Page 85 of Chalk Outline

“Do you feel better?”

“Yeah.”

“Dream world or a nightmare?” he asks as part of our ongoing game.

“I don’t know which one is worse, but at least in the dream world, I get to see him.”

“Maybe you get to see him in both. Do I get to see your new sketch?” He lowers his voice like he does whenever he asks for something personal.

“When I finish it, you will,” I smirk. “On another note, I think I’m ready to say goodbye. I have to. I can’t change what happened, but I need to move on.”

Jason freezes in place. The beer bottle in his hand falls to the floor and shatters spectacularly. I don’t move, thinking he saw something that would scare me shitless. I refuse to turn around, too. I may have killed a guy, but snakes still scare me to death.

My eyes shift from left to right, begging him to say something.

“Is it big?” I whisper to the radio.

Blinking back to reality, he asks, “What?”

“That thing that you see behind me.”

He clears his throat. “There’s nothing behind you.”

I exhale a loud breath. “You scared me.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to.” His disoriented expression puzzles me as well.

“It’s okay. You promised to help me find a way underground once I’m ready…” I’ve searched everywhere I could, and right now, I am struggling to remove the large fridge in the basement. It feels like it’s bolted to the wall, so it’s a work in progress.

“Right...” Jason makes a U-turn and walks inside without saying another word. He disappears for a moment before returning with a dustpan and broom to sweep up the mess.

“Are you okay? Did I say something wrong?” I ask, watching him work quickly and dispose of the glass in a plastic bag. We use the underground bin in the basement for our garbage. I wonder if it leads to the underground prison, but there’s no way I’m going down there. If I can find it, I’d rather take the ocean entrance once it turns liquid.

“You didn’t. I’m fine.” His voice is rough. “I need to take a shower. It’s your watch.”

My eyes narrow as I watch him step inside and look around; in a split second, he throws the bag in his hand across the room.

What is that about? It’s like my words sent him into a frenetic trance. The hand in his hair pulls as he kicks the nightstand and storms into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

I’ve never seen him behave that way. Even when he killed a man, he stayed calm and composed. Usually, his body language doesn’t reveal much about his inner emotions.

I throw myself onto the couch and grab the book from the table. I don’t know who put all these books here, but they clearly know my taste, which is both weird and funny.

I’m almost finished, and this basic routine makes me want to pluck my eyeballs out. There’s nothing to do here except work out, shoot outside, and read. Talking with Jason helps pass the time, but I fear I will go insane by the end of the year unless I find a way out.

I open the book where I left off and set aside one of the crazy notes I used as a bookmark. I quickly flip through the pages, and before I realize it, I turn the last one, and something drops into my lap.

What’s that?

My brows knit together as I lift a torn piece of paper that seems to have been ripped from the last page. Scribbled words are scrawled across it in black ink.

Sweet Death, I’m coming to collect my reward.

My eyes follow the movement of the ink, recognizing the way it flows on the paper, like the note that came with the lungs. It has nothing to do with the other cryptic messages, yet it suggests that more than one person leaves them for me.

Maybe it was here before I even entered the tower, unlike the others I found outside and in my attacker’s pocket.

I place the book on the table with the note and pull my vibrator out of the bag I left on top of it.