Page 58 of Pareidolia

If I did it slowly, would his anger fade into something else… a hot wash of terror, of regret…

The cramps in my chest get worse, arcing out and making my fingers spasm so hard the knife falls to the ground before I have a chance to use it. It takes everything inside me to straighten my body.

“I don’t owe you anything. You’re no one to me.”

I can’t even make myself sound like a person when I speak. The apathy that usually consumes me makes the words come out soft and dangerous.

I’m going to fuck my entire life up in this damn diner if I don’t go, because all I can think of is bending down and picking up the knife to gouge out his eyes when he starts speaking again.

“The fuck you don’t, boy. I helped your parents raise you when you were young.” If by “helped” he means he stayed at the house sometimes while they went out to drink, sure. “I didn’t see you at their funeral.”

The man’s accusation is enough to burn across my skin. It wasn’t that I missed it—I’d heard about their car accident, and I’d intentionally made sure to skip the fucking funeral.

I didn’t want to be here.

I still don’t want to be here.

“That wasn’t an accident.” At least the confession feels good spilling from my throat.

“You’ve always been fucked up, you know that?” Blake’s eyes narrow. “Your mom used to tell me about it, the way you didn’t care. The way you didn’t feel. You’re a little freak.”

He shoves me, and that crawling, squirming sensation in my chest surges up my throat, makes my mouth water.

Kill. I could kill him. I could drown in his regret for ever touching me. I could cut him apart one slow piece at a time until I was bathed in his terror… I…

I…

I stare at the man in front of me, glance around at the fucking crowd around us… and realize exactly how close I am to losing control.

Kill a whole town and upset the balance.

I understand what Nox meant when he said it now. The temptation to start taking… to take and take until there’s nothing left, until there are no more emotions to tempt me into losing my mind…

It’s so strong that I have to push back, bumping into another body as I do.

Fucking Ewan Daniels steadies me as I drag my hand across my chest, tugging at my jacket and trying to free the stinging beneath my skin that makes it feel like my ribcage is bubbling and boiling.

“Are you okay, Alex?”

“Fine,” I gasp—I lie—and push away from him. “Just… not… feeling well. I need air.”

I zip up my jacket before I end up yanking it off so everyone in the damn cafe can see the way my skin glows beneath the fabric, and I take off at a run without looking back.

If I look, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop myself if someone stares back at me and realizes I’m a monster.

If I look, I’m going to lose my mind.

If I look, it almost feels like I’m going to damn the city and everyone in it to the hunger that’s uncoiling inside my belly and threatening to swallow me alive.

Hunger.

I’m so fucking hungry, and I know it isn’t food I need.

What I need is in the forest—in the trees, in the shadows. I run for it.

For him.

I run to Nox, because I am the monster that he made, and I need his shadows to keep me tethered inside my skin.