Page 128 of Make You Mine

Deep inside me, I knew it. Who else would torment me, play with me, show me a bit of humanity, then treat me as a toy for his own needs? He’s the only one who’s done it before and got away with it.

“Kayden?”

35

KAYDEN

My blurry vision sharpens at once, seizing on the image in front of me.

Madelyn is leaning against the copy machine, her body covered in nothing but black inscriptions, dancing around her breasts and going all the way down to her pussy.

She’s naked, and there’s dry blood staining her thighs, now coated with fluids.

W-what’s going on?

“I’m Devon,” I hear myself say. Yet, the words don’t feel right.

No. “I’m Kayden.”

“Stop it,” Madelyn says. A frown creasing her brows. “This isn’t funny anymore.”

I focus on the blood between her thighs—the fluids.

My cock twitches, and I stare down at myself. Traces of cum on my tip, red stains around my shaft.

What did I—Surely we didn’t⁠—

No. It can’t be.

Did I let it get this far? Did I corrupt my sweet little demon?

“I can’t believe you.” Maddy presses her arms against her chest, a bad attempt at covering herself. “I can’t believe it was you all along. Am I a fucking game to you?” she hisses. “God, how could I be so stupid to think you’d changed?”

As she speaks, anger lacing every word, the pieces start to connect.

Last thing I remember, I was in the locker room, having found Joseph’s body, and that cryptic message that I finally deciphered. That’s when it all went black.

It was me, but it wasn’t me.

I saw everything he did. I was there, but I didn’t have control over it.

I thought I was dreaming—a twisted dream I couldn’t wake up from.

Dreaming through the lens of a killer who’s obsessed with my stepsister.

Who’d do anything to have her. A killer who doesn’t deserve her.

A hand flies to the back of my head, wanting to have my fingers tangled through my hair. Instead, it grabs at the plastic holding onto it. A mask. My fingers trace over the curves of it. I take it off and spin it toward me.

That same neon red mask I’ve seen, with the Xs slashed through the eyes.

If there was any doubt in me, it dissipates. The messages and reminders I had on my phone, the notes, and threats—it was me all along. There was no way to catch the bastard because there was no bastard to catch.

I’ve been playing a game of cat and mouse with myself, with my own trauma.

How do I tell Madelyn this? She’s expecting a freaking coherent answer to this mess I’ve been making.

The small windows of lost time throughout the years make sense now. How sometimes I’d fall asleep and forget what I was doing or that I’d done something. How I knew things that felt like déjà vu. The freaking confusion seven years ago when I leaked the sex tape of Madelyn and me in front of all our college peers.