~16 years old~
Chapter 10
I closed out the chat window, pushing the mouse with exasperated irritation. I’d been relegated to browsing chat rooms and forums for the next perv. Pretending to be a lonely 16-year-old girl looking for that special someone wasn’t that hard of a stretch. Except my special someone graduated in 6 weeks and his girlfriend – yeah, girlfriend! – had an eerie similarity to Kristin Stewart. I wished she’d get bit by a vampire and die!
Every kill had taken a part of me, hardened me.
My sixteenth birthday came as the days crawled by with torturous slowness. I couldn’t breathe most of the time. Skipped school. Stopped running so much. I stuck to staying inside my house, pummeling the body bag and jogging on the treadmill. Everything seemed gray.
My computer and I had become fast friends and I’d stalked multiple people more deserving of death than I could cover alone.
The thought of Deegan going on to college made me ill. Physically ill. My stomach would cramp and I would rush to the toilet to throw up. Easy to keep the weight off since it’s all I thought about. That and my three kills.
If I focused on anything else for too long, I would cry and not stop.
Standing outside the kitchen on my “sweet” day, I stared at the calendar hanging from the cork board my mom had put up years ago. No one had bothered changing the calendar from the year before. My birthday mocked me on the paper, the day after was the day she’d died. That would be tomorrow, her anniversary. I wanted to celebrate, but I couldn’t celebrate so many things at once. I had my birthday, her death, and the anniversary of killing Bobby.
Nothing I could come up with would seem appropriate for celebrating Mom’s death. It’s not exactly something they made a singing Hallmark card for – oh, so sorry to hear about your death, here’s a card you can do nothing with.
I grimaced. Mom’s death was out. So no matter what, Cassie, I’m not going out on the town to party.
My dad walked past me into the kitchen. “We need to talk. Call your brother down.” That was it. No hey-happy-birthday-kid or sorry-your-mom’s-dead-I’m-still-here. Same thing for the past year. Nothing but business.
Turning to the stairs, I yelled up for my brother to join us. Tromping and clomping answered me.
In the kitchen, I sat at the counter on my favorite stool, staring at the laminate. My brother walked in, joining me with his arms crossed and head lowered.
Dad leaned against the counter, his arms straight, holding him from crumpling. Graying hair had replaced his dark-as-chocolate locks my mom had loved. Somewhere, when I wasn’t looking, my dad had traded places with the stranger before me.
Yet, it didn’t surprise me. I wasn’t me. I’d never be me again. And killing that cop had damaged any chance of finding me again.
“Well…” He thrummed his fingers. “The thing is, I’ve been offered a job with a ministry on the coast.”
And? That’s it. All he was going to say? My brother and I looked at each other, then back at Dad. I was the oldest, so I asked. “What does that mean?”
Dad sighed, not meeting our eyes. “It means we’re moving after school lets out.” We gasped. Dad lifted his hands. “What do you want me to do? I can’t do this without your mother. She’s…” He sobbed and broke down in front of us. I rolled my eyes. As bad as I felt for him, he was the adult, he should be holding it together for his kids. Instead, he roamed around like a damn zombie, ignoring his children and everything he preached. The guilt over sinning so much the last couple of years had become easier to ignore when I was faced with evidence of my own father’s inequities.
Finally, I’d hit my wall. The introverted lifestyle I’d been living, the different way things were turning out than how I’d pictured them – seriously, why wasn’t Deegan dating me? Why had he made it so easy to quit boxing? Hadn’t pushed for me to join up with the school? Why hadn’t he chased after me following the last tattoo?
The mounting pain and confusion in every aspect of my life reached a pinnacle and I slammed my hand on the counter. The slap snapped Dad out of his wailing and my brother into facing me.
“I don’t care what you think you need to do regarding your job. Do you think, Dad, that you’re going to be able to work better somewhere else?” I shook my head, disgust rich in the snarl of my lip. “I’m not going.” I lowered my gaze, focusing on holding the quiver from my voice. “Mom lived here. She’s resting not far away.” I lifted my face, my eyes shooting as fiercely into his as possible. “You’re not taking me away from that. How could you even want to?”
