Page 126 of Let the Game Begin (Kiss Me Like You Love Me #1)

Prologue

Neil

I sat on the living room sofa and stared at a painting of Jesus.

My mom had told me I needed to thank the Lord every day, say a prayer to him every night and go to church with her every week.

She said there was something wrong with me, that the child-eating witch I talked about so often was a monster who only existed in my head and that only the church could offer me salvation.

She didn’t understand what I was saying.

“I swear she exists,” I’d told her over and over again, especially whenever I got home from school to find that the teacher had already called her about my bad behavior.

Like the teacher had that day.

“Stop telling stories!” My mother scolded me.

“What you did was unacceptable!” She shouted at me because my teacher had told her I’d groped a classmate but that wasn’t really what happened.

All I did was put my hand on her thigh while she was crying about getting a bad grade.

The teacher found us and assumed I was touching her in a way that wasn’t appropriate for a child.

So I tried to explain to Mom that she did those bad things to me—the child-eater—but that I would never do them to anyone else. But it felt like she didn’t hear me.

“You have to believe me, Mom,” I said, soft and defeated.

“This is the second time they’ve called to tell me about your unmanageable behavior. What the hell is driving you to do these things? Are you trying to get my attention? Huh?” She rubbed her belly with one hand. We were only a few months away from Chloe’s birth and my mother was far from calm.

I didn’t want to make her mad the way I did last time. When that happened, she got sick and Dad punished me.

“Mommy, I—” I didn’t get to finish because she stalked over to me and slapped me across the face. It hurt so bad my lip started to tremble. I looked up at her, my eyes full of tears, my cheek aching but my mother just coldly pointed up the stairs with her index finger.

“Go to your room!” She ordered and I hung my head and obeyed her. I ran to my bedroom upstairs and shut the door behind me. I didn’t want to see anyone. I knelt down at the foot of the bed and put my hands together in prayer just the way Mom always told me to and then I bent my head as I spoke:

Please God, make this torture stop.

Why did Kim pick me?

Did I do something bad?

Please tell me, because I can’t figure it out.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry for asking for too much for Christmas last year.

I’m sorry for talking back to my Mom sometimes, even on accident.

I’m sorry for hiding Logan’s after school snack just to spite him.

I’m sorry for being jealous of my little sister Chloe who isn’t here yet but I’m just afraid my mom will forget about me.

I’m sorry for making Dad angry by getting a juice stain on his new shirt.

I’m sorry for everything but please…just help me.

Children were afraid of monsters that hid under the bed, behind the curtains or inside the closet but that wasn’t how monsters really were.

They walked carelessly through our world, their appearances misleading, their smiles enigmatic. They stretched out a hand to you and offered you something sweet before kindly asking you to follow them.

There, in the shadows, in some murky, hidden place, they peeled back your skin and your screams died a slow death.

One day, one of those monsters descended on me and without ever even asking, battered down the door to my soul, invaded my heart and contaminated every inch of my body with poison.

I fought for a long time to protect myself but the monster had confused—and fused with—me so rapidly, making a mess of everything.

That was when the enemy had been born inside me. Two souls began to co-exist—different, opposed, removed. Thus I learned to control and accept them, becoming, with time…

My own worst enemy.