“Amorcito?” Ray called out for me, and it sounded as if he half-expected me to be gone. This was a test. I fucking knew it.
“In here,” I called out, not moving a muscle. My hands were folded on top of the table, and the moment Ray rounded the corner into the kitchen, goosebumps rose on my bare legs. I really wished I would’ve been able to find my clothes, because wearing a slip with nothing under it wasn’t that fun when you were preparing yourself for the worst.
“Ah,” he spoke with a smile. “I was worried…” His happy tone halted the moment he saw the knife resting beside me, and I watched his feet stop. He stood ten feet away from me, which was good. Any closer and I might not have enough time to grab it and do what I needed to. “I see you searched the garage. Find anything else interesting?”
The bodies. He meant the bodies, the sick motherfucker.
“The knife is what interests me the most,” I said, pushing out the thought of that innocent couple and the horrific fate they met simply because Ray needed a home base while stalking me. “It’s the same one, isn’t it?” I didn’t know why I had to ask, because I already knew.
A smile grew on Ray’s face. “It is.”
“And am I right in assuming you used this knife to hurt Will and Declan?”
The smile turned into a frown, and a hideous one at that. Some men looked good while frowning—like Travis—but Ray’s frown was simply ugly. “This Will and Declan sound like they got what they deserved.” He cocked his head at me. “Do you plan on using it on me again, Ash?”
God, I hated the way he spoke my name. I hated it so much. How the hell did I ever swoon over this guy? He reviled me. I loathed him and what he stood for with my entire being. I was stupid for ever agreeing to go with him. I should’ve marched back into that party, dragged Kelsey off Sawyer’s dick, and drove us back to Hillcrest.
“Should I?” I shot back, my folded hands parting. One of them went to my lap, the other fiddled with the knife’s handle.
“I don’t suppose it would change anything if I told you I only hurt one of your boyfriends?” Ray asked. “I think I handled the situation rather well, considering how much they fawned over you. I should’ve killed them all, gone for the heart—”
What he said first caught my attention. “One?” I echoed, fingers curling around the knife.
“The one in the apartment,” Ray said, shrugging those shoulders I used to love. “He came onto the scene late, and he seemed to be moving pretty fast with you. The others…didn’t seem as gung-ho. I sent them notes, though. I tried to warn them away, but they didn’t listen.”
I didn’t know how to process what he was telling me. Ray had stabbed Will but not Declan? Then what—
“Whatever happened to the other one, well, that wasn’t me,” Ray said, his smile making its return. “You should be glad I let them be, Ash. I really wanted to kill them all just for looking at you, let alone kissing you and touching you.”
I stood up, still holding the knife. “That is not your decision to make, Ray, it’s mine.” My voice wavered just a bit, and I blamed it on what Ray said. Even now, the bastard tried to get into my head, sought to make me believe things that couldn’t be true.
If Ray didn’t hurt Declan, who did? Did someone else try to kill him, or did he…was the perpetrator Declan himself?
“You’re mine, Ash,” Ray told me. “You said so yourself.” He took a step towards me, and I took a step back. My step drew me away from the counter, away from the kitchen, closer to the hall.
“I lied,” I hissed. The hand holding the knife began to shake, and I couldn’t stop it.
Ray noticed. “What are you doing? Put that down—” He took another step closer to me, and I responded by lifting the serrated edge to my throat, stopping him cold.
“Don’t come any closer,” I said, feeling my throat press against the cold, stained metal with each spoken word. A chill went down my spine, and I hated that it came to this. Was this how my story would end, with me ending my own life in pure spite while doubting Declan? Seemed a terrible way to go.
I didn’t want to die on this day, but if I had to, I would. Ray would not have me again; forever was not a word in our relationship. We were always meant to crash and burn, and if I had to take the wheel and crash us into the nearest tree at full speed, I would.
Ray shook his head, his voice much softer, kinder as he said, “Amorcito, please. Put the knife down.” Desperate, pleading, as if talking to a wild animal and not a person.