Dad sobbed again, his breath hitching. I wanted to scream and shout, but I couldn’t. One of us had to act like the adult.
My brother’s stoicism scared me. He never cried. I hadn’t seen him show any sign of emotional loss since Mom had passed.
I had to find a pervert fast. My anniversary was in a week and if I meant anything to Deegan he’d follow me on that night to help me commemorate the date. I just didn’t have a particular one in mind and since I’d been dry for almost a year, I needed it to be good… really good. I almost wouldn’t mind one with some impact.
Leaving the kitchen, I chose to ignore the fact that neither of them had wished me a happy birthday. I wouldn’t be celebrating my birthday. Maybe I could focus on Mom’s day and then the big one. The one that felt productive, worthwhile. The one that filled me with a righteous heat, made me feel alive. Brought me closer to Deegan where we were together for one night.
For the first time in ages, I wanted to run. Feel the air on my skin. It’d been raining for days. My favorite type of weather, rain and just about sixty degrees. The cloud cover kept the heat in. I could run in a tee and sweats or a pair of board shorts. Changing into board shorts would be fastest. I dug through my closet for my running shoes, hidden under piles of boots and dark clothing.
Slipping into my gear, I closed my eyes and remembered the last time I’d gone out at night. With Deegan dogging along beside me. He wouldn’t be there during the day, wouldn’t be there on a day that had no meaning to the both of us, but I could dream. Hell, even I deserved a birthday gift.
Slamming the front door, I thrust from the porch into the rain tumbling about in the wind. No matter which way I turned, refreshingly cold water smacked me in the face, my neck, arms, soaked my hair and made my clothing cling to my skin. I wouldn’t go back into the claustrophobic heat for anything. I broke into a jog, finding my stride like I’d never left it.
Pounding on the pavement ate up the distance. I ignored the water running down my face, blinking it from my eyes. I puffed the air from my mouth, drops flying. I reached the high school and jogged around to the track. Flat surface would be welcomed to run on, a mindless path where I wouldn’t have to worry about cars or bikes or my dad following me. Not that he searched for me ever anyway.
I wasn’t alone on the rubber oval.
Mr. Weston walked the inner lane, his sweatpants dark where wet and his windbreaker formed to his torso. The teacher creeped me out. He had this weird way of staring at anything but your face and if you wore a tight enough shirt, he stared at your tits while he taught class. Geometry. He taught math. I’d had him once.
Turning around when I reached him would be rude, so I pulled alongside. “Hi Mr. Weston. Liking the rain?”
He started, turning towards me. His gaze skimmed my face, training on my chest under drenched clothing. I was cold so most likely I was nipping out, too. Mr. Weston’s eyebrows lifted. “Well, hello Cassie. How are you today?”
Eyes up here, Mr. Weston. But I didn’t say it. I wanted to, but I didn’t. “I’m good, sir. Out for a run while I wait for my friends to meet me online to chat. Maybe role play or something.” Slowing to a walk, I wiped at my wet face, the drizzling rain immediately mocking my efforts.
“Oh, I didn’t know you role played. What games are you into?” Interest sparked in his eyes.
Hmmm. A lead-in question. One I’d have to be careful wi
th my answer. Too forward would scare him off – too subtle and he wouldn’t catch on. I think my mom used to use the word coy. I’d have to be coy. “I’m into all different kinds of games. But the computer is just for when I can’t play the way I want to. It’s just simulation. Not quite as stimulating, you know?”
“It’s good for teens to engage in healthy, stimulating activities.” We walked along for a moment, our silence covered by the hushed roar of the falling rain. Around the curve of the far corner we kept pace. He pointed at the bench positioned near the finish line. “My stuff is under that umbrella. This is my last lap. But it’s been nice having company. Thanks, Cassie.”
Drastic measures would have to be taken. I needed to speed things up. If I was going to get a confirmation that he really was perverted and did the things I’d only heard whispered about, I’d have to up my game.
Not one male on earth with naughty tendencies could handle a wet female falling into their hands. Good guys, sure, but a guy whose intentions aren’t great to begin with? Forget it.
