Page 49 of His to Haunt

“That’s what I’m worried about,” I say stupidly. I suppose my strategy is to try to reason with madness.

He leans back against the sofa, his arm over the back with a sigh.

“When I was in private school, Leena, I was a high achiever. Grades and athletics were easy. But…fitting in socially took planning. I took on a certain calculated persona that gained the results I wanted. I was popular enough and wealthy enough to intimidate a significant percentage of the student population from bothering me. I kept myself isolated by only socializing with elites, keeping a small, easily manageable circle. But…there was this one teacher who I felt saw through me. She didn’t like me and tried to get in my way. So, I sabotaged her. Got her fired. It was easy to do, Leena. You understand?”

He looks at me, reading my reaction.

“Why are you telling me this, Zand?”

He nods. “That…is part of the problem here, that I even care. That I want you to understand.”

“Part of the problem?”

“It’s…a rare number of people in life who I felt saw through me as if they were seeing into my soul, like that teacher. She made me feel weak. I’m not used to feeling weak. You’re a psychologist. What does that mean to you?”

My eyebrows raise, surprised.

I open my mouth to speak but hesitate, choosing my words. This strangely feels like the beginning of a therapy session.

“Well, it means that you found security in wearing a mask. You felt the need to hide behind it due to insecurity. When someone lifted your mask, you felt exposed and vulnerable. You reacted with survival instinct, combatting a threat.”

“Yes. Very good. I put an end to the threat. Not just in school as a kid but in life as an adult. I’m good at ending things.”

“When you say…ending things…what do you mean, Zand?”

“It depends on the circumstance,” he shrugs. “Sabotage. Humiliation. Pick your poison.”

At least he didn’t say murder, but then that was only the shortlist.

I nod at him understandingly, trying to make him feel heard and not judged while my mind is spinning in terror that this is leading to a confession about Rachel.

“What do you think they are seeing through your mask, Zand?”

“My true feelings. Lack-thereof because I don’t have the ability to care. I only pretend to be human.”

Everything Zand says raises a big, fat red flag. I recall what the doctor said about this region being home to a high incidence of psychopaths. But even with her numbers, it’s still rare enough.

“This is what is odd about you, Leena. I didn’t put up much pretense when we met because I wanted you gone. Still, I wore a type of mask. I never leave home without it. But you…knew there was something wrong the minute I laid eyes on you. Your instincts are strong, aren’t they?”

Is this the part where he makes me go away? Ah, shit. Think fast, Leena.

“Probably more to do with my interest in human behavior than instincts. I tend to analyze people and classify them. I try to temper that and not judge. Look, I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel exposed…I...just—“

“Don’t worry. I’m not yet finished with you yet.”

My eyes widen in disbelief. Is this a game of cat and mouse for him?

“Don’t be alarmed,” he says, taking my hand in his large palm. His hand is warmer than before. My hand flinches but then relaxes under the gently smooth caress of his thumb. What is he pulling here?

“Somehow…you manage to make me feel,” he rasps. “In the chest like an unsettling warmth. It’s irritating. Frustrating.”

“Warmth,” I mutter, bemused with raised eyebrows, noting the negative connotation he’s attached to the act of feeling.

My mind is reeling with questions that I’m too afraid to ask, mainly regarding Rachel.

“Stop thinking her name,” he orders, startling me. Stunned by this, I jerk my hand from him, but he doesn’t let go.

“Please,” I plead. God, I’m ready to run now.

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