Page 8 of Insatiable

My heels drop to the floor, and I lick my lips, remembering a time when I’d do it and be able to taste mint and faint tobacco.

I shake my head, pushing away the lone tears sliding down my cheek.

Without turning the light on, I pull my dress off and unclip my bra, ready to remove my underwear. But before I can do anything else, a firm grip wraps around my throat, causing a strangled gasp to catch in my chest as the person backs me away from the door and slams me into the mattress.

Air rushes out of my lungs from the impact in a choked-out cough. Pressure builds behind my eyes as they fly open in fear to see Chris – my evil and deluded stepbrother – above me.

I try to slap his arms as hard as I can, so he’ll release his painful hold, but it only causes him to tighten it and lower himself onto me, crushing my nearly naked body between him and the bed.

“Who the fuck was that?”

2

STACEY

Ilove dancing in the dark.

When I’m surrounded by carnage, which is often, it’s peaceful – an escape. I enjoy mentally vanishing from existence, even if it’s only for a moment.

Sometimes, I close my eyes and block out everything as my body moves around the hoop, or as the silks wrap around my limbs while I hang mid-air. Usually, halfway through my routine, I’ll free flow, head lolling to the beat, imagining a silent audience that can’t take their eyes off me.

Music will play, the genre completely dependent on my mood. I’ll tell myself that anxiety and unnecessary voices don’t exist. That they’re nothing but void thoughts desperate to destroy my calm. As each chord strikes, the black tendrils around my heart will shrivel away.

There was a time when one person was able to make me ignore that side of myself. I helped him with his own darkness, and he made me feel alive, sustaining me with tender touches and words, stolen kisses and nights in his bed when no one knew. I was happy.

I thought I was safe. I thought I was free.

Until I wasn’t.

But the past is the past. It’s nothing a bit of music can’t temporarily fix.

“Spiracle” by Flower Face echoes around the studio I’ve been dancing in since I was a teen. Whenever this song plays, I think of him.

I remember the way I felt sitting on the sofa across from Lu. Nervous. On fire. Wishing I was brave enough to touch him. His hand was so close to my own, and I dared myself to take it, to feel his palm in mine, to know how soft it was, but I was terrified of his refusal.

He hated being touched – it would make him flinch and look as if he was in pain. Then his pinkie grazed mine under the blanket that we shared, eyes on the TV, and I fought a smile.

It was from then that it really started. It wasn’t a dare – it was real.

The studio is empty, like it always is after classes end. The colourful LED lights are dimmed, but sometimes, I turn them off completely. It’s relaxing, just closing my mind off from this world and being in my own – my axis shifts, and everything stops while I dance.

But in a few hours, Chris will pick me up, and it will all come crashing down – and I’ll remember my true reality.

The music cuts out, and I stop, gripping the hoop while I stay suspended upside down, one leg hooked over to keep me stable. I narrow my eyes at the screen of my phone – the text that’s popped up has interrupted my song and disconnected the Bluetooth.

I flip down onto the crash mat, tightening the bobble in my hair as I walk to the other side of the room, my bare feet slapping over the flooring. Leaning against the fully mirrored wall, I open the messages in our group chat.

Lu: My mum andEwanjust left. I thinkKadeand his friends are going out, so we’ll have the entire manor to ourselves for the party.

Ty: I’m still at my aunt’s house. But I’ll see you soon!

Her mum and stepdad Ewan are going to America for a few weeks, something about a meeting with her biological father’s therapist to possibly get him accepted time in public. But so far all his appeals have been declined.

I mean, I can’t see him ever being allowed time away from the institution. He’s terrifying. I spoke to him on the phone once while Lu hurried out of the bathroom, and his voice alone sent shivers through my body. He knew my name and warned me not to hurt his son likeIwas the monster.

His voice was so deep and dangerous, I think I’d honestly pass out if I ever met him. As much as his son resembles him, I’d run in the opposite direction of Tobias Mitchell.

He’s a diagnosed psychopath. A killer.

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