Now Open Your Eyes (Stay With Me series Book 3)

by Nicole Fiorina

  Contents

  Note From Nicole

  DEDICATION

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Note from Oliver Masters

  Epilogue

  Untitled

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2019 by Nicole Fiorina

  Publication Date: February 9th, 2020

  1st Edition

  All right reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Formatting by BohoBooks Publishing

  Proof Reading by Annie Bugeja

  Cover by Nicole Fiorina Books

  First off, this story is fiction,

  but if you think this isn’t real to me,

  then you must be mistaken.

  Look, I can take criticism,

  but you attacked my honest intentions.

  People live with this every damn day.

  Don’t tell me how we’re FEELING.

  “You lack sincerity … do your research

  this story is unrealistic …”

  I not only DID it, I LIVED it,

  now I WRITE it, so now I’m HEALING.

  YES, I know what it’s like,

  all I know are these words that I write

  You still picked up my third book,

  so I must be doing something right.

  And if you think this rhyme is for you,

  here’s my email, I’ll answer a question or two.

  nicole@nicolefiorina.com

  Stay with Me

  Even When I’m Gone

  Now Open Your Eyes is the last book in the Stay with Me series. This series must be read in order for it to be understood.

  You may not agree with the character’s viewpoints, actions, discussions, or the events in this story, and that is okay. Mature content, adult language and profanity, graphic sexual content, violence, and disturbing matters may trigger an emotional response. Read at your own risk.

  Happy Birthday Mackenzie.

  Now Open Your Eyes Playlist Available on Spotify

  https://spoti.fi/2GytbGj

  For my son who feels too much,

  Never be ashamed of showing

  your emotions or tears.

  One day, there will be someone

  who needs every single one.

  In the meantime …

  Yes, baby, you can handle it,

  and you are nothing less than

  b e a u t i f u l .

  I had three hours.

  Initially, I’d come here with one goal in mind. But I’d been putting it off. Mia had become a distraction. Or perhaps a savior, depending on how you look at it.

  Either way, I couldn’t waste another day.

  It was mid-evening, and everyone should be in their rooms. For fifteen minutes, I’d been standing before a mirror in an empty bathroom on the third floor with my conscience left somewhere on the second—wherever Mia was at the moment. Hopefully, in her room, but she had a habit of wandering, getting herself into trouble.

  Haden Charles felt no remorse. Absolutely none. Haden walked these halls as if he owned the rights to every swirl in the marble laid out before him. He went on with his life as if nothing ever happened. But something had happened. Haden Charles was one of the five men who’d taken the life of my sister, Livy. I’d watched and studied the bloke for the last seven months. He didn’t cower to himself after murdering my sister. Haden woke up, ate breakfast, went to class, played cards in the garden, living as if Livy never existed, as if he had not taken part in her death.

  While staring into my own eyes in the mirror, my heart hardened with every passing second. Anger filled the places where my baby sister used to, and the feeling was colder, heavier, and rougher around the edges. Anger consumed me, threatened me, taunted me. This anger fucking changed me, already long forgotten the man I used to be. All I knew was this rage, forgotten what it was like without it.

  Then I found Livy in my eyes. “Let it go,” her voice chanted inside my head. But I couldn’t let it go. The monster inside me was hungry, the whisperings of “tick-tock” growing louder, drowning out Livy’s sweet voice.

  Tick-tock.

  The bag resting beside my boot over the dirty bathroom floor contained everything I needed to get the job done. Over a year, I’d been planning. Haden had a mum, a dad in prison, a little sister, and a Golden Retriever named Poncho. Nothing I did was half-arsed, fully aware of the life I was about to take from this world—from a family.

  But he had a little fucking sister. He should have known better. And God? I’d given him over a year to make things right. Either God turned a blind eye … or God was waiting for me to do his bidding.

  Pushing off the sink, I straightened my back before swooping up the black duffel in my fist.

  Tick-tock.

  My clothes blended in the dark halls. Black shirt, black jeans, black boots. Black soul. Each step I took toward the second wing, my heart warned me, but Karma sang its sweet song over and over again, and there was only one way I could sedate the monster.

  It had to be tonight.

  Jerry had this wing, but once a week, he smashed Rhonda in her office at the Nurse’s station behind locked doors. The only reason I knew this was because he was a bit gobby in the break room, which Rhonda didn’t deserve. But I didn’t come here to make friends.

  With Jerry busy, and halls empty, I didn’t have much time.

  I had swiped a generic guard badge from the Dean’s office, one linked to no one’s name, and scanned the card to Haden’s door, sucked in a deep breath, and pushed open.

  Haden Charles didn’t expect death to knock, did he?