“Why should I?” I asked, swallowing against the steel. “You will never let me be, Ray. You’ll never let me live my own life and make my own choices. You’ll always be there, watching.”
“Because I love you—”
“This isn’t love,” I shouted at him. “This is wrong. It was wrong from the start. We both knew it, but we went along with it anyway. If this is how our story has to end, then so be it. I’m ready.” A lie, a terrible lie I wasn’t sure he believed, but I ended the sentence by pressing the knife against my neck harder. The steel bit into my skin, just a hair, enough to make me wince and cause a trickle of blood to fall down my neck and between my breasts, staining the slip.
“Stop!” Ray started for me, but again he stopped when he saw the arm holding the knife tense. “Why are you doing this? I thought I made you happy?”
“You did, once.” AKA before I knew that dating a thirty-something man was wrong, before I knew what he got up to during his time away from me. “But not anymore.” That, at least, was the truth.
“What do you want me to do? I can’t just let you go—”
“You either let me go, or I die right here. The choice is pretty simple, Ray. Stop trying to make it so complicated.”
Ray’s lips thinned into a line, and a dark expression crossed his face. “You’re mine. You’ll always be mine. You know that, even if you leave, I’ll be watching you. And those rich putas at Hillcrest—”
“You’ll leave those rich putas alone,” I told him with vehemence. “If I get one whiff of you trying to hurt any of my boyfriends, if you so much as try to hurt one single fucking hair on their heads, I’ll know. I’ll know, Ray, and I’ll do it.” I hated calling them my boyfriends, but for the sake of the argument, it made things a little simpler.
“They don’t know the real you,” Ray whispered, practically begging me to stop, to change my mind. “They won’t be able to handle you.”
I forced out a smile, even though my neck throbbed with a steady reminder that I’d nicked myself. “Maybe not, but that’s a problem I’ll handle later on. It’s not up to you. Who I’m with is up to me.” I took a step back, down the hall that led to the front door. “If you hurt any of them, Ray, I mean it. I’ll make sure you hurt them in vain.” With no prize, there was nothing to fight over. Remove me from the picture, and Ray would have no reason to go after them.
Ray, ironically, wasn’t as spiteful as me. Without me, he’d have no motivation.
I stepped backwards all the way to the door, locking eyes with him as I bent to pick up the hoodie. Still kind of smelled rancid, but I hoped once I was out of here, walking in the fresh air, the stank would dissipate. “Oh, and I’m taking your knife,” I told him. “Goodbye, Ray.”
I lowered the knife once I got outside, once I was out in the open on a side street I didn’t recognize. I hurried down the driveway as I slipped on the hoodie—it practically covered all of me, since it was Ray’s and I was so thin. The knife fit perfectly in the hoodie’s pocket, hidden from the world.
With my bare feet on the sidewalk in front of the house, I stopped and looked back. In the front window, I saw Ray standing, frowning at me. He would watch me go. He was letting me go, though I knew this wasn’t the end of it. This was merely a temporary respite, a quick getaway from my original monster.
It’d be enough. It was time to come clean.
Chapter Seven – Will
My body ached something fierce. I knew it would take a long time f
or me to heal and feel one hundred percent better—if I ever did; the doctors told me there could be lingering stiffness in the muscle tissue. At least I was alive, though. At least I’d lived through it and hadn’t croaked on my bedroom floor, bleeding out after some unknown assailant attacked me.
There were too many things I needed to do still. Too many things that I’d been sitting back on for a while. I knew the truth about who killed Sabrina, but the world didn’t. The Salvatores either thought she hung herself or blamed Declan. The law dictated her death a suicide, so even though they brought in Declan and questioned him about her and his relationship to her, he wasn’t a part of it.
Declan didn’t know the truth. Declan was…such a kind, loving soul. I wanted to protect him, shield him from the truth. I didn’t want the truth to hurt him, but I knew it would. This truth was not something anyone expected, which was why it hadn’t been investigated.
