Page 111 of Psycho

“What about school?”

“I’m not going to school today!” I yelled, pushing off the mattress and climbing off the bed on the other side. He watched me as if he couldn’t figure me out.

How ironic, considering the man was even more closed off than me.

“What’s this about?” he asked calmly, and the calmer he was, the morenot calmI felt, to the point where I wanted to provoke him into being as angry and as unsure as me.

Something told me I didn’t want to provoke this psycho.

He might not have hurt me the way Dad had, but I knew who was the bigger monster between the two. And I was currently stuck in this house with him.

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Nothing. Just go. I’m not going to school.”

“That’s it? You woke up in a piss-poor mood, and now you’re telling me you’re just not going to school?”

“Yuh,” I grunted.

His eyes flashed silver, and I took half a step back before I thought better of it.

If he was going to get physical, I wanted to know now. At least then, I could watch out for the slap before it came down on my cheek.

This… the way he acted with me—so fucking gently—was messing with my mind. I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, or worse, hoping he would be exactly the kind of man he was portrayed to be, and I hated it.

Hated that I spent the entirety of yesterday after he left thinking about his touch. Thinking of how his fingers had moved gently over my skin as if in reverence.

There was no reverence.

Micah Stone was a fucking psycho.

An unemotional killing machine.

The man wouldn’t know how to be the kind of man I wanted—needed.

I shook my head. “Just leave me alone.”

He took a step toward me, and another one, and another.

I looked up at him, and the closer he got the higher my panic level until I just… didn’t know what to do. I backed up against the wall.

“You have to let me leave. You can’t just keep me here!”

The silver in his eyes brightened. Not in a good way.

It reminded me of the way an animal’s eyes would brighten as it honed in on its prey, just moments away from striking.

I pressed up even closer to the wall.

He pushed one hand against the wall beside my head. I looked at it, then back to him.

There was no escape.

I shook my head, though I didn’t know what I was saying no to now.

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” I asked, my voice trembling, giving away my feelings. “Why can’t you just let me leave? You know I can’t tell anyone about you. I won’t.”

“You think it’s about that?” he asked, his voice unemotional, and how badly I hated that. “You think I’m afraid you’re going to tell on me?”

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