Page 152 of Jagged Souls

Not in this.

He means too much to me.

So I clutch the knife and fork in my hand and dig into my breakfast, making sure I make a mess of things. I want Bear to think I’m clumsy without my eyes. Helpless, even.

“Here, let me help you,” he says.

Shit.I’ve played it too well. “I’m a big girl,” I say, doing my best to sound like his preferred age range.

“Of course you are,” he says, patting my head.

I drop a bit of syrup on my chest.

“Oops, you got some on you,” he says. “Let me get that.”

He trails his fingers across my skin, and I wonder how many times he’s perfected this. How many pretty words he gave tospecial girlsto get them comfortable. They wouldn’t have known better. They would have just thought he was helping. They would’vetrustedhim even as something in their back of their mind – a basic, instinctive fear bloomed. They would’ve trusted him.Everyonewould’ve trusted him because that’s how pedophiles work. Befriend the adults. Befriend the kids. Get everyone to think they’re the good guys.

Then get them away somewhere private.

Make them believe that this is agoodthing. A way to show I love you.

My skin prickling beneath his touch, I wait for him to stroke my left nipple, mapping his position in my mind. His arms are longer than mine, but his left one is twisted. He won’t be able to move it fast enough to block me.

He pinches my bud with his right hand, and I explode into action, grabbing his thumb and wrenching his arm to the side. Itcracks! He screams. His body will bend at the shoulder, an instinctive reaction to stop it from breaking. But he’s too close to the edge of the bed, so he will wobble, trying to keep his balance – too inexperienced in fighting to know he should take the fall and use it to throw me off my attack.

He wobbles, and I lunge forward, pushing off my toes, my legs springing me towards his neck. I switch the way I’m holding the fork and shove it sideways into his throat, then wrench it free as fast as I can, letting the blood spurt free. The sudden drop in blood pressure will make him lose consciousness quickly. He falls off the bed. I go with him, still holding his thumb, using it as a way toseehis body.

We hit the ground, and now I release his hand to cup the side of his face, mapping it. My thumb feathers his check, telling me where I need to aim, and I plunge the fork into his other eye, not wanting to risk stabbing my own hand.

His gurgle of pain cuts off. The fork doesn’t go as deep as I want it to though, so I reach behind me and search for the tray. I grab it, twist around, and hammer it onto the top of the fork, forcing it deeper into his brain, killing him quickly. Now they’ll need a necromancer to bring him back; a healer won’t do shit.

I scream as I sag forward. My shame doesn’t dissipate with his life though. His death doesn’t fix what I did. The only thing that’ll soothe that pain is the V.

No.

It’s the only thing that will make life bearable.

Don’t.

With numb arms, I search Bear’s pockets.

You promised to get clean.

Forty-Four

HIM

“Well, this is fucking depressing,” Aleric says as he stares at the picture he’s holding in his hands. “I thought you said you could draw? I was really rooting for you to survive this round.”

The kid in front of him starts to cry as Vlad shows me down the stairs of his boss’ house. “Aleric,” Vlad says.

He sighs as he crumbles up the drawing. “I’m kind of in the middle of cooking here, boo.”

“Dinner can wait.”

“It took me forty-five minutes to prepare this –”

“It. Can. Wait.”