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KALEB

ELEVEN YEARS LATER—PRESENT DAY

“ E njoy your field trip, Kaleb.” Dr. Reynolds’s grin stretches across his wrinkled face. The therapist who’s been assigned to me since my first day at Berkshire Psychiatric Hospital.

Clouds gather above our heads, casting a gray light on this gray day. The autumn chill seeps under our clothes. A constant breeze whistles in the forest surrounding the hospital I’ve been locked up in for the past eleven years. Orange leaves either withstand the wind or fall to the ground.

In other words, just your typical October day in one of Washington’s forests.

Or so I lead the group of idiots to believe.

After all, there’s nothing different about me, either, is there? I look the same. In my blue coveralls. Sticking to the same silence I’ve maintained—mostly—throughout my entire stay here. Throughout my life, actually.

In the face of my silence, my delusional doctor pushes his square-rimmed glasses up his nose. A tentative, shaky smile takes over his confident grin.

My presence unnerves him. I also pique his interest. An enigma he’s dying to solve.

That’s good. Otherwise, I would’ve been transferred to an adult facility long ago. I’m twenty-six, not a minor anymore.

Doc Reynolds said so. A few months before my eighteenth birthday, he told me he was trying to keep me here. That they wanted to move me to an institution in another state .

Since then, I’ve been feeding him breadcrumbs that meant nothing. Anything to get me to stay here.

It worked. The fucking breadcrums have kept me here instead of being shipped off to Florida.

Halfway across the country.

Far from her .

Shiloh.

I suppress a snarl.

No one will derail my plans to be reunited with her.

Even though we haven’t been in contact for years. Ever since the trial.

Still. Fucking still.

I’ve never forgotten about her. Had to stay nearby.

It broke me when my source—a former prisoner in this hellhole—informed me her dad sent her away to LA. The distance hurt worse than a dozen punches to my ribs. And I should know.

But that’s all behind us. She’s back in Seattle.

The perfect timing for me to break out of here .

To find her.

So many things. So many vile, deplorable things I want and will do to her.

My little stepsister who isn’t so little anymore.

I’ve had her watched over the years. Her photos are what fueled the change in me.

Those large blue eyes. Her lush brown hair that reaches her shoulders. My favorite photo out of the three was taken at her home, in Seattle, on Christmas day two years ago.

She’s grown into a beautiful woman while I’ve been stuck here.

While I’ve become even more possessive of her.

My obsession with her has morphed into something far more sinister than it was years ago.

Strange, I agree. I never feel .

Then again, I never met anyone like Shiloh. She does things to my cold heart.

Other than love and protectiveness, there’s anger. She didn’t stick up for me in court. Or when the ADA came to our house for the under-the-table plea deal.

It wouldn’t have changed anything, but fuck. I wanted to hear her say my brother isn’t guilty. He’s done the right thing.

There’s also lust and a violent need to own her body.

She’ll be the first person I’ve ever been with sexually.

And I will be with her. In any way that counts.

Bullshitting Dr. Reynolds did the trick, landed me this escape opportunity .

I haven’t been out in years. Eleven, Doc Reynolds. Send me out there for an hour. A secured ride around the forest. I’ll have plenty to share after that. I’ll tell you all about why I am the way I am.

The next morning, I had my day trip scheduled.

One I’m never coming back from.

“Well, then.” He clasps his hands before him. A bead of sweat slips between them, landing on the ground. He’s really excited, the fool; thinks this is his big break. “Should this experiment be successful, this trip won’t be the last.”

A snort to my right. Dick—name suits him fucking right, the bastard. My most hated guard. The man who’s escorting me on this ride.

The asshole loves ridiculing my mask. Mocks me whenever he digs up the three photos I have hidden in my room. He doesn’t think Shiloh’s ugly or anything like that. No one ever could.

It pisses him off that I smuggled them in through back channels. That Dr. Reynolds lets me have them, even though the rules don’t permit it.

Jerome’s name will never leave my lips. We’re the same age. Grew up here together. Only difference is, he was released at eighteen. I’m sure he hasn’t stopped committing crimes on the outside. He just doesn’t get caught.

I sure as fuck won’t be the reason he gets sent back here. Other than as a visitor, that is.

A visitor who slips me gifts. Gifts that come with a price that I’ll have to pay once I’m on the outside.

“You’ll fail, freak. ”

I turn to Dick, the sneaky fuck who stole two precious items from my room this morning.

His narrowed, beady brown eyes stare back at me.

