Page 26 of Born into Madness
“Jesus,” I whisper to the empty room, and then I grab my phone and type the sentence into a translation tool. It kind of makes me feel like I’m cheating, but I don’t have time to work my way through it on my own. When I see what he’s written, my phone slips from my hand, landing right next to the note that says,
You look beautiful when you sleep, my Cyn.
Two hours later I’m sitting across from Sav, drinking coffee while we sit in her room at the Kappa house. I’ve just told her almost every detail from last night. I’m not sure why I don’t tell her the nickname he calls me or the note he left me, but even without those details the shocked look on her face makes it clear I’ve shared enough to scare the hell out of her.
It had taken me an hour to work up the courage to leave my dorm room. I’d snuck out in sweats, an oversized sweatshirt that saysEvery Day is Hump Day: Spay & Neuter Your Pets, and a baseball cap. The idea that I’ve hidden myself from my savior/stalker would be laughable if I wasn’t so scared.
“Jesus Christ, Cindy, you have to go to the police.”
“And tell them what? I saw a guy kill three other guys, but I can’t tell you what he looks like, and by the way, there aren’t any bodies and zero evidence.”
“The police can find clues that you can’t,” she insists. “They’ll find blood at the scene, and you know his eye color, his build, and the fact that he’s walking around with a Doberman. I mean, that’s gotta narrow it down a bit, right?”
“He knows where I live,” I remind her.
She looks completely gutted when she says, “This is all my fault. I never should have let you leave by yourself last night.”
I grab her hand and squeeze it. “This is absolutely not your fault. You had a migraine so bad you couldn’t even stand to have the lights on, and I never would’ve let you walk me back to the dorms anyway.”
“We could’ve gotten one of the Alphas to do it,” she insists, and when I raise a brow at her, she says, “One of the trustworthy ones.”
“Are there any of those at that frat house?”
“It would’ve been slim pickings,” she admits, “but we could’ve found one. I’m really sorry you had to go through all this and that I wasn’t there to help you. I hate that you spent the night scared and alone while I just laid here like a completely useless lump.”
“Not completely useless,” I tell her. “I knew I could run to you if I had to. A safe place to sleep is pretty useful, right?”
She’s too concerned to laugh, but she does give me a small smile and pats the pillow next to her. “You’re sleeping here with me until we figure out what to do.”
“I can’t move into the Kappa house,” I tell her, “but I can stay tonight.”
“You have to stay longer than that. What if he comes back?”
“He won’t,” I say, and I try really hard to pretend it’s what I want. He scared the hell out of me, he’s a killer without remorse,and I shouldnotwant to see him again. I shouldn’t be curious about who he is, I shouldn’t care that he loves my hair and was surprisingly gentle with me, and I really shouldn’t care that he turned me on in my dream. None of that matters.
Leaning back on Sav’s bed, I say, “If he wanted to hurt me, he would have. I really don’t think I’ll ever see him again.” I turn my head so I can see her. “He’s really nice to his dog. That has to count for something, right?”
My best friend’s blue eyes narrow as she studies me. “Jesus Christ, Cindy, don’t you dare fall for the masked crazy guy who stabbed three people in front of you.”
“What are you talking about?” My voice sounds higher than usual, but I’m too stunned for it to sound normal.
“You’re an absolute sucker for a guy who’s kind to animals.”
“I’m not falling for the serial killer,” I tell her. “I just happened to notice that he does have one good quality.” I don’t mention that I also noticed a few others because it sounds crazy even to my own ears. No, the masked man is purely in thebadcategory, even if I do love his dog.
Sav eventually lets it go, and we spend the rest of the day hanging out. My mind keeps wandering back to what happened, and she keeps distracting me and pulling me back to the present. On Sunday, though, I insist on going back to my schedule, because I can’t stay hidden at the Kappa house. After volunteering for a few hours at the animal shelter, I leave feeling more like myself again. Being able to love on the sweetest dogs imaginable will do that to a person.
When I get back to my dorm, everything looks the same, and I pretend I’m happy to not find a new note waiting for me. I keep pretending on Monday when I go to my classes and complete my four hours at the vet clinic, and on Tuesday when nothing out of the ordinary happens.
It’s for the best.
I know this, but it doesn’t stop my heart from jolting in my chest on Wednesday when I turn my head and see a pair of very broad shoulders disappearing around the corner before I can get a good look at the guy. No one’s screaming, so I’m guessing whoever it is isn’t wearing a mask, but that doesn’t mean it’s not my guy.
My guy?
The thought pops in my head without invitation or an ounce of truth. He’s notmyguy, like he’s my own personal masked psycho that I’ve just laid claim to. He’s probably already forgotten all about me. Hell, he probably left my dorm and went straight to his girlfriend’s place and had hot, animalistic sex for the rest of the night while I laid in my tiny dorm bed, hugging my stuffed dog and having disturbing dreams that I still refuse to try and decipher.
Yeah, that sounds about right.
