Page 56 of Massacre Monday
In my room, I lie on my back and stare at the ceiling in the dark. The space is a little too quiet. Questions repeat in my mind, not allowing me to sleep, so I flick on my lamp and grab my phone, but the thoughts won’t stop coming.
Unknown number
What’s it like to sleep with a dead whore’s face watching you? Did you do something to displease me?
Unblinking, I stare at the message, bile rising to the back of my throat. Fear overwhelms me. Hand trembling, I delete the text and block the number—again. They keep coming. Doesn’t matter. The words have already seeped beneath my skin and injected themselves into my bloodstream.
Who’s sending these? Is it Ryan? The tone is possessive and deranged like him, but he’s given me up now. Hasn’t he? Is there any getting away from him completely?
Regret settles in my stomach like gravel as I wonder… Do I even want that?
I sit up with a gasp. What about the cloaked man in the woods? The one who moved like he was anointed when he cut open that body. Like the kill was aritual, not from rage.
The visions flood my mind, even as I try to push them away. A man collapsed beneath the stabbing figure and me only a few feet above. Hovering over the horror below. Frozen. Hiding. Hushed. And praying I wouldn’t be next.
It was the first time I’d seen someone die. And I’ve been trying not to think of it ever since.
With a rapid pulse, I slide the phone under my pillow, as if I’m hiding it from the gods. But the weight of the words still burns into my skull.
I don’t know why someone would put Gwen’s face onmydoor. Other than being friends for the last year and roommates, what other connection did I have with her? Did they do it just to scare me? If so, it definitely worked.
Best-case scenario? It had nothing to do with me. Maybe it was meant for her parents. Or for someone else. Maybe that’s just horrible wishful thinking.
When I want to feel safe again, the only person who can truly soothe me is my overprotective dad. He’s the one who can make everything okay. More so than Oz or Adal, even my mom. Dad will comfort me in a way no one can.
Eventually, I fall asleep watchingCluelesson repeat on my tablet while trying to envision what clothes would fill my electric closet racks.
As soon as my early morning class on Friday is over, I rush to the parking lot and jump on my Harley, heading toward Gnarled Pine Hollow.
The wind whips around me in chilled waves, but my leather jacket and jeans protect my skin. It’s almost getting too cold to ride, which means I’ll have to bring my Jeep back when I return to campus on Sunday night. But I’ll miss the feeling of my Harley beneath me, especially on these back curvy roads leading me home. Without telling Mom, I head straight to The Bear Cage, wanting to hang with my dad. And Adal, too.
It’s not typically very busy on Friday afternoons. There are plenty of spaces to park, though I do see a fancy Aston Martin shining among my family’s motorcycles. Maybe one of the Von Dovish boys got a new toy.
When I enter, the steamy scent of sweat assaults my nose. It’s something I’m used to and reminds me of my dad, as does the sound of fists punching and bodies being thrown about. Dad leans over the front counter, tapping on the computer’s keyboard, but smiles brightly as he sees me. Rounding the desk,he grabs me in a tight squeeze. “Hey, pup. I didn’t know you were coming!”
“Yeah. I just needed to see you.”
“I’m glad you did. You been by to see your mother yet?”
“No. Came straight here. Didn’t think you’d be busy.” I look around his big figure to the mats in the next room, where Adal is sparring with someone.
“Just been training that new guy… He’s really good. Want to meet him?”
Shrugging, I say, “Sure.” I don’t actually care.
Dad leads me with a hand on my shoulder to the back room. Adal straightens up to grab some water, and his opponent turns toward us, tossing his sweaty black hair.
My heart stops.
“Hey! P.I.C. Look at you!” Ryan swipes at his bloody nose with taped knuckles as his light blue eyes rake over my figure.
“T-this is who you’ve beentraining?” I can hear myself speak, but it’s more like a whisper to my dad.
“Yeah, Ryan here’s doing great. One of the best students we’ve had in a long time,” Dad says.
The way my father looks at him makes my temper ignite. He’ssmitten,and Ryan won’t take his eyes off me, an obvious difference from the last time I saw him.
“Seems like you know each other,” Dad says with a smirk as wide as Ryan’s. Adal throws a towel in Ryan’s face, then takes one for himself. Cleaning up some of the mess, Ryan mops his forehead with it.