I tripped myself, leaning his way as I fell. His chilly fingers caught me under my arms, grazing the soft skin hidden by my shirt sleeve. He stopped and pulled me close, pressing my chest to his. “Oh, Cassie, are you okay? You have to be so careful.” He wrapped his arms around me, as if I wouldn’t notice that his hands clasped the flesh above my ass. He was inches away from cupping my cheeks in his hands.
The hold continued. I pushed myself into him, running my hands up the windbreaker. I could see my breath as it puffed between us. “Mr. Weston, I’m sorry. I think I twisted my ankle.” I reached for the offended part, but didn’t let go of his jacket. He, in turn, didn’t alter his hold on me.
Looking around, Mr. Weston offered me his hand, wrapping his arm around my waist, his fingers digging into my side. We reached the bench and he sat me down under his umbrella. “I don’t think you should run on that, Cassie. Or walk, for that matter.” He withdrew his keys from a small bag and jingled them as if he didn’t already have the plan formed in his mind. “I shouldn’t do this. It’s not appropriate at all…” He stared at his keys, one finger hooked in the key ring. He waited.
Oh, crap. That was my cue. I leaned to the side, my shirt pulling at my breasts. “Could you give me a ride, Mr. Weston? I won’t tell anyone. I promise.” Eyes wide, I brushed the wet hair from my face.
His eyes darkened. He had me – or so he thought. Funny, we were thinking the same thing about the other person. I had a feeling I’d be the winner though. Mr. Weston smiled. “Okay, but just this once.”
Yeah, right. One thing I wasn’t? Stupid. If I gave him the chance to be alone with me again, he’d take it. Any self-respecting teacher would have offered to call my parents. Not ogle me and then be alone with me. Yeah. I’d play it out, but depending on how far he wanted to take it, Mr. Weston might be my next kill.
Chapter 11
“I’m going to drop you off here.” A block from my house, Mr. Weston stopped the car. He reached across me and pushed the door open. As if forgetting the entire reason he’d driven me.
Swiveling on the bucket seat of his 1987 Mustang, I swung my legs out and climbed from the car.
“Oh, your leg. Can you make it?” He leaned over, his hand in the center of the seat I’d just left.
I smiled and arched my brow. “My leg’s fine, Mr. Weston. I just wanted to spend more time with you.” I winked and turned away, not giving him the opportunity to respond.
His car zoomed away when I reached my front porch. I had plans to make.
Once again, my despair lifted with the thought of another kill. Another chance to see Deegan.
~~~
All during school that week, I avoided Mr. Weston’s class. I didn’t have him on my schedule or anything, but my locker sat two classrooms down from his and he usually monitored the hallways between classes.
I walked alone. Everything I did was alone.
Friday came. I’d forgotten to do something for the anniversary of my mom’s death. But Dad didn’t. He had hit the whiskey hard and hadn’t resurfaced until Wednesday for his scripture study class with the youth.
My nerves twanged each time I clicked online. I’d left the chat rooms behind – at least for the week. No, instead I’d opted to study Google’s street view of Mr. Weston’s house. I made notes on a small pad of paper about the number of windows, the porch, his front door, the driveway. Everything.
He didn’t wear a ring and I’d never heard of any kids. Hopefully, he’d be alone Saturday when I showed up unannounced.
Friday. Oh man, I was so jumbled. I couldn’t focus for any set amount of time. Sheldon had died in a house. I could do houses.
“Cassie Mulligan? You’re excused to your next class.” My English teacher pointed at the door.
What was my next class? Study hall. “Sorry. Thanks.” I gathered my books and pencils and sauntered out the door. Nothing seemed stable. I only had three classes left for the day. Going home looked like the best option.
Caught up in planning around every possibility for that weekend, I didn’t watch where I was going and slammed into a wall. I dropped my books and looked up. Nope, never mind. I’d slammed into Deegan.
Tucking a loose chunk of hair behind my ear, I muttered, “Sorry.” And bent down to pick up my things.