But I had Sabrina’s other journal. Her true journal. The journal she wrote all of her secrets in. That suicide note she’d written wasn’t the whole truth; it was pieces-parts, lies sewn together to look like truths. I had it, had kept it safe all of this time, waiting for the perfect moment to use it.
I didn’t want to be a drama queen, but I wanted it to be public. I wanted the truth to come out and shock the community. Not everyone in Hillcrest was a good person, and some sterling reputations were merely polished and coated brass.
This…stabbing would put me behind, because I’d planned on doing it soon.
Hell, it wasn’t even the stabbing, if I was honest with myself. Ash had put me behind. Ash was someone, a part of the game I didn’t anticipate. I knew Hillcrest was opening up its campus to girls, and I knew our father had pushed to test it out first, to have a single female student enroll, and I knew why he pushed so hard, too.
I knew why it had to be Ash. It wasn’t because her grades were good or that she was poor. Her looks, her spunk, they were both reminiscent of Sabrina, and Daddy Dearest knew that. He knew that, and it was why he pushed for her to be the one, to room with Declan. It was his way of atoning, but it was too late.
A girl was dead. Someone had to pay.
Though Ash was blonde, though she had an attitude similar to Sabrina, she wasn’t like her. No, Ash was different. More reserved, even if she was prone to lashing out. Stuck inside her own head, whereas Sabrina said what she thought with no filter. Sabrina had her highs and lows, a steady stream of them, and they were even worse when she went off her meds. Declan had told me all about it, and I honestly didn’t see the appeal.
But Ash? Ash was different. I knew it that night, when she was calm at the sight of my brother’s blood. Something was off about her, different. She wasn’t freaking out, not really, not as much as she should’ve been, given the fact that Declan nearly died and her thumb was dislocated. Ash was a riddle, and it seemed she drew a bunch of suitors who all hoped desperately to unwrap her particular tune.
Including me.
I included myself in that number, even though I knew it was wrong. I shouldn’t care for Ash, shouldn’t dream of her, but I did. I did, even though I knew I shouldn’t. It was like she was forbidden fruit, so tempting, so appealing, I couldn’t help but fall for her instantly. She was captivating, beautiful, interesting, and everything a girl should be. There was nothing I’d change about her.
The worst part about it was that Declan cared for her too. Two brothers in love with the same girl. Surely nothing could go wrong there. Surely no drama, no plotting or scheming. There weren’t movies about this particular thing before, no books to detail just why two brothers fancying the same girl was a terrible, awful idea.
Sarcasm. That was all sarcasm, because I could already see this ending in disaster.
And surely it would. Disaster for me, disaster for Declan…disaster for Ash. I didn’t want Ash to hurt, I didn’t want to force any choice on her. It was unfair to do so, to expect her to choose when faced with so many options. I didn’t expect her to just know, at the drop of a hat, who she would choose if she had to.
Of course, if she chose, I wanted her to choose me. The selfish part of me did, anyway. The less selfish part of me wanted her to choose Declan, because I thought she could be good for him, if she stuck around.
Moving around my apartment, it was hard to do things that I normally took for granted. Showering while not caring where water got, even sitting down on the toilet. Yeah, too much information there, but being stabbed in your gut and surgically stitched back together kind of affected your body in a lot of ways.
I was sitting on the couch, staring at the TV across from me. It was off. Nothing was keeping my attention. I was surprised Declan and Ash weren’t over, visiting me, checking in on me. Dad would do his best to try, but I’d push him off and push him away as much as I humanly could. I didn’t like seeing his face. I prayed that once I transferred to Hillcrest next semester I wouldn’t have to.
Grabbing my phone, I dialed Declan’s number. He picked up on the second ring, which seemed awfully quick, almost like he’d been staring at his phone and expecting it to ring. “Will, what’s going on? Are you okay?” he asked, not even giving me a chance to say anything.
He sounded…freaked out, which instantly made me feel sick. Or maybe that was my stomach, since, you know, stabbed.
