Page 27 of The Monster and the Masochist

Reducing her down to a vile slur made me suddenly hate the fact that I’d let Nolan touch me in any capacity, let alone behind closed doors.

It was like a switch flipped, and suddenly, the part of me that made my therapist use words like psychopath clawed its way to the surface.

All of the warm, human pieces that made me Cassandra disappeared in the blink of an eye.

I had an abrupt visceral vision of me smashing Theo’s forgotten rocks glass and using the shards to slice Nolan’s neck open from ear to ear.

‘Do it,’ my monster hissed. It was growling in my ear as it paced the length of the mental cage I kept it in.

Instead of giving in to the urges I’d been fighting my entire life, I slowly removed Nolan’s hand from my back and met his gaze dead on.

I watched the blood drain from his face with cold satisfaction as I let him see a part of me that I rarely let out of its cage.

“If you ever say anything like that in front of me again, I will kill you.” My voice was low, quiet, and devoid of any emotion. It was more of a growl than a whisper, and there was a brief flicker of real fear in Nolan’s face as what I’d said registered.

His mouth parted in surprise, and for a second, he looked like he was going to try and laugh it off, but as he studied my expression, he quickly realized I wasn’t kidding.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. That was inappropriate. I apologize.”

He reached out, as if he were going to wrap his hand around my waist, but I snatched up his wrist in a vice grip, still fighting to get a hold of the cold, lethal fury that was pumping through my veins.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” I hissed, then I dropped his hand and left the bar.

The second I stepped out into the street, I found myself frantically searching for Theo, but she was nowhere to be seen.

Alexa Play: What Was I Made For? by Billie Eilish

“You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay…” I chanted to myself as I pushed my shitty Honda to its limits in an attempt to get to my safe space as quickly as possible.

I’d only had one drink at the bar, but that was about to swiftly change.

I’d stopped long enough to pick up that bottle of vodka I’d successfully denied myself the night before, and now it was a comforting weight in my lap as I tore into Fairview.

I was already cracking the top open and downing a few fiery mouthfuls as I stumbled out of my car and rushed into my guest house.

That wasn’t real.

I hadn’t seen him.

There was no way he was actually there. Cass had said it had been a buyout for her firm. He couldn’t have actually been there.

It was my mind playing tricks on me.

This wasn’t the first time I’d imagined him in weird places. It happened a lot more when I was younger. Sometimes I would see him turning corners in college, or I’d wake up and think he was looming over my bed.

Nausea and panic tore through my stomach, and I swallowed more vodka as I rushed into my bathroom. Setting the bottle on the counter, I ripped open the top drawer and fumbled inside with shaking fingers until I found what I was looking for.

I let out a raspy gasp of relief as my fingers closed around the familiar feeling of a Q-Tip, and I sank to my knees on the bathroom floor, clutching it desperately to my chest and crushing my eyes shut.

Three good things. Three good things…

My mind was scrambled, and the booze seemed to be taking forever to kick in.

I couldn’t think of anything good.

It wasn’t fucking working!

I choked on a sob and rocked back onto my heels, wrapping my arms around my knees as a flashback ripped through me.