Page 50 of The Games We Play

***

I slowly stir awakeand Roxy stretches up the length of my body beside me on the couch. It’s dark outside and I pat myself down for my phone. The time shows after eight and I push up on the couch, Roxy huffing in annoyance.

X hasn’t showed up for weeks. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel disappointed.

I distract myself with a long shower. After washing my hair and shaving everything, I’ve killed nearly thirty minutes. Staring at my reflection, I trace the X on my chest and for the first time envision what my future looks like in this fucked up situation I’ve found myself in.

What happens after X? Is there an after or are his plans still to kill me when he grows bored with me? Do I want there to be an after?

I shake my head and push this derailed train of thoughts away. Nothing good comes from questions like these. I’ll ruin everything if I bring them up.

An unsettling feeling wafts over me as I sit on my bed and I drum my fingers on my knees, pick at my cuticles, bounce my leg, anything to expel this unwanted energy.

Then it clicks.

I need to hunt.

The overwhelming urge of adrenaline that blasts through me has a smile spreading on my face.

I’ve never gone solo before. Maybe now is the time to spread my wings and try hunting myself. Unfortunately, I don’t have a ready list like X or the means to find people like he does.

But I know where one person at least lives that would make perfect prey… Ryan and the football team did a prank on his house last year and, per usual, I was the tag along. Well, tonight, I’m going to be lurking in the shadows, working as death’s personal right-hand woman.

***

I wear the maskX gave me, but keep the lights off as I slink across the backyards of Professor Brady’s fancy subdivision, shimmying between hedges and keeping my hood up to avoid being seen. I remember his house number because I was in charge of standing watch while the football team threw raw eggs and toilet paper across the property. Ryan’s friends made snide comments about why I was even there. As usual, they badgered him about what it was about me that has him so whipped. He easily shrugged them off, and I kept my back to them so they wouldn’t see just how much it bothered me. More like I always felt guilty for him getting so much shit.

What would they think of me now, knowing I’m the monster terrorizing the town?

The Whispering Pines Serial Killer.

A giggle escapes me in the night and I have to clamp a hand over my mouth to muffle the sound. Laughter and low voices catch my attention. I crouch low and peek through the cracks of the privacy fence surrounding the pool and the hot tub of my target’s house.

My blood heats when I spot Professor Brady in the hot tub with none other than Casey Driskel with his hands on her bare breasts. Is thiswhat came of the meeting she had with him the day Seth accused me of cheating? Just in time for finals.

I don’t miss the way she looks away from him as he leans in close. It’s subtle, just a shift of her eyes and a slight angle of her chin. To Professor Brady, it probably looks like she’s exposing her neck more for him, which explains why he moves to kiss and lick up her throat.

I graze my fingers across the hilt of my dad’s old hunting knife. I didn’t plan for him to have someone here, and I don’t want to kill Casey. The idea of her blood pooling at my feet doesn’t give me the same satisfaction as watching Beady-Eyed-Brady beg for his life.

So I’ll wait. X told me patience makes everything sweeter and I’ll test that theory tonight.

Each exasperated moan that slips out of Brady’s mouth makes the taste of his death a honey glaze on my tongue. His hands disappear under the water and heat blushes across Casey’s cheeks. When he sits on the edge of the hot tub and pulls her between his thighs, forcing her head down on his cock, I tighten my hold and force myself to breathe and wait. Once she leaves, he lingers around the pool with a glass of whiskey and music playing softly on the speaker system. On bent knees, I walk around the back of his fence.

My phone vibrates and I tense, worried that somehow Brady could hear it. I pull it out to a text from an unknown number.

You’re breaking curfew.

I glance at Professor Brady again, but he’s gone. The glass sliding door that leads to his pool left cracked.

Shit.

I lock my phone and almost have it back in my pocket whenit vibrates again.

What are you doing, Puppet?

My stomach clamps down and excitement zips through me.

He texted me. After not hearing from him forweeks, one little excursion of fun has him reaching out.

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