He knelt, too, scooping up a pencil and some loose leaf paper that had broken free from a three-ring binder. Damn, he smelled so good – like maple leaves and freshly oiled leather. Softly, he spoke. “Here you go. How you doin’, Cass?”
The way he said it, like he knew I was unraveling, like he could smell my desperate need to off another terrible man. I lifted my chin, looking him straight in the eye, avoiding the twisted knot in my gut. “I’m good, Deegan. How you doin’?”
Disappointment lowered his lids. His lips parted like he was about to speak, but his girlfriend’s shrill voice cut him off. “Oh, Deegie-bear, do you really think you need to talk with sophomores?” She tugged on his arm, her pink nails bright against his dark brown tee. Narrowed eyes and tight lips directed my way didn’t hide her feelings under any social niceties.
I waved him off. “You better get going, Deegie-bear.” Rolling my eyes, I finished collecting my things and stood, prepared to see him nowhere around.
Instead, he held his ground in front of me – his face hard, unyielding, but with an edge of vulnerability. The girlfriend waited a few feet away.
I pursed my lips and jerked my chin up. “Good to know you wear the pants.” I’d never liked his girlfriend and couldn’t swallow the image of them together, kissing, holding hands, cuddling. Oh, crap, was that throw-up rushing up my throat?
Thou shalt not covet.
And I definitely coveted.
“Enough.” He sliced his hand through the air, stopping at waist level.
I bit back the next smartass remark begging to be let out. I nodded, crossing my arms over my chest and thrusting a hip out.
He leaned into me, his face suddenly awash in concern. “Look, I’m serious. How’re you doing?”
For a moment, I pretended there was no girlfriend, that he asked me because he cared. But the moment didn’t last when she tapped her fingernails on the tiled wall and cleared her throat. I tilted my head to take in her annoyed countenance, her own head angled such a way to try to eavesdrop on our conversation.
No pretending. Not anymore.
My features tightened. I didn’t need him. I didn’t need anyone. “Seriously. I’m fine.” I pushed my lips into my version of a sexy pout, as if to say, go ahead and argue with me. See what happens. I hoped I didn’t come across as a duckbilled platypus. But he didn’t take the challenge. I spun on the heel of my combat boot and walked off the other way, both from Deegan and the library.
And dang if I didn’t almost collide with Mr. Weston.
“Cassie. How are you?” His smooth smile spread quickly, his hand pulling from my shoulder even faster.
Deegan still c
lose to my back, I hitched my pile of things tight to my chest. “I’m good, Mr. Weston, how are you?” The previously packed hallway thinned out, students disappearing into their classes. A large clock stationed above the lockers a few doors down showed I had less than thirty seconds to get to study hall. “I’m sorry, sir. I’m going to be late for class. I already have two tardies in there as it is.” I wanted to woo him, but no way would I be able to kill him, if I was in Saturday detention and grounded by my dad because of it.
Plus, how did I pretend to care about Mr. Weston when I was so close to the guy I loved?
“No, no. It’s okay. I understand. I’ll see you later.” He eyed my chest, as if my curves were there for his pleasure only.
Before losing him to the consequences of my perceived disinterest, I flashed a flirty smile his way, pretending Deegan had taken his place. “Nice running into you, sir.” I swung left, right, then left again before turning around and leaving, making sure to peek at him over my shoulder. Pervert watched my ass walking away. Could he be any more obvious?
I ignored Deegan standing at the corner just past Mr. Weston, his girlfriend hanging on his arm and glaring at me.
Two men I’d planned on seeing that weekend had crossed my path on the day my need drove me to my limits. I couldn’t take a second longer of being in that building. I feigned the flu and got the hell out of there. I left my backpack in my locker.
~~~
“Home, home on the range. Where the deer and the buffalo…” Play? Kill? Eat? Weren’t they the same? I stared into the sink of bubbles and water. A pile of dirty dishes stacked to my right far outweighed the stack of clean ones on a towel to my left.
“Play. You can’t be forgetting already, right?” My brother snapped a towel at the bar of the oven door. “Come on. Where seldom is heard, a discouraging word. And the skies are dark…” He stopped and searched the air above his head for the words.
Psycho Inside Me Page 10
