Page 229 of Satan's Spawn
“Well, I have her mugshot in my pocket.”
“Are you going to show it to me?”
He looks as though he’s debating it.
“Show it to me, Archer. Now.”
He slowly pulls out a paper from his pocket, this one folded into a rectangle.
Archer holds it out, only to weed it back.
I snatch it from him with annoyance.
The look on his face is apologetic, but I’m not there quite yet. I’m too wrapped up in this twisted epiphany.
“Maybe you should—” Archer attempts to ease the blow but a loud intake of my breath tells him it’s too late.
She’s young, likely too young to have an eight year old son. Long white hair…blue eyes.
The skin. It’s pale like…
Nausea creeps up again, but this time there’s no stopping it.
I hurl out the entirety of my breakfast onto the carpet by my feet. Chunks of pancake and orange pulp litter the floor, and I keep heaving until nothing but bile expels from my lips.
Archer rubs my back, trying to soothe me.
But it’s no use, I hate myself.
Maybe even more than I hate Miriam Thatcher.
“I look just like her.” I breathe heavily. “How is that possible?”
“I don’t know, Bex. But I have to agree, the resemblance is uncanny.”
You’re no fucking help, Archer.
When my stomach is finally empty, I take deep inhales as I gather myself.
When Archer hands me a tissue from my nightstand, I pluck it and swipe the residue off my face.
The overwhelming need to comfort Crayton hits me like a ton of bricks.
No wonder he despised me, I look so much like the woman who tortured him. Did unspeakable things to him. Made him the way he is.
“I have to go.” I spring to my feet, feeling my legs buckle underneath me.
“Where the heck are you going right now, Bex?” Archer asks, looking down at the mess I made then back at me.
I swipe my bag and the papers off my bed as I say, “Where the heck do you think, Archer?!”
Crayton
I’m tearing my room apart piece by piece as I look desperately for my fucking knife.
I had it tucked away in the back of my nightstand as always— and given I forgot to take it yesterday to Rebecca’s house, and the school building is a couple janitors short of empty, the weapon somehow jumped out of its hiding spot and took right the fuck off.
Letting out a deep roar, I send every single object on my desk crashing to the floor with one fell swoop of my hands.
