Page 254 of Fatality

The steam is almost gone.

My index finger traces the muscle in his leg as it twitches beneath my touch.

“Why are you like this, Evren?”

He lifts his head out of my hair. “The fuck do you mean?”

“I mean…” I shift, untangle myself, and turn to face him, making the water slosh around us. “What the hell happened to you for you to be so fucked up in the head?”

His eyes narrow, his jaw clenches.

“What do you want me to say?”

“The truth.”

He sighs and rubs his face hard before running a wet hand through his hair, slicking it back.

His cheekbone implant reflects his bathroom light.

“The truth?”

I nod and cross my arms over my chest.

“I've always been like this.” He shrugs. “Always moving, always fighting to the death.”

My eyes widen, and I frown.

I don't quite get what he means by always fighting.

Since what age?

“What?”

“You heard me.” His voice drops to a low tone, making my skin crawl. “The first person I murdered was over a fucking piece of bread and water. I was six, he was ten.”

I scramble back instinctively before realizing what I'm doing, shocked by the revelation.

“Wh-what? Six?” I ask incredulously

It's mind-bogglingly young, I can't wrap my head around it.

What the fuck is wrong with him? I knew he was violent and a psychopath from day one, but six years old?

It's disturbing on another level.

“Don't be surprised,” he says with a chilling smile. “You know what I am. But if you want the story, I'll tell you—not because I owe you anything, but because you asked.”

My body tenses, there's a mix of danger and safety in the air.

I can’t even process how deeply, unsettling he is.

“So, I'm a Below, right? Born and raised in that hell.” he continues as he stands up and steps out into the room.

He takes a towel and secures it at his hips with a knot.

The sight of the water trickling over his body, across his tattoos, and disappearing beneath the towel hanging low on his hips makes my mouth go dry, and my legs shift together.

But this isn't the fucking time.