Page 6 of Tortured Souls

After Saint headed to bed, I chose to plop on the couch and flip on my latest horror movie obsession. I decide on the movieSawand pull out my phone. I wasn’t planning on watching it fully, just needed a little background noise to fall asleep tonight. I’m too lazy to head upstairs, so I kick off my boots and make myself comfortable on the large sectional.

I pull up my app with the security footage I have running of Skylar’s apartment. She’s already asleep for the night, or technically morning. She’s clutching her comforter underneath her neck and all I can hear is her soft breathing filling her room. I watch as her features relax, her usual hardness and scowl nowhere in sight. She looks so innocent when she sleeps, like she didn’t just brutally murder a man in the basement. She’s a little killer, and I love how much she reminds me of myself.

She’s a mystery.

I’ve slowly made it my personal mission to find out everything that makes up Skylar Sagan.Why are you here? Why do you kidnap, torture, and kill men in the basement of Capital Vice?I’ve looked into every victim she’s eliminated and the connections between them are clear. They all belonged to her father’s club. Well, they did belong to the club, not anymore, thanks to her.

She’s also very, and I mean very, creative when it comes to torture methods—I’ve started taking notes. My personal favorite was when she brought an anatomy book to the basement, wrote down every bone on separate pieces of paper, and placed them all in a glass fishbowl. She then randomly picked a piece of paper, revealing said bone, and would try to dissect her victim and remove it. It was insanely creative, and she had to inject the man with the tiniest bit of adrenaline a few different times so he wouldn’t pass out or die too soon.

Note to self: never get on Sky’s bad side.

I watch her as my eyelids slowly start to give out, and soon, I’m falling asleep myself. The sound of my phone beeping, indicating a new message, has me prying my eyelids back open. I let out a yawn. It feels like it’s only been ten freaking minutes since I fell asleep, but my watch says it’s ten in the morning. Fuck.

Sitting up, I see Saint drinking coffee at the island as he watches some YouTube video of an install of an engine for a Yamaha R1.

“Why don’t you just ask Sage how to do it? You know she’s better at installs than you,” I say, sitting up on the couch and lifting my arms over my head, stretching the kink in my back.Fucking couch.

He doesn’t respond. He just lifts his middle finger in the air as he continues staring down at his phone. I laugh to myself, lifting my phone and seeing Finn had texted me.

Finn:

I got some info on our guy. You won’t believe where he’s at.

Me:

Well, stop stalling and spit it out.

Finn:

Golden fucking Heights.

He’s in my city,my fucking city, and I didn’t know about it. What the fuck?

Me:

How the fuck is that possible?

Finn:

Because he’s been using a different alias, but he fucked up. He’s been going to Berkeley, or pretending to go, and applied under his real name.

Me:

What do you mean pretending?

Finn:

It looks like a front. He barely attends classes and looks to be using the excuse of being a student to blend in with the student crowd.

Me:

You have an address?

Finn:

You know I do.

Me: