Page 96 of Fatality

I tried talking to Liam.

I could see in his eyes that he wanted to believe me, but without any proof, he eventually convinced himself it had all been a nightmare.

He kept telling me everything would be okay and that I needed to stop watching horror movies before bed.

Is he fucking serious?

He was more upset about my lie—thinking I'd slept at Elyas's apartment the other night—than about the fact that an actual monster had broken into my home.

No one actually believes me. Not even Liam.

So why should I bother talking about it?

The only people I talk to about Evren and his failed attempt to kill me are Jules and Charlie.

They were horrified at first. Jules almost broke her wine glass when she heard the story. Charlie had tears in her eyes.

I told them what he looked like, what he said, how he'd wrapped his hand around my throat, how he'd grabbed my thigh before I kneed him, and how he'd caught the frying pan.

Their expressions changed.

Charlie actually looked at me like I was some kind of weirdo before getting completely invested in the story, insisting that he was probably the most psychotic man alive but somehow sounded incredibly sexy.

Jules slapped the back of her head, flicked my forehead, and warned me to stay the hell away from him.

Of course. Like I would ever want to be near him again.

I know I'm being crazy, I need to stop being paranoid.

But he told me he'd come back.

And strangely, I believe him.

I just want Evren to fucking die in a ditch and never come back after what he did.

But at the same time, a dark part of me wants him to come back.

Not because I want to see his face. I'd really like to stab him in the dick.

For real.

I haven't slept properly since.

I want revenge for my stolen nights, and I also want proof.

I want to show everyone that I'm not fucking crazy and that someone from Below—a fucking gang leader, no less—really did break into my apartment.

I spend my days working, exhausted, tattooing clients and taking care of my studio.

Between appointments, I end up sleeping at my station like a goddamn baby, grabbing whatever rest I can before the next customer walks through the door.

How am I supposed to stay close to everyone when the only person I can think about is Evren?

Every conversation drifts back to him.

Every quiet moment turns into another fantasy about all the different ways I could make him pay for what he did.

It's exhausting.