Page 26 of Endless Anger (Monsters Within #1)

LUCY

I don’t tell anyone what I saw.

That would make this real, and a part of me is still trying to convince myself that what happened was some sort of nightmare.

Incidentally, I don’t sleep either. Instead, I vacillate all night between staring at the dorm room ceiling and pacing until the soles of my shoes feel worn.

I do, however, check to make sure none of my belongings have been disturbed. That feels like a normal thing to do when your roommate’s been murdered—just in case it was premeditated and you’re next.

The first thing I look for is the Vyvanse; I’m shit at remembering to take it, but I know some students around here would steal it if they knew I had it, and admitting to my parents that I don’t regularly keep it on me isn’t something I want to do.

Truly, the medicine is great when I think about it and a low enough dose that my irregular ingestion only really seems to affect my sleep schedule, which is awful anyway. But Mom would be on my ass if she knew.

I’m not abusing the stuff, but I suppose I’m not correctly using it either .

I just fucking wish I didn’t need it at all. Wish my brain could regulate on its own and my body didn’t feel like it needs to be in constant motion, or else.

Or else what , I don’t know. Nobody does. Death, it sometimes feels like. Spontaneous combustion, maybe.

Anger. Lots of anger. Racing jumbled thoughts turn to overstimulation and then systemic shutdowns.

When I was little, I had no idea why I felt so isolated and disconnected. I had energy and tried to be friendly, but there were needs I was pushing down to try and fit in that kept me from the others.

My interests came at higher, more concentrated speeds. What didn’t interest me made me uneasy.

I tried desperately to blend in with my peers, and when I realized I couldn’t, I left. Thought a change of scenery would alleviate the hyperactivity and attention deficit.

A lot of fucking good that did me.

At some point, a loud knock raps on my door, and I press myself as close to the corner of my bed as possible, huddled beneath my blankets and wishing I could disappear into the wall. Fear paralyzes me, keeping me in place as I replay the scene from the quarry over and over on a loop.

Celeste’s muffled noises—first pleasure and then pain.

Terror.

Pure and unfiltered.

The knife as it slicked right through her throat.

And I just sat there, watching, listening, witnessing the darkest and final moments of her life.

A metal trash can next to my bed becomes a vomit bucket. I empty acidic fluid into it until my skin is clammy and my hair sticks to my forehead. My throat burns with the effort.

The knocking ceases eventually, but the images don’t stop. Dark crimson stains my vision, blurring everything in sight. I try to read, attempting to catch up on Archaeological Theories and Methods coursework, but my focus is completely shot .

My attention span on a normal day is part of the real reason Dean Bauer called me to his office; it’s unprecedented for an Avernia student to be doing as badly as me so early in the semester, but here I am. Breaking records.

I doubt these are ones my parents would be proud to display on the fridge though. Lachlan and Logan likely have much loftier achievements.

The sun comes up at some point, spilling in through the sheer curtains bracketing the sole window in the room.

Celeste’s side is completely intact from when she was here last, her gold satin sheets made up, waiting for her return.

A bag of makeup sits on her desk next to her open laptop, and when I wake the screen, it still displays a research paper she’d been working on.

One of the outfits she’d been debating on wearing to the party hangs up on her closed wardrobe, abandoned as she ran out of time before a seminar.

My hands tremble the longer I stare at her half, nausea churning in my gut.

I stuff my feet into a pair of sneakers and sprint to the door. Panic swells in my chest like wind catching in a sail, and I scramble to unlock the knob, breathing erratically when I throw the damn thing open.

Aurora’s on the other side, her fist raised as if poised to knock. Her blond hair is a tangled mess, her blue eyes smudged with last night’s makeup, and she’s holding two to-go cups from Gaea Beans, the only vegan coffee shop in Fury Hill.

“Dude, what the hell happened to you? I watch you walk off to find something to drink, and the next thing I know, you’ve completely disappeared.

” She pushes into the room, irritation rolling off her in waves.

“Do you know how worried I was? I couldn’t even get into Erebus to find you, and then you weren’t answering your phone?—”

“I’m fine,” I cut in, swallowing thickly. “Clearly.”

“Fine?”

She sets the cups down, hauling me by my bicep, and stops in front of Celeste’s wall mirror. I bite the inside of my cheek as my palms grow sweaty, trying to convince myself it’s just the heat from the coffee .