He reeks of fear. He hates it when I glare at him in silence. I do that whenever I can.

When he goes through my stuff. When he checks for shivs or pills. He sneers and curses, trying to mask the terror he can’t shake.

That part, this weakness when it comes to me, is what he hates the most. The bald asshole has been holding a grudge against me since the moment we met.

It doesn’t help that I keep stealing his baton—and beating him with it—without consequence.

They almost never sedate me here, no matter what. Unless it’s that time of year. That one night when I’m at my worst, that’s when they stick that needle into my arm.

Other than that…

Kaleb is on the path to healing, Dick. He’s been isolated from the rest of the patients in his room for the past five years. We’d be doing him a great disservice by punishing him. Electric shocks would only serve to spiral him. Take a day off to heal. Tomorrow, you’ll be as good as new.

The loser heard that from Dr. Reynolds every time the latter broke up our fights. Despite the bruises on his face, ribs, and back. Regardless of how swollen his head was. The blood that often painted his lips red.

My doctor wouldn’t let him hurt me.

He won’t ever let him. He needs me .

Maybe he fantasizes about writing a book about me. Or he’s curious about a twenty-six-year-old murderer who wears a mask for hours at a time.

Who cares?

Today, all of this ends.

The years I’ve spent locked up. Probed. Looked at. Questioned. The cuffs on my hands now are nothing new.

Done.

My fucking God, I can’t wait to have this jumper off me. To kick off the white slip-ons.

This prisoner’s uniform, I’m so over it.

Good thing my driver seems to be about my size. He’s perched on the white minibus in a tan sweater, a pair of plain jeans, and leather boots. Waiting for us.

Apparently, he isn’t obligated to wear a uniform like Dick is. I didn’t plan on changing out of my clothes so soon. Couldn’t count on it.

But after twenty-six years of being shit out of luck, I lucked out. Who knew God had a conscience?

Dr. Reynolds should’ve assigned me another one to join us on this ride, at the very least. If he were a wise man. If he were any less obsessed with me, with needing to learn everything he can about me.

“Dick, this type of behavior is inappropriate and uncalled for.” My sixty-five-year-old psychiatrist stands there with Berkshire as his backdrop.

Inappropriate. Ha. What’s inappropriate is that Dick has my photo and mask hidden in his backpack .

What’s uncalled for was Dick waking me up before the crack of dawn. He did so to let me know he held my stuff hostage as a guarantee that I wouldn’t try anything funny.

Me? Try ?

Only the weak try .

I will kill him. And there will be nothing funny about his death.

Anyway, I nodded, silently promising to be good. Dick laughed. He thought he had won. Still believes he has the upper hand since I haven’t snitched on him. As if I need Doc Reynolds for anything other than this stupid trip.

I’ll have Shiloh’s picture and my mask soon.

An identical mask to the one I wore back home. I’ll wear it throughout the arduous, hours-long walk home. Or while I drive the car that I’ll steal. Depending on how lucky I get.

One thing’s for sure.

I’ll get it back from Dick, and I’ll be wearing it when I break into her apartment. When I terrorize her.

When I take over her world.

Ruthlessly. Viciously. Completely.

No more hiding from me. Not-fucking-ever.

“But—”

“I’d appreciate it if you refrained from provoking Mr. Blackwood.”

Hate being called Mr. Blackwood. My dead father’s name. I make no signs of showing my contempt, though.

“Yeah, yeah.” An orange leaf detaches from its branch to my right, falling on top of Dick’s bald head. He brushes it off. “Only the best for Mr. Blackwood. ”

Jesus, enough with that name.

“Good.” My doctor pats down his green plaid shirt.

Another nervous gesture.

He’s been studying me, true. I’ve learned all I could about him, too.

“Kaleb, what about you?” More shirt smoothing. More anxiety pouring out of him.

It’s a direct reaction to the narrowing of my eyes and the slow drag of my hand along my short hair. The slower I move, his agitation intensifies, I’ve realized. A small payback for being treated like a bug under a microscope.

“It’s going to be great, isn’t it?” he prompts, the fool. “Just what you wanted.”

Since he won’t let me go unless I respond to his taunting, I nod. He returns it, fixing his glasses on his nose.

“Wonderful. See you in an hour, then.”

See you never.

I turn around and start walking toward the van.

Dick wisely stays behind me as I drag my feet on the gravel. The metal chain connecting my ankle cuffs clinks with every step I make.

What a goddamn joke, believing they can restrain me. My growth spurt at eighteen shocked the hospital’s GP. I’d filled out everywhere while getting taller at an inhuman speed.

