Page 102 of Wicked Minds
“Just a little bit longer,” I mutter to myself, picking up my pace as I leave the campus grounds behind and hurry through the streets of Halston.
My hand is trembling, tunnel vision setting in by the time I reach my apartment, and I struggle with the lock before the door flies open and I stagger inside.
I have the wherewithal to shut and lock it behind me before I collapse on the floor, bringing my knees up and pressing my forehead against them as the panic attack I’ve been staving off knocks into me with a devastating force.
Tears stream endlessly, and I gasp for breath.
Always such a good girl for me.
“Please,” I sob.
Have you been good for me, Riley?
“Go away!” I clamp my hands over my ears, buthisvoice is in my head.
I’ll make you my sweet little girl again.
I only cry harder.
Aurora looks like she’d be good.
“No!” The broken scream bursts from my mouth. “No. No. NO! She’s mine! You don’t get to touch her!”
Stumbling to my feet, I stagger to the bedroom. I drop to my knees beside the bed and dig my fingers between the floorboards, prying up the loose one and pulling out the hidden manila envelope. Tipping it upside down, nightmares spill onto the floor as I fall back on my ass and stare brokenly down at each of the cards. Eight in total.
Birthday. Christmas.
Twice a year for four years.
The latest one was in my mailbox when Royce dropped me off on Christmas Day.
How is that for irony? Escape one Van Doren only to slam straight into another.
Hope you were a good girl for Santa this year.
That’s what was written inside.
However, what I read was:I’ll always know where you are.
How did he know I was here? Did Grayson tell him I was attending Halston? It was one thing when he found me atBreakthrough, another when he learned I was living with my mom, but this was supposed to be my fresh start.
I didn’t think it mattered when he was locked in a cell. However, now that he will be free in a matter of months, it changes everything.
Desolation crashes down on me as I wrap my arms around my knees, tears blotching my face as I stare at the cards in front of me. Each one is the same—Filled with its own sick taunt. A cruel reminder that I’ll never escape. That he may be behind bars, but that doesn’t mean I’m free.
Because the devastating truth is I’ll never be free of him.
And I could live within this cage knowing he was locked in a separate one, but I can’t go back to sharing it with him.
Curling in on myself, a broken, hopeless sob rips from my throat. My breath catches in my chest and I gasp, my lungs spasming. I sit there until I can’t physically take the pain any longer. Until it feels like I might be crushed beneath the weight of it.
Falling back on old habits, I stumble to the bathroom, ripping open drawers and sending items flying in a bid to find what I’m looking for.
I know it’s here somewhere.
Right when I start to think my lungs will explode from the pressure, I find the small metal blade tucked into the back of a drawer.
Just feeling the familiar weight of it in my palm brings a modicum of relief, even as part of me hates myself for resorting to this.
