Page 40 of The Pretty Savage

"Four days." He frowned. "Maybe five."

"Goddammit, man," he bit out. "We talked about this. You gotta tell me when this shit starts happening. The medication?—"

"Is doing nothing, Jax, and we both know that," I gritted out. "Besides, I'm fine."

"You're not fine. You look like you're about to collapse. Your temper is short, and I don't even want to know what else is happening in that big brain of yours. You. Are. Not. Fine."

He was right.

I wasn't fine.

Teenagers on the internet made it seem like an accomplishment when they had issues with sleeping, but none of them obviously had real issues with it. My body craved sleep, the rest, that reset that could only ever come after a good night’s sleep, yet I couldn't remember the last time when I was able to go through the entire night without my mind waking me up.

The nightmares, the faceless men and women that haunted me, accusing me, trying to reach my soul, was what kept me awake in the beginning. And when they ceased to exist, it was the past I’d tried to run away from that had me gasping for air in the middle of the night whenever I allowed myself to sleep.

At first I just didn't want to close my eyes. I didn't want to see the horrors behind them, or the reminders of the weaknesses I once had. But the more time passed, the less I could sleep. Jax was the one that took me to the hospital after that first time when I pushed my body to its breaking point, after being unable to sleep for seven days straight. The doctors at the hospital in London had no idea how I was even alive, and after a series of tests they decided I had good ol’ insomnia, as if I needed a medical term to name the thing that fucked with my everyday life.

Jax made me promise that I'd take the medication the doctors suggested, but I drew the line at the therapy sessions they wanted me to attend. What was I supposed to tell them? I'm having nightmares of the people I've killed, but don't worry, I wouldn't kill you? Or perhaps I should tell them about my childhood.

None of those options were appealing to me, so I simply stuck with the drugs they prescribed, but they weren't working anymore. Nothing ever worked.

"I'll figure something out," my voice rumbled, while my eyes focused on the girl above us. "When are they taking her down?"

"Don't change the fucking subject, Adrian," Jax spat out. "You know as well as I do that you won't be able to function in less than a day if this continues. Remember what happened last time?"

How could I ever forget?

Hallucinations, irritability, lack of concentration, it all almost killed me. Maybe this was why I was stuck on Vega as much as I was.

Maybe it had nothing to do with her and everything to do with my lack of sleep and the fucked-up shit my brain would start doing because it didn't have enough rest.

"I said," I looked at him, "I'll figure it out." I loved Jax like a brother, but he had other things to worry about, and trying to solve my problems wouldn't get us any closer to what we wanted. "We should have a meeting later on."

"We definitely should, but first you need to know what else we found at the entrance to the Academy this morning," he said, exhaustion lacing his words. "Whoever did this," he pointed at the girl, "left a note."

"What kind of note?"

"The kind that makes no fucking sense, with the exception of the name of the girl. And something else,” he murmured vaguely. “Whoever did this is a fucking maniac." I grinned at that, because not so long ago he called me the same thing. "Don't smile, man," Jax grumbled. "That girl up there fought against Vega last night."

That got my attention.

"Yeah, I can see that tickled your interest."

"Which one was she?" I asked, feigning disinterest.

"The one that pummeled into Vega until she broke her ribs." I winced inwardly. "At least, that's what it seemed like."

Vega didn't have broken ribs, I checked it myself. Her friends were too busy yelling at me to notice when I touched her sides as she buried her face in my neck. I was worried I had woken her up, but one look at her told me she was out for the count. But that didn't mean she wouldn't be in a lot of pain today, which explained the way she held herself up earlier.

"Anyway," Jax continued. "It seems that our little Vega—" He looked at her across the field, his eyes narrowing, and a thought I never had before, not when it came to Jax, crossed my mind—I didn't want him looking at her. I didn't want anyone looking at her, and that was a problem in itself. "—has a fan," he finished, his words reminding me of what he said.

"What are you talking about?" I frowned. "Are you saying?—"

"I'm saying that whoever did this," he looked up at the girl, "did it because she hurt Vega, and between the two of us…" he trailed off. "I'm not so sure it wasn't Vega herself that killed this girl."

"No." I shook my head. "That's impossible. She was unconscious when I took her to her room. There's no way?—"

"Adrian." Jax placed his hand on my shoulder, stopping my rambling. "Who do we know that uses this exact technique to send a message to its enemies?"

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