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“Nice to officially meet you, Andy.”
“Nice to meet you too, Sophia.”
“Bye!” She waves and rushes away.
I watch her go, getting up to make sure she gets to Mabel before I start back to my car. And I know right here and now, I’d do anything for this little girl.
Anything at all.
No matter whose name she carries.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
KAYLA
I’ve beena good girl the past three days. I haven’t killed a soul. And A has been awfully quiet too. Haven’t even gotten a note from him.
I quite miss them. Misshim.
I hate admitting that. But I can’t deny it’s true.
I want to see him again. Talk to him. Feel those sensations he brings out in me.
Why hasn’t he reached out?
Did he get sick of me? Did he move on to some other damaged girl who’s less broken? Maybe he’s better off…
I’ve done all I can to get my mind off him. Had a session with Dr. Collins. Went to work at the club. Studied. Went out to eat with Elsie and Jade. Sat in the park and watched the sun rise.
I even read a book. I hadn’t read one since before I was taken. It felt nice. Too nice. And I knew sooner or later it would all comecrashing down.
And today, it did just that.
My heart races at the headline on the television screen.
Midnight Murderer struck again.
This time she was an eighteen-year-old redhead with a beautiful smile, attending an Ivy League university to study biology. Her mother sobbed on the television screen, telling the world what was robbed from her.
Like me, this young woman wanted to become an oncologist. Her mother was a cancer survivor, and Bella wanted to help those battling the horrible disease, like the doctors who helped her mom did. And this animal, he took that from her, from the world. All the good she could’ve done. He wiped away her dreams and stole her future. For his own selfish, sickening pleasure.
If I could, I’d kill every single one of them. Every depraved soul that walks these streets. They’re all like the ones who took me and my friends. They don’t see us as people. We’re just toys for their pleasure.
But how do I find this killer? He doesn’t even have a type. I can’t make myself prey.
I would if I could. I’d lure him in, and then I’d be the one to kill him.
Or at least I’d die trying.
My phone goes off suddenly, yet I still stare at the TV screen as I pick it up, glancing to see who it is, thinking it’s my mom again.
But it’s a text from a number I don’t recognize.
That gets my attention.
Anonymous
Hey.
