Page 53 of The Cute Psycho

"That was a close call," I say, almost breathless. "I hope I won't have to jump out the window every single time."

"And miss falling in my arms? Why ever not?" he replies, amused.

I shake my head, pushing at his shoulder and jumping down.

He opens the door for me, inviting me inside.

"I'm surprised you have manners," I observe dryly as he gets behind the wheel, buckling his seatbelt.

Head tilted to the side, he gives me a dangerous look.

"The moment I forget my manners," he starts, his tone bleak, "you run."

I blink twice, surprised at the quick change in his disposition.

"Is that what happened at Sacre Coeur?" I ask, curious.

He purses his lips, and for a moment he doesn't seem inclined to answer my question. But then I see an almost imperceptible nod.

"If that happens again, you need to run as far away from me as you can," he eventually says, and a chuckle escapes me. He doesn't share my sentiment, his features still grave.

He's not joking.

I immediately sober up, and a million questions go through my head.

"Are you... ill?" I muster the courage to ask.

A dry laugh escapes him, his eyes still focused on the road.

"Ill... I wish. At least an illness has a cause... and a cure. What I have has neither."

"I don't understand," I reply, frowning at his cryptic words.

"It's not for you to understand, Sisi. Most days I don't understand myself either." He smiles ruefully. "But I've had enough time to come to grips with the fact that I may never be okay."

"How long have you had this... condition?"

"Condition... That's an interesting way to put it. Who knows, maybe I've always had it. I don't remember a time when I was different. It just got progressively worse over the years."

"Does it hurt?"

He spares me a glance.

"Not for me," he states, and I remember the way his eyes had been glazed over, how his hands had been ready to end my life. Except he hadn't.

"You were going to kill me, weren't you?" I push, seeing this as an opening to learn more about him.

"Yet I did not," he replies ambiguously.

"Why?"

He doesn't answer for a moment. He slowly turns toward me, his eyes clear, his gaze shrewd.

"That's what I'm trying to find out."

We don't speak for the longest time. I try to come to grips with what he's just told me, and a chill envelops my body.

Isn't that what captivated you in the first place? The pure savagery hiding behind the expensive suit.

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