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The door to my room is kicked in as I press the tip of my knife into the divot at the base of his throat, spearing his trachea as I silence his cries. Blood pools in his mouth, spewing all over his face and mine as I stare down at him. My eyes refuse to leave his until they close for the last time.
His injuries should have caused his death within minutes, and unconsciousness within mere seconds, but it feels like an eternity passes as I stare at the face of the evil that stripped me of my innocence. The evil that changed me forever.
His eyes finally flutter closed, and it’s only then do I realize we have company. A clap comes from my right, and the blade in my hand embeds itself into the wall less than a hair's breadth away from the intruder's face.
Havoc lifts an eyebrow as he keeps clapping. “Damn, little E, that was ruthless,” he says with a grin.
I’m straddling a corpse, and this man is clapping?
“Crazy fucker,” I say under my breath, shaking my head. I don’t know what the protocol is here for something like this.
“Was he your first?” Havoc asks as he leans over to check the man's pulse.
I freeze as my stomach knots. “He was my first kill here,” I say, hoping he lets the rest of it go. “He was going to rape me.” I’m not sure why I feel the need to justify what I did to this man, especially in a place like this.
“You’re not the only one he’s gotten his hands on,” he says dismissively, walking to the end of the bed to grab the sheet and pull it over him. “You okay?”
Genuine concern fills his eyes, and I crawl off the bed, only just realizing how covered in blood I really am. I look like I just stepped out of the movie Carrie.
“I think so.” I take a moment to figure out what I feel as the adrenaline wears off. “He had it coming. Does it make me a bad person to be totally okay?”
Havoc pauses before he comes over to stand by me. Gray hairs peek out of his beard, and the sadness that fills the space between us has me wondering what happened to this man to bring him here. “You are the furthest thing from a bad person,” he says. “Next time someone comes in your door at night, aim to kill. Set a standard and keep it.” He turns to face the dead man. “I’ll take care of him. You go shower.”
I turn, still in a daze from what happened. Grabbing a change of clothes, I head to my bathroom with my mind in a fog. I’m about to strip off my clothes when someone jumps out at me, causing a scream to tear through my throat.
???
I jolt awake, my throat raw from screaming in my sleep. Sweat has my sheets sticking to me, reminding me too much of the blood that coated me in the nightmare. I throw the covers off and walk to the bathroom on shaky legs. I splash water on my face and will myself to come back to the present as moments of my first kill flash back to my mind.
Night terrors have a way of forcing our body to remember a feeling and latch onto it. No matter how many times I tell myself that I'm awake, and safe, it doesn't seem to matter. The adrenaline in my body takes hold, fighting with the melatonin and cortisol. The war of chemicals within my mind traps me in this shaky nauseated state. I slowly ease myself to sit on the floor, using the counter as support.
Deep breaths. In the nose, out the mouth.
Finally, the nausea subsides, and the shaking isn't as bad.
I hate this feeling. These stupid flashes from the past should have no control over me now. My hands reach for my blades, itching to bring myself some relief. My many therapists have taught me a lot of coping mechanisms to get through this trapped feeling. Unfortunately, the only thing that’s ever seemed to be effective is the feeling of cold steel cutting into my thighs.
I was told this is normal, the idea that we can bleed out the pain is something our brains can become accustomed to. Society might think it’s ugly or stupid, but they don’t get an opinion because they haven’t lived my life. I walk back to my bed carrying a towel and grab a blade from my nightstand. Slowly, I slide it down my outer thigh and watch as blood traces behind and relief follows.
The shaking starts to fade as I set the blade down and clean up my leg with the towel. Thank goodness they're black, and I won’t have to explain the blood to anyone. I take a few more breaths, then look at the clock. Two thirty in the morning, only four hours since I fell into the pillow.Great.
I get up and throw back on my dirty hoodie from my run and some longer compression shorts.
I don't want to go on a run just in case Lev is up again. I'm not ready to face him just yet. Not after what transpired between us yesterday. Since it's the middle of the night, I figure I can go a few rounds with the bag while no one’s watching. I'm not quite ready for everyone here to be aware of my skill level, so this is the perfect time to do a workout. I consider showering there, but then I remember the small, dark shower stalls. The nausea tries to return, but I choke it back and force myself to stay in the present. Small spaces normally don't bother me, but with the terror still lingering, it will only remind me of feeling small and vulnerable again.
I grab my stuff and leave a little note for Laney before heading out the door, telling her I'll be back in time for us to walk to breakfast together. It's going to be nice having a friend.
Chapter 15
I'm staring at the ceiling, unable to force myself to fall asleep. Most nights I sleep like a baby, but today keeps replaying over and over in my head. I keep thinking about our first meeting with Evie. How she seemed to stop breathing when I approached. That moment when her gaze got stuck on my lips, and her cheeks turned pink. The dark gleam in her eyes when Alexi closed her in and there was nowhere left to run.
Yet, instead of panicking like any normal person would when surrounded by us, she stood up taller. Not like she was trying to intimidate us, but more like she knew exactly who she was at that moment. And she wasn't someone who was afraid. I almost felt proud of her, seeing someone go toe to toe with us without flinching is pretty rare.
In the food hall when I asked for vodka, there was no judgment in her eyes. Yet, she could see I was pissed at Alexi for trying to make me look like a child who ordered dessert before a meal. She didn't look at me like that though, she reminded me of my mother in a way. When I would make a bad choice, she would offer me other choices instead of calling me out for my decision.
Then seeing her juices all over Lev’s face, smelling them as he spoke to me. The memory is almost enough for me to lay here and jack off to. My body is humming with energy that isn’t dissipating, despite the fact that it's well after two in the morning. I can’t take the idea of laying here any longer.
I get out of bed and decide to get something to eat. I throw on some black sweatpants and a black sleeveless hoodie before jogging to the dining hall. There’s an ordering station open all hours of the day and night we can access.
