Page 74 of Sinister Legacy
Keira: I’m not sick like you.
Unknown number: That’s what I thought you’d say.
Another video clip pops up on my screen, and I watch in horror as the distorted voice cuts through the roar of my pounding pulse in my neck. “Every time you lie, I will hurt your friend.”
And then he drags the blade slowly down Kit’s cheek. Blood pours from the deep cut, and I let out a choked scream when Kit roars.
“Oh, god, no, no, no!”
Unknown number: Have I got your attention now? It’s time for the truth, Keira. For every lie you spin, I will cut your friend.
Keira: I won’t lie again, I promise. Don’t hurt him.
Unknown number: Now answer the question, Keira. Have you ever fantasized about killing someone in cold blood?
I squeeze my eyes shut and inhale a breath.
Keira: Yes.
Unknown number: Very good.
Unknown number: Do you believe your father’s sick tendencies run in your blood?
Keira: I don’t know.
Another video message pops up. I release a whimper, shrinking back against the fridge while watching the masked man drag the knife down Kit’s arm. The slice is so deep that yellow fat protrudes from the wound.
Gagging, I angle the phone away for a second.
Unknown number: It was a yes or no question. You don’t get to tap out with “I don’t know.”
Keira: Yes, okay. I believe my father’s sickness runs through me. I can feel it.
Unknown number: Feel it how?
“Fuck,” I whisper shakily, sliding down the length of the fridge until I’m seated on the floor. He’ll hurt Kit if I don’t tell him my deepest, darkest secrets.
Keira: I like pain. Humiliation. Degradation. And I sometimes want to inflict it on others, too.
Unknown number: What’s stopping you?
The tears in my eyes spill over, and I hastily wipe my cheeks dry, but more tears seep out.
Keira: I can’t let the darkness inside me win. I’ll end up locked away in a mental hospital or on death row like my father.
Unknown number: Ah! Your father. The famous killer of Blackwoods. Tell me, Keira. Does a small part of you enjoy the popularity you gain by being his flesh and blood?
More tears fall, and the salty liquid seeps between my lips when I wet them.
Keira: Maybe.
My thumb hovers over the send button, but then I delete it.
Keira: Yes.
Unknown number: Admit that you almost willingly tapped out that time because a sick and twisted part of you—the darkness that you hide from the world—wanted me to sink the knife into Kit’s flesh.
Lowering the phone, I stare at the windows. Darkness is settling outside, and the streetlights have come on.