I said nothing as Declan added, “Shit. You’re at home alone. How are you feeling? I…I’m sorry. There’s a lot going on. I completely forgot. I’m a terrible brother.”
My eyebrows furrowed—it was about the only movement my body could make without me feeling the need to wince. “You’re not a terrible brother. What’s going on? Do you need me?” I wasn’t sure how much help I’d be at this point, but for Declan, I’d do anything.
“You…you should just rest. I don’t want you worrying,” Declan spoke into the phone. “I’m doing enough worrying for the both of us.”
I knew I couldn’t let it end there. I had to know what was going on. “What’s happening, Declan? Tell me.”
I heard him sigh on the other line. “It’s Ash. She’s…gone.”
My back straightened, and I leaned forward, temporarily forgetting about my injury. Pain coursed through me, and I had to lean back slowly, silently cursing myself for moving like that. “What do you mean, she’s gone?” Gone? Gone as in, disappeared? Kidnapped? My mind went through so many possibilities it wasn’t funny.
Funny wasn’t a word I’d use to describe this conversation at all.
“Ash and her friend went to a party last night, and some things happened and…”
“Explain it to me,” I told him, and he did. The whole shebang. The night of the party, how Ash was attacked—attacked, by some girl and a dude in a Batman costume—and then how she saw her friend, Kelsey, bent over in the bathroom with Sawyer.
Fucking Sawyer. Everything always came down to that prick, didn’t it? I hated him, I really did. Nothing Sawyer touched was good. A girl like Ash was too good for him. They were on different levels entirely.
Declan then said she got into a car with someone, and they hadn’t seen or heard from her since. She’d tossed her phone out of the window, so they didn’t have any way to reach her. She was, effectively, gone.
“That’s…” Declan’s voice grew quiet. “That’s not even the worst part, Will. The worst part is who she left with.”
As long as it wasn’t Sawyer, I’d be fine with it.
“She left with a guy named Ray Ruiz. He’s a serial killer that got off on a technicality or something.”
Okay, I took back my previous statement. I wasn’t fine with that, either.
Ray Ruiz? I vaguely recognized his name, though I’d have to look him up after this phone call. It was hard not to hear about serial killers these days, especially the ones that plastered the news.
“She left the party with a serial killer?” I echoed. “Did you call the cops?”
“No,” Declan said. “Travis thinks there’s a connection between them, and
if we get the cops involved, it might be bad for Ash.”
“You know what’s bad for Ash? Being killed,” I spoke into the phone, raising my voice. “What if he hurt her?”
“That thought has crossed our minds—”
“And Travis? I thought you weren’t talking to that guy?” Last I knew, Travis and Sawyer had ganged up on him, which was not something I’d ever forget. Declan was my little brother, and by God, if no one else would protect him, I would.
Declan was quiet for a while. “I wasn’t, but when you were in the hospital and Ash was hit by that car, I…things just happened. We’re talking now, working together for Ash. We’re not friends again, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Him listening to Travis and not calling the cops sounded like a stupid move, but there was little I could do. What would I say to the station if I called in? Hello, I’d like to report a possible kidnapping—no, I wasn’t there, no, I didn’t see it happen. I just heard it through the grapevine and have no evidence of it even happening.
Yeah, somehow I didn’t think that would work out too well.
“Do you want me to come over?” I offered. I wasn’t a cripple; I could still drive.
“No. I’m, uh, I’m at Sawyer’s anyway.”
My blood pressure rose the instant he said that name, I swore. “Why are you at his place?”
“He’s messed-up. I’m keeping an eye on him while Travis—”
I cut in, “Let him fuck up his own life, Declan. He bullied you, got others to bully you. Whatever shit he’s in, leave him in it. Let him be. He doesn’t deserve your help.” I felt very strongly when it came to Sawyer. The bastard deserved no help; I would die on this hill.
“I’m not doing it for Sawyer,” Declan stated, pausing before he added, “I’m doing it for Ash.”
That sent my mind reeling. “For Ash?”
Psycho: A Dark College Romance (Hillcrest University Book 4) Page 5