Page 60 of Brainwashed

“Oh, shit…” I mumbled, peering over my shoulder at Want. “Look what you made me do?!”

My gaze came back to Emmanuel, tears seeping from my eyes. I’d made him so very sad, so scared and upset. That wasn’t my intention. I wanted to keep him happy.

If anything, I was trying to do him a favor. Life was chaos, and the world was a cold, ugly place. I was just trying to keep him full of joy and love. But he’d resisted it.

“Why did you resist it??” I asked him, standing up on shaky legs. “You should have just let me love you!”

Fog in my head, I meandered to the kitchen and took out my sharpest knife. I brought it back to the foyer where Emmanuel was lying dead and dropped to my knees.

“It’s okay,” I whispered, leaning over him. My fingers brushed the skin on his face. “I’ll make you happy again…”

My hand shook as I brought the knife to the corner of his mouth, pressing it into his flesh. Then I dragged it up.

“Smile for me, baby…”

I did the other side after that. Blood dripped from the wounds around his mouth, but I could see it. My lips curled.

He was smiling at me. He was happy andmine.

Just like he was meant to be.

I lay down next to him and wrapped my arms around his waist, pulling him close. He was still warm, and though the smell of copper in the air was thick, I felt content. I was pleased. The scent surrounded us, flopping my stomach like a tumble-dryer.

But I liked it.

I kissed Emmanuel on the neck, his blood smearing on my cheek. And I sighed out loud.

The void had been filled. I waswhole, for the first time in my life.

At long last…The Carverwas born.

Coming in here and seeing him is quickly becoming the highlight of my days.

Regardless of how uncomfy it makes me at times, now that he’s actually been speaking to me, asking me personal questions and scrutinizing me with that penetrating amber gaze, I’m getting some minute enjoyment out of these sessions. I know I’m notsupposedto be enjoying it… And I’m definitely not supposed to get such immense satisfaction in the routine of it.

But I do.

I’m sitting on the red velvet couch again. Same place, same time. Different day. Wiggling in place because of how heavy and warm his eyes feel resting on me.

“So,” Dr. Love begins, placing the recorder down on the table. “We left off yesterday talking about Emmanuel Pedroia. Your first kill.” I nod quickly. I don’t know what about him makes me feel like I’m sitting in front of the school principal, or like I’m at an important job interview, but I won’t over-analyze it.Not now, anyway.“Tell me about what you did with Emmanuel’s body. After he was dead.”

My eyelashes flutter.This could get weird.

I’ve never told anyone about my process before. I’ve never spoken the words out loud. The things I do with my bodies are my own personal keepsakes. The memories I hold with them are my little treasures, stored away, to be taken out and relived whenever I want. Whenever I need them.

It’s not something I share with others.But then Dr. Love seems so interested…

He’s very much a robot person—I’ve gathered that by now. But if he were to express any kind of excitement over something, it would be this; what he wants me to tell him. He gets this subtle glint in his eyes, and it’s hard to miss. At least for me.

Taking in a deep breath, I release it slowly while he watches me, pressing his fingers together. “I stayed with him for a few hours. Just talking… Kind of like… telling him it was okay.” I huff a small laugh. “I wascomfortinghim. It was crazy.” Dr. Love’s gaze narrows at me and I gulp. “What…?”

“Interesting choice of words…” he mumbles. His eyes are so serious. You’d have no idea that he’s being sort of humorous.

Is he… making fun of me?

I don’t know why, but it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. I bite my lip and fidget some more.

“But aside from that, Felix, do you feel as if Emmanuel was there to comfortyou?” he asks.