Page 201 of Brainwashed

Want was quiet for a moment after that, while I stewed in my feelings.

“He’s too fucked up to talk,” I grumbled eventually. “And even if he does, his brain is like mush. I’ve read up on it… Memory loss is a common symptom of severe asphyxiation. Cut off the oxygen to the brain and it’s like wiping them out.”

Yea, but not permanently.

“You don’t know that!” I growled. “Don’t be a know-it-all, Want. Nobody likes that.”

His white, emotionless face glared at me.I’m just telling you… Things are going to change because you were too impatient.

I was seething. But I knew he was right.

The only thing was, it didn’t happen right away.

For two weeks after Henry Liu escaped, I waited for the cops to burst my door down. But it never happened.

There had been minor mention of him on the news, wherein they said he was in the hospital, in critical condition from the injuries sustained during the attack. Basically, they suspected I was responsible, but they needed Henry Liu to help them find me. And he was unresponsive.

And so even though I knew the best course of action would be for me to, at the very least, move, I didn’t. Because Want was right… I was overly cocky.

And I was right to feel that way, too. Because more and more time passed, weeks turned to months, and still,nothinghad happened. According to the papers, Henry Liu was awake and finally due to leave the hospital. But he had suffered major memory loss.

It was looking like I was in the clear.

Until October 30th.

It was the day before Halloween, and I was excited. I had just killed my thirty-fifth victim—James Van Gerry—and I was all geared up to leave his body parts in a cemetery as my own form of celebration. I’d been out all day, running errands in a bit of a fugue state, and when I got back to my neighborhood, I stopped at the bodega to grab something to drink.

That was when I saw it.

A composite sketch… of my face.

I froze. My entire body went stock still as I stood in line, gawking at the stack of newspapers, all of which had the same image on the front fucking page.

Me.

“Move it, pal. Let’s go,” some asshole behind me barked, reminding me of my surroundings.

Fidgety, I stepped up to pay. The man behind the counter was giving me a strange look, zipping a chill up my spine while I shakily pulled out a five-dollar bill and slid it to him. I watched as his eyes moved to the newspaper sitting right beside him.

The police sketch on the front page, which was so clearlyme,it wasn’t even funny. They got it all… My face, bone structure, the glasses… Even my hair looked exactly the way it did at that moment.

Angling my face to the ground, I darted out of the store without even grabbing my change. I could feel eyes on me everywhere, like hot, itchy splotches on my skin. People werestaringat me.

Normally, I would have walked home, but I desperately needed to avoid being glared at by passing strangers on the sidewalk. So I hopped on a bus.

As soon as I got on, though, I realized it was a mistake.

There were at least three people sitting right in front, reading the newspaper with my picture on the front page. An old woman glanced up at me where I was standing, gripping the yellow pole for dear life. Her eyes fell to the paper, and she flipped slowly back to the front page. Then peered back up at me.

Her eyes widened.

I needed to get off the bus.

At the next stop, I jumped off, all the passengers leering at me as I power-walked up the block, struggling to be as inconspicuous as possible while practically running. I kept my head down, even pulled my glasses off my face while I walked as swiftly as possible. I couldn’t see well without them, but I didn’t care. I needed to get the fuckout of there, but it was no use.

People were spotting me left and right. Murmurs began to assault me from all sides…

Is that him??