I wait for her to mention the mess and disorganization on my side, but she doesn’t even seem to notice.

“Does this scream fine to you?” Her fingers squeeze my arm, so tight I can already feel it bruising. I don’t even flinch. “Good God, Lucy, you’re covered in dirt and… blood ? What did you do last night?”

I’m not looking at my reflection.

I… can’t .

My eyes won’t focus. They’re too afraid to see what she sees, to face the nightmare looking back.

Why isn’t she asking about Celeste?

Did I make up everything that happened?

I feel like I’m losing my fucking mind. Was Asher even here last night, or did I just dream that too?

Wouldn’t be the first time I’d dreamed about him.

“Have you seen or heard from Celeste?”

Aurora drops my arm, and I track her movements in the mirror as she places her hands on her hips. “Uh, no, but someone said they saw her go into Rad Hall around midnight, so I figured since she didn’t come back, she was just hooking up. Isn’t that normally how she spends her weekends?”

Whirling around, I snatch Aurora’s wrist, yanking her toward me. Confusion bounces in my chest, making me dizzy. “Who saw her? What was she wearing, do you know? Who was she with?”

Her eyebrows knit together, and she gives me a horrified look, tugging on her wrist. “Let go, dude. You’re freaking me out?—”

A figure stops in the open doorway of my room, hands in the pockets of their cigar pants. Slightly tanned arms are revealed as the person comes forward over the threshold, then short black hair and a familiar grin bearing white teeth.

His eyes show last, dark blue and smug.

I wonder if that was the final thing Celeste saw before she plummeted to her death.

Beckett, the current acting president of the Curators and Fury Hill founding family member, smiles at me .

My skin crawls.

“Room check.” He cocks his head to the side, eyeing me with a predatory glint in his gaze. Or maybe I’m imagining it? “Just making sure you girls got back safe after last night’s little shindig. You know us Curators like to keep track of those things.”

Aurora glances between us, then slides her foot in my direction. “Uh, yeah, we’re good. Thanks for coming twelve hours later, I guess?”

“Oh, it was the least I could do, Rory ,” he says to her.

“You never know what’s lurking around at night, especially out in the Primordial Forest. Lots of people go missing there, ya know.

You’ve probably heard the rumors about human sacrifices, secret fertility ceremonies, and death god sightings, right?

” Looking back at me, his grin widens. “I don’t know about that last bit, but you look like the kind of girl to warrant meetings with unsightly deities, Lucy. ”

Bile churns in the base of my throat, burning me from the inside out. “And you look like a guy who’d be at the top of someone’s hit list. Maybe you should shut the fuck up and worry about yourself.”

Smirking, he glances past me, and something sinister slithers along my sternum as the memories from last night continue repeating in a ceaseless, spherical motion.

“Where’s your roomie, Wolfe ?”

My stomach somersaults, and I feel my arm tense beneath Aurora’s hold.

His eyes are taunting when they return to my person. I’m not imagining that.

I shift on my feet, swallowing, my gaze darting around his face to look like I’m not avoiding the question.

“I’m not her keeper,” I manage finally.

“So you don’t know then?”

“Do you ?”

Tension stretches in the space between us. He knows. I heard him out there.

But he doesn’t know I know he knows. I need to keep it that way .

Aurora clears her throat. “Lucy and I were just on our way to get breakfast. We’d better get going, or we’ll miss the two-dollar mimosas.”

“Ah.” Beckett grunts, nodding. “Of course, of course. I’d hate to stand in the way of Lucy Wolfe and the shit she likes to devour.

Who knows what she might burn down this time if she doesn’t get her way?

” He moves back from the room, rapping his knuckles on the wooden doorframe once more before shooting us a toothy smile.

“Glad you’re okay, ladies. See you next weekend. ”

“What was that about?” Aurora asks once he’s gone.

Shaking my head, I shrug. “Just a Curator being a Curator. You know they can’t help but insert themselves into things.”

She makes a clicking sound with her tongue. “I’ll never understand what you saw in him.”

As I change and wash off in the little sink in my room, I consider her comment. The truth is I didn’t see anything in him; he was just one of the few people to give me the time of day when we were freshmen.

The attention was nice, and I missed Asher. Back then, I didn’t know Beckett was the human equivalent of a dirty toilet.

Without answering my cousin, I drag her from the room, leaving Erebus Hall in a hurry just in case he plans on returning.

Or in case the new RA makes himself known today.