Page 262 of Satan's Spawn
Stuffing the phone back in my pocket, I trudge toward the gym, already reaching into my pants to pull out my pack of cigarettes.
But when I open it there’s none left.
“Fuck.” I curse under my breath, spinning around and jogging back to my room where the carton is.
Beamont’s secretary makes her way toward me when I reach the hall, side-eyeing me as I pass her, but not daring to comment on why I’m not in class.
I’m sure Dad will get a call from Beaumont, courtesy of Beckett who’s got just as much of a hard on as my father to help mesucceed.
By the time I reach my dorm room I can hear the bell ringing in the distance, and it’s only a matter of time before Rebecca is bursting through the door to wave her finger at me.
Pulling my nightstand drawer open, I grab the box of cigarettes and scrape one out from the bottom.
Ripping off the plastic wrap, I toss it into the bin and pull open the top with more force than necessary, leaving the box to flip flop around my hands before hitting the floor near the bed.
Because the fumble pisses me off even more, the universe decides to take it further by having me kick it under the bed in my attempt to pick it up.
“Fucking hell,” I get down on the floor to reach for it, but thanks to my Docs, it slid to where I can’t reach with minimal effort.
“All this for a cancer stick.” I stretch my arm, but it’s still beyond my reach.
Jumping to my feet I use both hands to push the bed, sliding it almost halfway to Saint’s side of the room.
That’s when I see it.
And I don’t mean my cigarettes.
My knife is staring me back in the face like it’s screaming “ha-ha you fucking asshole”.
I snatch it up swiftly, still not processing it’s in my hand.
This entire time the fucking thing has been under my bed.
But I could’ve sworn I checked under there.
Flipping it open, I examine the knife as if trying to make sure it’s real.
Same scrapes and carvings into the blade, and scuff on the medal handle.
This is really it.
Thinking back to every single second I spent on a hunt for it, camping outside Alexis’ mansion, even threatening the bitch and her asshole bodyguards.
All for nothing, because the only asshole here is me.
Alexis saw an opportunity to provoke me, and she ran with it, hoping it would draw me back to her cunt.
Like the time I thought I lost the knife, I swipe all the contents of my nightstand onto the floor with a guttural roar.
This could’ve all been avoided if my dumb ass did a solid sweep under the bed.
Instead I slept, fucked, and plotted murder as it watched, whipping out the popcorn.
A knock at the door has me screaming for whoever it is to fuck off, but then I remember the girl who’s going to give me more shit if I make her late to class.
When I swing the door open I find Rebecca standing there in her uniform, arms crossed and tapping her foot against the floor.
“Should I still fuck off?”
