Page 156 of Craving Venom

Tria squints. “Something about… eyes?”

A chill seeps into my bones, tightening around my chest and stealing the air from my lungs as if unseen hands are closing in.

No.

No no no.

I thought it was a metaphor.

I shoot up to my feet. My chair scrapes hard against the floor, and Tria flinches.

“Faith?”

“We need to go. Now.”

Xaden blinks. “Wait, are you actually into eye art or—”

“No.” My voice is flat, urgent. “Just—come on.”

We don’t run, but we move quickly with tense shoulders and driving strides, weaving through the thick stream of students pouring into the east corridor.

We step inside, and my breath catches in my throat. Rows of glass bottles stretch across long white tables. Inside them float human eyes that are preserved in murky fluid. Some are rimmed with the faint smear of blood, while others are wide open, frozen as if they witnessed the horror of their end and never looked away.

Tria steps closer with her hand covering her mouth. “What the fuck is this?”

Xaden stares in disbelief. “Is this real? Like… are those actual—”

Yes.

I already fucking know.

My legs drag like anchors, and my stomach twists violently because this isn’t art and it sure as hell isn’t performance.

It’s a message.

A declaration from him.

An exhibit carved straight from obsession.

I don’t hear Tria calling after me or Xaden trying to catch up. My legs are already moving before my mind can process it, carrying me out of that goddamn room and straight across campus.

By the time I slam the door to my dorm room shut behind me, I’m already trembling. I know I shouldn’t, I really fucking shouldn’t, but I grab my phone and dial anyway.

“Thank you for calling Veridian Correctional Facility. If you are an attorney or legal representative, press one. If you are calling to schedule an inmate visit, press two. If you would like to speak with an inmate through monitored communication, press three. To return to the main menu—”

Three.

“Please enter the inmate ID number now.”

I enter the number that I’d seen on his profile onwriteracriminal.com

There’s a brief moment of silence, followed by a click before his words come through the speaker.

“Good girl,” he says calmly as if he’s been anticipating this call all day.

“What the fuck did you do?”

“I missed you too.”

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