Page 168 of Prettiest Psycho


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A strange feeling of dread begins to fill me. The kind of feeling you get when you know something is very wrong. A feeling I’ve only ever felt in life-or-death situations.

My body becomes drenched in a cold sweat as panic grips me.

I take another step, and then another, making my way to the bathroom. I’ve never been one to scare easily, but there’s something about this silence that’s getting to me.

As I reach the door to the bathroom, a sudden movement catches my eye. I whip around, my heart pounding in my chest, and see the outline of a figure standing in the doorway I just came through.

“Kayla?” I whisper, my throat suddenly dry

“No. I couldn’t sleep. I feel I owe her an explanation,” Ghost says, his eyes wild and sleep-derived. He looks rough, but I can’t muster up the energy to care about him whenshe’sgone.

“She’s not here. I don’t know where she is.”

Where is she? She never leaves her room at night. I should know, I fuck her into the sweetest oblivion and leave her so sated she doesn’t need to go looking for relief elsewhere.

She’s become my anchor in this sea of madness, the only reason I’ve managed to hold on to some semblance of sanity. I just hide it better than the others. from the moment she offered me a drink, I was a goner for her.

“Wasn’t she out with Hatchet tonight?” he asks me carefully, as though he can sense the tension rolling through my body and is suddenly wary of me. Of what I can – and will – do when I snap.

I nod but it’s a jerky, involuntary movement. “Yeah. Do you think they’re still out there?”

“One way to find out.” Ghost pulls his phone from his sweatpants pocket and rattles off a quick text.

“Try Kayla’s phone. Call her,” I instruct. It’s pointless calling Hatchet, obviously. Ghost tries Kayla’s phone, and it comes to life on her nightstand, lighting up the darkened room and buzzing across the wood. My mind races with dark, terrifying thoughts. Where is she?

“Fuck. She can’t be out with Hatchet still. She’d have her phone with her to communicate with him.”

Just then, Ghost’s phone beeps with a message and my heart soars. Maybe she’s in Hatchet’s room with him.

“He says they’re back. He saw her to her room and left. She should be in bed.”

“Well, tell him she’s fucking not!” I snap, as anxiety churns in my stomach. My grip on my rage is slipping. My control is ebbing. “And while you’re at it, go and wake the others. Check she’s not with any of them. If not, we need to start a search party.”

“Alright, on it.”

Ghost disappears, rushing along the corridor calling the others’ names, and I’m left in the dark. The sudden silence is almost deafening. The usual noises of the facility – muffled cries, tantalising whispers of darkness, the occasional scream – are all absent. It’s as if the world has gone eerily silent, save for the rapid thumping of my heart.

Kayla should be in her room, in her bed, or in one of our beds. She shouldn’t be able to move around the asylum because they lock all of the doors at night. With the exception of our rooms, which don’t have locks, and the door to the outside because we’re on a fucking island and where would we go?

It’s about keeping us from snooping, not keeping us safe

What if she’s not even inside the building? She could be anywhere on the island, and I know she’s not been out much to explore. She could easily get lost, or even hurt in the dark.

I take off across the hallway to my room, needing to put some clothes on to go look for her.

Once I’m back in my room, I leave the door open, then turn on the light. I’m no longer tired. I feel awake and uncomfortably alive, the way I used to when the last kill didn’t give me the high I needed to sustain me until the next one.

I rummage around in the back of my closet, looking for something appropriate to wear. Seems stupid, to be worrying about clothing when Kayla might be in danger, but if I’m about to go traipsing all over the island looking for her, I can’t very well do that in my usual three piece suit. But it’s virtually all I wear.

At the back of the closet I find the gym bag I sometimes use, and pull out my workout gear.

It reminds me of the day in the pool. When everyone was forced to confront their demons but me. I don’t have any demons. No skeletons in my closet. Nothing haunting me.

Or so I thought.

Watching Kayla battle with the water, and knowing I couldn’t help her, nearly drove me insane. Like now. The possibility that she could be hurt, or gone…that’s my demon. The force of my feelings for her.

I can’t lose her. Iwon’tlose her.

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