At six-foot-five, I’m lean. Broad. What scares them the most is that I never had to put too much effort into it. It’s my body’s way of turning me into a bigger monster.

So much so that I’m sure I could still snap a person’s neck. I haven’t. Yet. The fuckers here have sedatives .

When they shoot them up my arm, I’m rendered useless. Nothing but flesh and bones.

They don’t have a million guards and attendants in the van, though.

It’ll be me against Dick and the driver.

Neither of them will have a chance to get to the syringe.

They’ll come face-to-face with the killer I was born to be.

I proved it before.

A few miles down the road, and I’ll prove it again.

And again.

And again.

And—

The driver presses the button to open the back door. He presses another button, and a ramp is lowered to the ground.

“Get in, freak,” Dick hisses. He’s close enough that I smell beef jerky on his breath, and the acrid smoke of his cigarettes.

He gets the same nod Doc Reynolds did. I climb the ramp to the van, shoulders slumped, head bowed. I’m hunched over so I can walk in without banging my forehead.

It’s also meant to trick him into believing he’s won. That I’ll stay seated on this bench I just sat down on. Won’t bother him throughout this trip.

A ruse he’s falling for.

His smug grin tells me as much.

People. They really ought to stop letting their feelings rule their actions.

“You and me…” He crouches at my feet, securing another cuff to my leg and then to the bench. He’s shaking it to make sure it won’t budge. That I won’t break free .

Laughable.

“We have some unfinished business to settle on the road.” As he yanks on the chain, his muscles bulge beneath his dark gray guard uniform. “A score to settle.”

I could end this right now. Kill him in a heartbeat without even using my hands.

So could he. A few blows to my head with his baton and I’d be done.

But this isn’t the right time. We have an audience.

Soon, though…

The ramp goes up. The door slides shut.

Dick is up on his feet, waving to Dr. Reynolds through the window.

While he’s busy playing my dutiful babysitter, I sneak a glance at the driver, assessing the threat up close. He’s in his forties. His blond hair is long, pulled into a low ponytail. Has to weigh over two-fifty, easy.

He doesn’t stand a chance against me.

Won’t be able to when I have a hard-on to fuck and torture and own my stepsister.

Nothing and no one will keep me from her.

Shiloh.

The van’s engine rumbles as we cross the gravel. It settles by the time we reach the paved road.

Maple trees line each side of the path. Orange and red leaves decorate their branches. They stand out against the gray skies, a simmering fire. Reminds me of the one that’s constantly burning inside my heart.

The scorching whisper that won’t let me be .

Shiloh. Shiloh. Shiloh.

“Just you and me, psycho.” Look at that chickenshit, staying way over there by the driver’s seat where he drops his bag. He’ll be safe there. Temporarily. “Mr. Driver, here?—”

“Oswald,” the man behind the wheel huffs. As if that matters.

“Oswald.” Dick licks his upper lip, removing the baton from his belt and slamming it against his open palm. Tap. Tap. Tap.

An old, boring scare tactic. I used far superior ones when I terrorized Shiloh’s attackers.

They cried when I backed them into the school bathroom’s wall. I’d promised them we’d all attack Shiloh together, that this time, no one would stop us.

Then I locked the door behind me. And I put on my mask.

Then I was the one using my hands on them.

“He’s being paid to keep his mouth shut.” Dick laughs at me. “You can forget about him selling me out. I’m here to do whatever I want with you, at fucking last.”

He edges toward me. His voice lowers.

Am I supposed to tremble in fear? At this? Is this guy for fucking real?

I’d roll my eyes if I weren’t trying to bait him into coming closer.

I flinch as Dick towers over me. Roll my shoulders forward, curling into a ball.

“You’ve been a pain in my ass since day one.” There’s something else in his breath. On his clothes. Stale alcohol. I recognize it, thanks to my old man. “Fighting back. Being Doc’s favorite lunatic.”

Spittle flies all over my face.

I’ve survived worse.

“He isn’t here to protect you anymore.” His rage grows the farther we get from the hospital. Face turning purple. Eyes bulging.

There you go, loser. Let your anger take over.

“What do you have to say for yourself before I beat you black and blue?” He kicks my shin. “Huh? Huh? Huh?”

All I do is stare at him.

“Fucking freak.” His roar is a frustrated one.

He wishes I’d beg, cry, or apologize.

Yeah, no.

“Talk already! Why won’t you fucking talk?”

When we lived together, I did talk. I talked to Shiloh. The most I’ve spoken to anyone.

