Page 116 of The Demons We Hide

I take a look around the rest of the room and stop when I look to the board plastered across the left side of the room. It almost looks like one of those crime boards from television shows, minus the red string. Instead, there’s just a collection of pictures and other small bits of paper.

A receipt from the diner I vaguely recall Lex taking me to the night I’d smashed a brick through his back windshield. A ribbon that looks like something a kindergartener would win in class. And pictures—loads of pictures.

Black and gray ones. Grainy ones. High-definition ones. Some in color. Some from Silverwood Prep football games. Some at fancy galas. There are so many my head spins, but they all have one thing in common.

Me.

Each and every photograph plastered to the wall is of me. They’re posted with no visible rhyme or reason. Some are from years past. My childhood primary school graduation. Pictures from when I had social media accounts that I regularly updated. Vacations with Avery and Bran. Me in bikinis. Me in dresses. Me in workout gear. The most recent ones stop the air in my lungs.

Me… sleeping, curled up against Nolan’s pillows with my lips parted and my eyes closed. Me, sitting on the bleachers next to Roquel and Mads. Me, in class, absently biting the end of one pencil. Candids. Pictures I didn’t even know were being taken.

My stomach drops.

“What the fuck?”

I stand there, rooted to the floor and unable to drag my gaze away from the violation before me. Questions attack my mind.

Where did they come from? How long has he had them? Who took them all? How long has he been collecting them? And worst of all…why?

I turn to the computers and take a seat. There has to be more, I decide as I start tapping away on the keyboard. How much more, I don’t know, but I have to find out, and find out I do.

He makes it easy for me. His folders are labeled and I find the multiple with my name, clicking on it and finding far more than could ever fit into this tiny ass room. Picture after picture—some pulled from security feeds and some easily copied from social media.

At the end of one of the folders, there’s a video. Heart in my throat and stomach on a vacation, I click on it.

Moving images pop up on the center monitor of the three in front of me. Sickness creeps back into my veins and the nausea I thought I’d banished in the shower flies back to me.

“Spread your thighs.” Gio’s voice is the first to come out of the speakers and I stare, in a combination of horror and arousal, as the scene I know too fucking well plays out in front of me.

Naked, bare, vulnerable. I am all three of those things as I sit in the chair before the computer screens and watch myself get fucked by one of the Scorpion Kings. I made a sex tape and I never even knew.

“Fuck yourself with my knife and show me how you get off,” Gio says.

I’m going to be sick. Actually ill.

I cover my mouth and turn away, slapping the fucking keyboard until the video turns off and I can breathe again.

“What. The. Fuck.” Why? Why would he do this? Why would they…

To fuck with you, of course.An irritated inner voice snaps.Did you really think they cared about you? Of course not. No one in Silverwood gives a shit if you live or die.

I shake my head. No, they came for me. They rescued me.

They put a gun in your hand and forced you to kill someone,the voice responds.

No, that’s not right. I—they didn’t force me. I did it on my own.

But would you have if they didn’t give you the gun?

My eyes burn and I shove my palms against them, squeezing my eyelids shut to keep the tears from falling. “What the fuck? What the fuck? What the actual fucking fuck!” I scream.

“Juliet.”

I whirl around, standing up so suddenly from the desk that my towel nearly unravels. I capture it quickly, gripping it and holding it to my chest like a lifeline. Lex stands in the doorway, a duffle bag hooked over his shoulder.Myduffle bag. I hadn’t even heard him return.

He’s changed since I was in the shower. Gone is his uniform and in its place are a pair of dark washed jeans and a black t-shirt that makes the tattoos rippling down his arms stand out even more than normal. His hair is pulled away from his face, tied off in a knot and revealing just how fucking wide his eyes are.

He looks at me and I stare back at him. Shock. Confusion. Fear. Emotions swarm my system as my heart races inside my chest. It’s him. He’s beenfollowingme.Stalking me.

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