Page 83 of Brainwashed

They’re very subtle. You wouldn’t spot them unless you were standing as close to him as I am right now. But a small gasp flies from my lips as I gaze at the slightly uneven skin. When I peer back up at Dr. Love, he’s glaring at me.

He plucks my glasses from my face. “Dry off, Felix.”

I take the towel and use it to dry my hair and my body. Wrapping it around my waist, I look at him, wondering when he’s going to give me my glasses back. I don’t like being without them, especially now. I hate not being able to see him.

Of course he’s there, but he’s blurry. It makes me shift in place.

“I’m sorry for looking,” I tell him.

He stays quiet. But I feel him coming closer. And then he places my glasses back on my face. My stomach is flipping and flopping all over the place, and it’s very inconvenient. I’m soaffectedby him, and he’s just aloof. He doesn’t care. Honestly, I’m not sure he even knows how to feel.

“Let’s go to my office,” he says evenly. All traces of his earlier fervor gone. Picking up my boxers, he hands them to me. “I’m sure there will be a shitstorm to deal with.”

“Do you regret it?” I ask while getting dressed. “The experiment.”

He hands me a new pair of pants. “I don’t regret things.”

I make a face, stepping into them. “Bold statement.”

“It’s a fact.” He gives me a white t-shirt.

I slip it over my head. “So you just never regret anything?”

He shoots me a warning look. “Felix, we don’t have time for this unnecessary conversation. Put your socks on. I’ll have a new pair of shoes for you shortly, but we need to get back to my office.”

Jeez. What a grouch.

“Yes, sir,” I mutter. When I peek up at him, there’s a dark expression in his eyes. “You’re a bit of a freak, you know that, Doc?” He narrows his gaze. “A little too obsessed with serial killers… I think that makes you strange. Like me.”

He leans in closer to my face. “That’s a stretch…Carver.”

I smirk. Then wink at him.

He rolls his eyes. “Let’s go.”

Felix Harmon Darcey

Age: Nineteen

Location: Brooklyn Heights, NY

By the middle of my sophomore year at LIU, I decided college wasn’t for me.

It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy learning. I always have, and I found my classes interesting enough. But the problem was that after what happened with Emmanuel, I’d developed a very titillating new hobby. One that was much more important to me than any second-year biology class.

I still went to the library all the time. Still read up on the things that appealed to me, like anatomy and physiology. I’d also begun taking photos, and even turned my bedroom closet into a dark room.

But all of that was taking a backseat to this new part of me. The other half of Felix Darcey, who had only just been uncovered. I found myself distracted, constantly wondering where, when, or how I could locate my next victim.

There were ten of them at that point. I always found them outside the clubs in Manhattan. Usually, I would wait for them to walk off alone, and then I would approach them. Chat them up, making sure no one saw us leaving together. After Emmanuel, I decided if I was going to do this again, I needed to be more careful.

Of course, no one knew what happened to Emmanuel. Even if they’d seen him leave with me that night, I’m invisible. I’m sure they wouldn’t be able to pick me out of a lineup. Part of me resented it. But then I just kept reminding myself that it was my superpower.

And I used it to my advantage.

The guys I killed were all my boyfriends. At least,Iconsidered them to be. They would come back to my apartment for a drink and some, in their minds, casual sex, which we would always have. I considered myself to be getting pretty good at sex, though for me nothing quite compared to the feeling of taking their breath away, literally.

I got off, sure, but as the experiences climbed, I began to realize that I was wired differently. I got more sexual gratification from wrapping my hands—or my belt, or a tie—around their throats and squeezing until they were gone. From caving in their skulls with blunt objects, or stabbing them with my kitchen knives. I was better at killing than I was at enjoying sex, that was for sure.