I haven’t in years. She hasn’t visited me. No one’s been allowed to—doctor’s order. She’s never written, either. Since I was only permitted to write to someone if that someone sent me a letter first…

She’ll be punished for it.

A bump in the road snaps me out of it.

Both Dick and I sway left. Right. Left.

We’re both settled again.

“Sblablendblada.”

The complete nonsense I spew has him scrunching his eyebrows. “What? ”

“Sblablendblada.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” The baton slams into my abdomen. “Louder.”

I cough. “Sblablendblada.”

“Motherfucker,” he says to himself. “Don’t really need to hear him. Don’t really care.”

Oh, he does care. Throughout the eleven years I’ve been locked up, I’ve barely spoken to anyone. Looks like Dick is just like the rest of them. Dying to know what goes on in my head.

Hasn’t he heard that curiosity killed the cat?

“Everything okay back there?” Oswald’s voice comes from miles away.

Nothing exists but me and my target.

“Mind your business, old man.” Dick’s lips form a fine white line as his hand tightens around the baton. Staring out the window, he considers his options.

He ends up choosing the worst one of them all.

He squats, one hand on his thigh. His lips are near my ear. Our cheeks almost touch. “Speak up, you fucking freak.”

His ear is close to my mouth.

He never sees me coming, but I’m coming anyway. My teeth latch onto his earlobe. Sharp. Cutting. Relentless.

At first, he gasps. He can’t believe that I’m doing this to him.

But I am. I double down on the bite, tasting Dick’s blood on my tongue.

You shouldn’t act so surprised, Dick. Nothing stopped me from biting off two kids’ fingers, either.

“N-no. No.” His brain and vocal cords finally join forces. The urgency is audible. “No, Kaleb. Stop it right now. No! ”

“Yes,” I hiss through gritted teeth. Through the blood coating my tongue. “Yes.”

“Dick! What the—What the fuck.” Oswald splits his attention between us and the road, his arm on the back of his seat. “I’m pulling over.”

“No.” The desperation in Dick’s voice is delicious. “Don’t you dare. Keep driving. The closest police station. Get there. For backup. Otherwise, this psycho will break free.”

“I’ll call them, I’ll call—” Oswald’s attempt at being a helpful prick dies a miserable death. His cell slips out of his hand. Crashes on the floor. Slides past us to the end of the minibus. “Fuck! Fuck!”

“The radio,” Dick growls.

“Isn’t working.” The van swerves as Oswald’s panic rises. His head snaps back and forth. Voice shrill. “Been dead for a week! My cheap-ass boss! Damn it!”

“You.” When Dick makes a move to stand, a fresh wave of blood trickles down my shaved chin. “Let go. Let go, or I’ll beat you up. Split your head open.”

“Go ahead.” Talking is a struggle when my teeth are clamped on his ear. “But you’ll be doing it without an ear.”

“Oh God.” Oswald’s calls will forever go unanswered. I mean, He put him in this van with me , didn’t He? “Help us.”

My eyes slide to the writhing, panting Dick’s face. His complexion is pale, chin quivering.

I take advantage of his shock. His confusion.

I part my lips for a split second and lock them on the place where his ear connects to his body.

The taste is awful.

Shiloh, though, she has to taste sweet. As sweet as she looks. Plump lips. Her breasts are bigger and mouthwatering as fuck.

Mine.

My cock thickens as I imagine it’s her tits I’m biting down on. The barbell on the tip grazes my boxer briefs. The same friend who’d gotten me Shiloh’s pictures landed me the piercing.

The hole in my dick, that one was all me. All for Shiloh.

“Release me, or I’m biting your ear off.” My speech is garbled as fuck. I spit blood as I talk. “Might even chew and swallow it if you take too long.”

His pitiful gaze skates to the outside world.

“Calculating the distance to the station?” I grind my teeth left and right, sawing into his skin as I speak.

“Ye—No, no.” On top of his blood, his sweat tastes foul in my mouth. Nasty. “Fuck you.”

He curses and curses. Oswald groans, apologizing profusely. “I’m going as fast as I can!”

Both are lost to the moment. To the violence of it. The pain. The smell of blood swirling in the air.

Neither of them notices me sliding my fingers to the keychain on Dick’s holster.

Fortunately for me, he chained me up long before today. I know which key goes where.

“Kaleb, let go, or I swear to God…”

I close two fingers on the one that’ll free me. Into the lock it goes.

Click .

The handcuffs land in my lap.