  “What the fuck?” Haden shouted, sitting up from his bed. His dark and confused eyes roamed over my black attire, trying to place me and piece together my intrusion at once. But before Haden had a chance to stand, I bombarded the bloke, digging my knee into his chest and wrapping my fingers around his throat.

  “Three questions, and you will be honest with me,” I commanded into his ear as he fought against me. He was no ma
tch for my size, the monster inside, and the adrenaline jetting through my veins. “I’ll know if you’re lying.” Haden’s eyes bulged as he tried twisting out of my grasp. Knowing how much air supply to leave, I tightened my grip. The junkie had been here at Dolor for three years for shooting up and dealing. Most students were in for two, but lucky for me, these fellas couldn’t pass a class. Haden was twenty now, hardly a boy any longer. Men had to take responsibility for their actions. “Olivia. Did you rape her?”

  Haden violently shook his head and tried to reach for my face, his turning blue, but I was far enough where he couldn’t reach me. I was no stranger to death, and this wasn’t my first rodeo. My arms were in a deadlock, but I let up a little for him to speak, and he gasped for air. “Who the fuck is Olivia?”

  “Livy,” I growled. “Answer me.”

  “Everyone fucked that slapper,” Haden spit with humor in his eyes, proving, once again, how he viewed women. “I’d hardly consider it rape when she laid there and took it. Like a champ, too.”

  The monster inside me bared his teeth, and I should have snapped his neck right then and there. It wouldn’t have taken much effort, considering I already had him by the throat. But I had more questions for him and needed more answers. Releasing one hand, I shoved it into my pocket and flicked open the pocket knife, hovering the sharp point over the bloke’s bulging eye. “Did you kill her?” Surprisingly, my voice stayed calm, my words explicit, but I couldn’t mask the slight tremor in my knife-holding hand. Haden’s movements stilled under my grasp, and fear materialized from his watering eyes beneath the tip of the blade. The plan wasn’t to use the knife on him. Only a means to get the answers I needed to justify what I was about to do. “The fucking truth.”

  “I’m not a rat,” he croaked in a husky breath.

  “Did you hang my baby sister?” The grief and heartache threatened to show, jeopardizing my patience. My hand trembled around the tight grip of the knife, ready to carve Livy’s name into his face so, dead or alive, he would never forget what he’d done—so everyone would know what he’d done.

  “Drew!” Haden rushed out with a shocking revelation in his eyes. “Drew was the one.”

  The monster inside me laughed at his audacity. Tommy, Livy’s boyfriend, had killed Drew, and Haden knew it would be easier to throw the one person under the bus who wasn’t here to defend his name. “Let’s try this again.” I already knew the names. When I’d visited Tommy in jail, he ran me off a list of the five boys who gang-raped her. Drew, Haden, Chad, William, and Lionel. But I needed Haden’s confession. I wanted to hear him say it. “Did you murder Livy?”

  Haden squeezed his eyes closed before he opened them and locked his dark gaze on me. “You want me to tell you how I watched Lionel and Drew suffocate her? How her freckled face turned blue, and arms went limp? How I helped lift her body so Lionel could pull the sheet around her neck? How she was already dead before she was flying? Do you think I’d honestly admit to something like that? You’d have to fucking kill me before my arse is going to that hell of a prison.”

  His sorry excuse for a confession clouded my vision and put me into a transient shock. Unwarranted images of my baby sister fighting for her life while being man-handled by five blokes twice her size appeared behind my closed eyes.

  After dragging in a steady breath, I opened them again. “Last question, Haden,” my voice wavered, and it took everything not to drive the blade into his eye, “are you sorry for what you did?”

  “Sorry?” He laughed. “It was her or me. I chose me.”

  Three questions. It was all I needed to hear before sending Haden’s arse to hell, but not the same hell he’d referred too. The monster controlled all my next actions as if I’d left my body and watched from the corner of the room—a bystander. I pulled out the needle and injected succinylcholine into the vein behind his ear. Then the only movements he could control were his eyes. This time, it was his body going limp in seconds. The terror in his dark eyes darted around, unable to move, unable to speak. Haden Charles finally understood the same fear Livy went through in her last moments: undeniably helpless with death on the horizon.

  I hung him in his room and didn’t stay around to watch his life slip away. He deserved to die alone, and if he managed to escape, the drug would suffocate him anyway. I’d seen the process before. I’d experimented with it because I didn’t do anything half-arsed.

  Automatically, my feet moved down the wing, one foot in front of the other, up the stairs, until I reached the bathroom. It wasn’t until the door closed behind me when I collapsed to the ground. My entire body shook, and my lethal hands trembled out in front of me. I examined them, horrified and disgusted with myself. A sickness stirred as Haden’s last moments replayed. I tried to climb the tiled wall, but my legs failed to move, and the queasiness pushed up my throat. Heaving and eyes burning, I lurched over and vomited over the bathroom tile.

