Page 33 of His Wicked Revenge

“Save it, Slater. I’ve seen and done much worse than this.” I gesture towards the lifeless body. “Besides, what are friends for if they don’t help you clean up a murder scene?”

I grin at the memory. At the terror that spread across his face due to his actions. He was a frightened little lamb standing under the darkened sky. I, on the other hand, was used to seeing the dead. Granted, I had been wielding the knife, but it was still the same.

Pain begins to shoot from the soles of my feet all the way up to my calf. These heels aren’t tall, but I’m not used to wearing them. I figured Camille Saunders was a heel wearer, but now I am second-guessing making that decision.

Although my bed is calling my name, and I would love to curl under the warm covers and rest my feet, I divert from the path back to my place.

Instead of making a right on the street, I continue straight. Allowing my sore feet to guide me, I end up at a nearby park.

People run along asphalt paths as if preparing for the upcoming marathon; others are just here to stroll. Multiple visitors sit on blankets in the vast stretch of land, reading books or catching up with friends.

As I stroll down the pathway, the pain from the heels becomes too much, and I stop, lifting one foot at a time to remove them. Stepping into the cool grass, I sigh in relief before continuing to walk.

Coming across an open area, I sit right on the lawn. Resting back on my hands, I tilt my head and let the sun hit my face. The warmth sinks into my skin, seeping deep down to my bones. This is the perfect weather for late June.

I’ll be sad when summer is over. If all goes well, maybe Leo will want to travel somewhere that is always hot. The thought of us on a beach together warms my body more than the sun. At the idea, I sit forward and dig in my purse for my journal.

I haven’t added any more drawings to the cover since I was in the asylum. I haven’t had the inspiration.

I open it to the next blank page and uncap my pen, placing the back end between my lips until I decide what I want to write.

As my pen glides across the paper, leaving trails of letters in its wake, I lose myself in the words. I have no idea how long I’ve been writing, but I’m suddenly snapped out of it when I hear a familiar voice.

It’s a male voice, and it’s not Leo.

This voice sends chills through my body, sending me into a state of alarm and panic. With my head angled down at the journal in my lap, I lift my eyes to find the man coming closer.

I wouldn’t be able to mistake his voice. Not after spending so much time with him. My heart pounds in my chest, threatening to jump right out of my body and skitter away.

Henry Bennett walks down the path beside a woman. Although he has aged within the past few years, which is inevitable, he doesn’t look bad. The lady walking alongside him has a worried expression, and he nods calmly as he listens to her words.

Why the hell is he in the city?

I’ve never known Dr. Bennett to venture beyond the walls of Black Lake.

They get closer, and both get so involved in their conversation that they don’t notice those around them. I swallow the lump in my throat as they walk directly in front of me.

My entire body freezes, and I’m unable to move even if I want to. I guess I should be thankful for this because if I were to get up right now and make a run for it, it would only draw attention to me, and that is not what I need.

I keep my head low, but my eyes follow their every movement. If Henry does glance my way, there is a good chance that the changes I’ve made to myself will throw him off, and he will think I’m a random woman enjoying a beautiful day in the park.

It was a beautiful day. Until he strolled by like a storm cloud, darkening my surroundings.

“I’m just worried about her. She never used to be this way,” the woman says, a choked cry in her throat.

“We will get her the help she needs,” Dr. Bennett reassures her while gently rubbing her back.

I become hesitant to leave when I hear them mention me as they walk past. “Not to be rude, but Black Lake doesn’t have the best track record securing the grounds and ensuring the patients don’t get hurt. There was that one woman who escaped after all. What was her name again?” the woman asks.

“Ah, yes, her name was Veronica Rollins.” He sighs.

As quickly as I may want to leave and as risky of a decision as it is to stay, knowing that he could recognize me at any moment, I miss this guy. I wouldn’t mind hearing what Dr. Bennett has to say about me—I am his favorite patient after all.

Bennett ushers the woman toward a park bench further down. They aren’t in hearing distance, so I grab my belongings and slowly walk toward the tree a few feet behind the bench, keeping my head down and my back turned.

I can hear the woman say, “Yes, her. I just don’t want my little girl to go missing like her. I mean, who knows what kind of danger she could be in being out there all alone?”

Does she really think that I am the one who’s in danger? Does she not know that I killed before? I think she needs to read the newspaper better because I am definitely not the one who needs to be kept safe.