“Hard way, it is.” My hands are a collar around his throat. A constricting, lethal collar. I feel his muscles strain, his fight to get air in.

“Stop”— shaky breath —“the van.”

Too little, way too late.

The driver can’t hear him.

Even if he could, nothing could stop me. I shove Dick away from me at the same time that I rear my head back, taking his ear with me.

“M-my e-ear,” he wheezes as I spit it out. It lands with a thunk on the floor. “My ear.”

Without a word, and with every ounce of violence I have in me, I squeeze the life out of him.

“Keep going,” I mimic Dick’s voice as best I can, fooling Oswald into believing he’s okay.

“Almost there.” Oswald begins to turn his head toward us. I think fast, slinging one of Dick’s arms over my neck. Adjust my grip. Hide my face. “Twenty minutes. Hang on.”

His eyes are back on the road.

“Trying.”

“Good.”

Something inside Dick’s throat snaps. A bone. He goes limp in my hold. I still bash his face into the back of the bench I’m sitting on. That part is purely recreational. Pure fun.

Smash. Smash. Smash.

Blood spray taints my jumper. His brain remains on the bench.

Can’t say it was nice knowing you .

“Dick?” he asks, not looking back this time. Focusing on the curve in the road.

It gives me less than a minute to unlock my ankle cuffs.

I only need five seconds.

Free at last.

My heavy footsteps rattle the van.

They grab Oswald’s attention.

“Dick, you got him?” He’s hopeful, already imagining me thrown into another cell. Locked away from Shiloh. Never. “You did, didn’t?—”

Oswald’s head is in my grip. I slam it into the driver door.

Over.

And over.

And over.

Gray brain matter mixes with his blood. Like Dick’s back there, only better.

Because Oswald’s terror is very much alive. He lives through the whole ordeal, and I get to hear his shrieks. See his arms flailing. Watch his body arch against his seatbelt when the van steers off course.

Left, left, left.

And…there it is. We’re off the road, the van skating toward the trees, about to hit one.

Despite Oswald’s fingers grasping my wrists and how the van shakes, I’m not letting go. I’m devoted, an unstoppable force as I destroy what’s left of his head. I take great pleasure in watching him paint the glass red and gray .

Eventually, the inevitable collision happens. We crash into a tree, and I fly over to the other side, leaving dead Oswald in his seat.

I land on the opposite side of the door, listening to the engine cough.

A normal person would’ve been in pain by now. Would’ve been hurt. Severely.

I’ve never been normal.

Even when my bastard father was alive and beat me up. I got bruised. Bled. But no broken bones. No cracked ribs. Nothing actually hurt. I just hated being overpowered, but I could take a beating.

Easy.

Only time I knew what real pain was, was when I met Shiloh. My obsession with her is a constant stab to the gut. A hole in my chest. Deep, hollow emptiness between my ribs.

I need to get the hell out of here. Get to her before anyone tries to stop me.

I get up, unbuckling Oswald. Next, I relieve him of his clothes. Hoodie, jeans, and shoes replace my jumpsuit and slip-ons.

Thankfully, his black hoodie hides the blood splatter.

I’m almost ready.

Almost.

The day is fading fast. Darkness settles over the forest, the road, the skies.

They’ll come looking for me in less than an hour.

I should be headed out.

Except two things are missing .

Two things that were stolen from me.

A quick search beneath the driver’s seat and I find Dick’s backpack. I look inside, and what’s left of my heart warms at the sight. My mask is there. On top of it is her photo.

Beautiful, sad Shiloh. Those blue eyes, so serious, so big and deep as they stare at her dad’s backyard. Pinched, puffy lips I’ve jerked off to so many times.

It’s criminal that they haven’t been around my cock yet.

I’m hard all over again, knowing she’ll be the first person to blow me. The first woman I’ll fuck.

My days of being a virgin are about to be over.

Sex never interested me before I got that photo of Shiloh. An eighteen-year-old Shiloh. Since then, it’s been constantly on my mind.

I want to hurt her.

Go balls deep inside her.

Own her.

I will.

Mask on. Photo inside my jeans pocket. Hood up and over my head.

Dick’s wrist is next. I grab it with one hand. Hold on to his middle finger with the other.

Twist. Pull. Twist. Twist. Pull.

It’s amazing how fragile the human body is. How effortless it is to tear off a person’s finger. There and gone.

I shove it into the pocket of my hoodie.

Fall leaves scrunch beneath my boots as I start the walk back home.

Ready or not, little sister.

I’m coming for you.