Page 34

“What the hell does that even mean? Ready to hear what?” she asked.

“I can't right now. You need to open your eyes first.”

“Another response without a real answer. Thanks for that. It was really helpful.” Poppy tucked her chin into her chest and stared at the fire.

I pinched her chin and turned her head back to me. She didn't want to look at me, but I forced her to. “Poppy, you know the truth. If I told you, you'd hate me even more than you already do because you wouldn't be seeing it with your own eyes. You just have to listen to yourself.”

“All I hear is screaming when I listen. There's so much noise inside my head.” Her red, glassy eyes flicked between mine. “I can't quiet it down long enough to think anymore. Everything is just too much. I'm overwhelmed. I'm exhausted. I'm afraid. I don't want to be afraid.”

“I won't say I'm sorry for doing this to you. All I can do is show you I won't hurt you.”

“What about back at that factory? You forced those men to stuff that tube up my nose.”

“I wasn't going to let you starve yourself to death. I didn't do all of this just to let you kill yourself.”

“You have people that work for you. I thought serial killers worked alone?”

“Of course, I have people. Even the worst of us need help at times, but I'm not a serial killer.”

Poppy laughed as she pulled her face free from my hand. “How many people have you killed?”

“I don't keep count,” I said.

“What's the definition of a serial killer?” she asked coyly. “I think it's someone who kills multiple people for fun.”

“Stop. It's not the same.”

Poppy's lids thinned as her lips sealed tight. “Mm-hm. Whatever you say.”

“I'm serious. It's not the same thing. Serial killers do it just because they want to. I'm a paid professional. But I don't just kill anyone. There's a method to it. I have a system.”

“Right,” she said. Poppy didn't believe me; that was easy to see. “So, these people that work for you, do they know what you do?”

I nodded. “Of course they do.”

“And they're okay with it?” Her lips parted as she inhaled a breath.

My eyes were drawn to her mouth, to her supple and soft lips. The dewy glisten of her skin under the glow of the fire made me hard. Was it wrong to want her when she looked so vulnerable? Was it worse that I didn't care?

“Let's not talk about this right now. We're both tired and need some rest.” I wanted to avoid the conversation at all costs. I didn't want to explain my reasoning for what I did. And I especially didn't want to explain it to her.

“I don't want to sleep. I hate sleeping. And you took my medication, so now I have no peace either.” Poppy inhaled a deep breath as her eyes followed the dancing flames.

“Those pills weren't good for you.” I got up from the couch and walked to the cabinet on the wall to my right.

“Now you're my fucking doctor, too? Is that what you are?” Poppy's mouth hung open slightly as her eyebrows dipped into the bridge of her nose. “You have no fucking clue. Without my medication—”

“Without your medication,” I said, cutting her off. “You're mind will clear.” I took out two glasses and filled them with whiskey. “Here.” I held out a glass to her. “This will take the edge off.”

“You want to get me drunk? Is that going to clear my mind?” Poppy let out a condescending laugh. “You're a real fucking gentleman. Aren't you?”

“No, I just want you to relax a little. Drink it.”

“You probably poisoned it.” Poppy looked inside the glass, inspecting it for any residual powder or drugs.

I sat back next to her and took a sip of my own glass. “Fine, don't drink it. Stay up all night and feel like shit tomorrow.”

“You're such an asshole.”