Page 68 of The Art of Being a Psychopath

The hairs on the back of my neck prickled as he gasped, and then said, “Holy fucking shit. No fucking way. Emma. You’re gonna want to see this.”

CHAPTER

TWENTY-SEVEN

EMMA

What the hell had he found up there?

A dead body?

A store of weapons?

A psychotic artist who was squatting, intent on making my life hell?

The last one seemed pretty valid at this point.

Feeling nervous, I cried out, “What is it?”

He shook his head in bewilderment as he climbed off the chair and pointed up at the open hatch leading to the attic.

“You need to see it for yourself.”

He took my hand in his, eliciting sparks of electricity as he helped me onto the chair. I know he felt it too, from the heated stare he gave me. Then he stood close to me for safety as I lifted my head to peer up into the attic.

My attic was an expanse of dusty, empty darkness. I didn’t keep anything up here. I’d never even ventured into the space. This was the closest I’d been to entering it in the whole time I’d lived at this house. But as I peered down the length of it, I could see Ethel’s hatch, then another a little way down, and then a fourth at the end. Our attics were all linked. Which wasn’t an unusual thing for Victorian houses to have, but I knew that most houses built like this had their attic spaces bricked up and secured years ago. But not ours, it would seem.

“I guess we know now how he got in,” Alex stated grimly. A fact that made my stomach roll at how vulnerable I’d been all along. How vulnerable we all were. “He could’ve entered any one of these houses and come into your home through the attic. You haven’t got a lock on the hatch. You were easy prey.”

“I didn’t even know it was like this.” I stared down into the dark abyss that was my shared attic space, expecting a demon or some nightmare shadow monster to lurch forward and snatch me into hell. The thought made me shiver and I moved to step down from the chair, as Alex held my hand to help me.

If I’d known it was like that up there, I wouldn’t have slept a wink until it’d been bricked up. I was so fucking stupid to overlook that space. It just hadn’t occurred to me that it was exposed like that. I’d naturally assumed that my attic space was just that, mine and mine alone.

“It won’t be like that for much longer,” Alex announced. “Pack your bags. We’re leaving. Oh, and I’ll need your landlord’s details so I can arrange for the building work to be done. You’re not coming back here until this place is one hundred percent safe and that...” He pointed towards the attic. “Is bricked up and secure.”

I gazed up at him as he spoke, and I could see fury marring his handsome face and a rage of fire burning in his eyes. His jaw was flexing, his muscles taut. Only moments ago, he’d been whispering sweet things to me about intrigue and giving chances, and now, he looked like he wanted to tear my whole house down. I hated that my home was tainted now. My peace and solace had been shattered like the heart that S.K.A.M. had created, Alex had bought for me, and I wanted to throw on a bonfire and forget that a man who called himself S.K.A.M. ever existed.

“I’m sorry I didn’t check it out before. I had no idea,” I said feeling guilty at my naivety.

“You don’t need to be sorry about anything. Other people have put you in danger, and I’m not having it anymore. This bullshit stops right now.”

He picked up the chair and took it back into my bedroom, telling me, “I’ll give you space to pack.” And then he walked away, heading downstairs, leaving me to watch him go as my body echoed with an empty hollowness.

I moved on automatic pilot, throwing a few essentials into a suitcase. Then I zipped it shut and hauled it down the stairs, stopping halfway as he came bounding up to take the case from me.

“Always a gentleman,” I remarked.

“Someone needs to be,” he replied, taking the suitcase downstairs and straight out the door. “It feels like we’re a dying breed sometimes.”

“I hope not.”

I picked up my mail from the hallway before taking one last look at the red words on my wall.

YOU’RE NEXT.

I sighed, feeling the heavy weight of fear and his continual threats dragging me down.

I wouldn’t be next.