  Murder wasn’t new to me. I’d slain before, and it never got easier.

  The monster was quiet, full. However, it wouldn’t be long until the bloody animal came back for more.

  It was only a matter of time.

  It took several minutes to break through the initial shock of my undoing. I scrubbed my hands until they turned raw, wanting to take off layers of my own skin. I showered, brushed my teeth, and dressed back into my guard uniform, repeatedly going over the plan in my head.

  I’d made plans for once I leave Dolor, where to stay, money, passport, what ordinary criminals on the run would plan to avoid getting caught. I’d already told the Dean that after this job, I was leaving the country and never coming back. I made sure no one would come looking for me, and no one could pin these deaths on me either—no trace of Ethan Scott. But I’d never planned for the way I’d feel after taking a life.

  Who was I to play God? Why do I feel remorse for those sick bastards? Why does it turn my stomach upside down instead of making me feel better?

  That, I didn’t plan.

  Back on the second floor, the dinner rush blew past me. Time moved forward, and no one noticed Haden Charles never made it to the mess hall. I turned the corner and found myself face to face with Zeke.

  Aside from Lynch, Zeke had been here the longest. Tommy’s brother.

  Zeke studied me from afar, his wild gaze roaming and trying to decipher me. “Zeke,” I whispered, feeling caught in an act but knowing he couldn’t have known what I’d done. But I was still afraid he’d be able to get inside my head and watch the memory of my crime play out. Each time his eyes locked on mine, I felt exposed. “Everything okay, my friend?”

  Zeke held a sad look and let out a breath before nodding. The boy was capable of speaking but chose not to. He’d been mute since he was found on the steps of Dolor. His file mentioned selective mutism and sensory processing disorder from severe separation anxiety as a kid. The only time he’d ever spoken was to Tommy. When I’d visited Tommy in jail, he had mentioned when they were kids, Zeke would use him like a barrier against the world around him. Tommy had always spoken on Zeke’s behalf, and when the two were separated, Zeke’s anxiety only worsened. Tommy had found Zeke after years of searching for him and planted himself inside Dolor to get his brother out. Tommy had failed Zeke.

  Tommy and I were alike in a lot of ways.

  Failing our siblings was one of them.

  Murder was another.

  I’d tried to get close with Zeke for Tommy’s sake, but Zeke only allowed a few in. Mia and Masters being the only two aside from Tommy, and I never understood what it was Zeke found in them. But he saw something. Perhaps Mia eased his anxiety the same way Mia calmed my monster.

  After dinner, I stayed at my post in the bathroom. Haden’s last words echoed in my head, and I gripped my belt in an attempt to calm my nerves. Instinctively, my eyes found Mia across the room, looking for relief. I noticed the way she zoned out as her friend, Jake, talked to her. Mia did that often, and I wished I could see her thoughts when she got lost in her
own head like this. Was she plotting out deaths like me? Was she sick too? Was she angry? What was her monster’s name?

  Lynch’s voice vibrated over the intercom, breaking my stare on the girl my monster fancied. It didn’t take long for someone to find Haden’s body and the campus to go on lockdown. I looked at my watch. Right on fucking time.

  When I’d thought the hardest part was over, it wasn’t. Having to see the damage I’d done with my bare hands back in Haden’s room, the sickness resurrected. When I’d thought there was no way I could ever hate myself more than I did after failing Livy, it had been a lie. Seeing Haden hanging in his room made me hate myself even more. Inevitably, the hate for myself would only grow because I wasn’t finished yet.

  I was only getting started.

  By three in the morning, I was free to go back to my wing—back to Mia. I wanted to lie by her side and use her to smooth over the anger, shame, and guilt like she’d done so many times before. Mia was sound asleep upon entering her room. Finally, asleep in peace from her terrors. I wanted to drown myself in that same peace. I wanted it to wrap this fucking monster up in her soothing blanket and rock him to sleep.

  One by one, I withdrew my belt and shirt and sank next to her ice-cold body to warm her. Mia was always cold, convinced she was born with half a soul.

  “Ollie,” Mia whispered, and though it hurt not to be the one she needed, I still selfishly needed her. It should make me feel guilty, my murderous hands straying over her silky chilled skin, but it didn’t. Mia stirred awake and tried to get me to talk about whatever was bothering me, but I couldn’t find it in me. I was a broken man with ill intentions. All I needed right now was the silence of the night and her—almost naked—body against mine. All I needed was the façade of being needed in return, and for her storm to calm mine. Mia transformed my monster into a pet. Around her, he listened.