Page 41 of Veiled

I repeat those three things over and over.

But it feels so real. Too real. I still can’t get in a full breath, the smell of copper is stuck in my nose, and I can still feel the weight of his hand on my arm.

I press my palms into my eyes, trying to make it stop, trying to remind myself I’m safe, but I realize even that isn’t true as my vision is now blurred by the sweat pooled in my hands.

I freeze.

My hands are wet.

Not with sweat.

Thicker. Warmer.

My vision swims. Panic claws up my throat as I scramble for my phone on the nightstand, my thumb trembling too hard to unlock it, forcing me to type my password with shaking fingers.

My flashlight turns on.

And I scream.

Because my walls, my bed, my skin—are all smeared, splattered, and drenched in pigs' blood.

The same pig that’s lying right next to me, disemboweled, with a blood-soaked note pinned to its head with my dagger.

You locked the door. Cute.

But I’ll wait until we can have more time together.

Chapter sixteen

Annalise

Iplay through a million scenarios on what I should do about Lucas and his friends, but unfortunately, all of my options face the same roadblocks, and I can’t find a way to report them. I have no proof that it was him, and between the two of us, only I have a criminal record.

“You’re never sleeping alone again,” Matt grumbles from the other side of my room as he scrubs my wall.

After calling him in a literal blind panic, he’s been helping me clean my room from top to bottom before everyone else wakes up. All of the bedding is stuffed into the duffel bag that I used to move to Scion with, and a plan is set for us to ditch it deep in the woods tomorrow night.

“You should let me kill him already and be done with it. I am sure I could make it look like an accident,” he suggests for what must be the twentieth time.

“We would still be their first suspects if even a hair on his head was messed up.” I remind him…again.

“Maybe we can get a dragon to drop him and forget to catch him?”

My laugh isn’t my own—filled with sleep deprivation and the emotions from the last twelve hours. “Did you really just suggest that we could convince a dragon to commit murder for us?” I struggle to catch my breath. “You really need sleep if that’s the kind of solution you’re coming up with.”

“You're right, we do need sleep. You go shower, and I’ll pull out a uniform for you. We’ll go crash in my room.”

I don’t argue, I can’t. I’m filthy, I stink, and if I were to walk into the halls and someone saw me right now, they’d think I was the girl from the movie Carrie.

When we climb into his bed a short while later, I don’t fight him when he tells me he’s turning my running alarm off.

“Goodnight, Mattey.”

“Night, Lee.”

A normal person would be tossing and turning if they were in my position, and while the tiniest part of me wants to squirm as I still feel the remnants of the blood coating me, I can’t deny that, without meaning to, Lucas actually gave me a gift by leaving the pig. Every time my mind tries to latch on to when I’ve been covered in blood before, mine or my dad’s, and tries to pull me into a dark spiral, I can picture the slaughtered pig lying next to me.

Yes, it’s fucked up, but it’s what I need to hold onto right now. That, and the sleep that’s calling my name.