with August Ramsey.
I might have been in love with him from the moment I first saw him at that Christmas party months ago. All that agitation and anger I’d hurled at him was nothing but a defense mechanism to keep him away. I’d never seen myself falling in love with anyone, because falling in love meant getting married, and getting married meant having babies and I never wanted to be a mother—I never wanted tobecomemy mother.
Until August came into my life, I’d only run away from the mere idea of love. Except, August actually cared enough to run after me. He’d given me what I’d needed, and he’d challenged me to grow. He’d made me feel safe, not only with him, but even inside my own head.
I’d never wanted to be in a family before, but I wanted to be a part of August’s family.
I would forever wish that I’d told him, just once, that I loved him.
Amos’s laugh grew louder, and the pressure of the knife disappeared. The shock had my eyes popping open.
The Shadow Stalker smirked at me. “You didn’t think it was going to be that easy, did you?”
Wetness rolled down my cheeks, the tears salty on my lips. I didn’t answer him as the nausea had my guts cramping. Amos shook his head, like I was an ignorant child who didn’t know anything about the world.
I should’ve known. The Shadow Stalker liked to torture his victims. He never made it quick.
My mouth went dry, but I tried to swallow the fear that was steadily escalating again. A dull ache stung in my throat. The Shadow Stalker’s eyes locked on where he’d held that knife against me. It was still in his hand, lingering casually at his side, but he reached toward me with his empty one. I didn’t flinch as he pressed his fingers against my throat. When he pulled back, they were smudged in red. He had cut me with the knife, but not enough to cause any real damage.
Amos stared at my blood on his fingertips. A sort of hunger flashed in his eyes. It was as if he were fascinated by it…
My face pinched with disgust as I watched him. “You’re sick,” I hissed.
Amos’s eyes bounced back to mine. There was nothing left of the uncle I had grown up with. Maybe he had never existed at all.
“Aren’t we all sick in our own ways?” His head cocked to the side. “Why are my sins more evil than anyone else’s?”
I shook my head, not believing the words coming out of his mouth. He had to be messing with me. He killed people. He tortured women and he liked it.
It was too much. I hated him. I hated him more than I wanted to live at this moment.
And so, I did the only thing I could think of.
It didn’t matter that my mouth was bone-dry. I gathered what I could and I spat right in Amos’s face.
His flinch was almost as satisfying as seeing my saliva drip down his cheek.
My lips pulled back into a crazed grin.
One hand tightened around the knife as the other swiped over his face. Rage flashed in his eyes, hot and scalding. But it was worth it.
“You always were a problem,” he growled.
“I thought you liked that I was feisty,” I spat.
He glared at me. “Even the prettiest things eventually lose their shine. And you, Emy-Su, need some sharpening.”
Without another word, his hand lashed out. Stinging pain burned across my thigh, and I cried out. When I looked down, there was a long cut just below where my dress ended. Blood trickled from the wound, but it didn’t seem that deep. He was messing with me.
When I looked back at his face, he smiled. He lifted the knife. “Ready for another? The red looks so nice against the pale skin of yours.”
My lips wobbled, but before he could cut me again, a noise echoed through the room. Amos froze, a muscle in his jaw ticcing.
A phone was ringing.
