Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 147801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
She’s probably the best thing that’s ever happened to Kill. Since she entered his life, he’s less consumed by chaos and even stopped pestering me.
And I’m thankful.
Despite my flawless act, pretending to be all about school and maintaining the perfect GPA, I’m on edge. No one notices, of course. But there’s a fire building inside me, swelling, growing, threatening to burn everything down.
Like an inferno.
"Come here, Gaz! Let me drown you!" Niko splashes water our way, and I grit my teeth when some of it hits me.
But Kill rushes in, immediately shielding Glyn from the mess.
"Should’ve mentioned you were coming. Miss me already?" He grins down at her, still in his white coat. Wouldn’t surprise me if he cut his internship short just to be here.
"Who says I’m here for you?" She glares up at him. "I actually came around to talk to Gareth."
Well, fuck me catching strays.
Kill tilts his head toward me, a murderous glint narrowing his eyes.
I lift my hands, smiling. "I plead not guilty. Not my fault I’m better company than you. Right, Glyn?"
"The fuck did you just say?" Kill growls.
"I’m just repeating Glyn’s words," I tease. "She said I’m better company than you and that she’s more comfortable around me."
It’s that suicidal mode again—the need to provoke, to get my head rattled or something.
Anything, really.
Kill starts toward me, but Glyn grabs his arm, and to my surprise, he stops dead in his tracks. He looks down at her, like he’s completely forgotten I exist—or that anyone else is around.
Then he drags her away.
To fuck, I suppose.
As I watch them disappear, my mind keeps circling back to that look in his eyes when she touched him. Manic…mixed with something else. Reason? No, calm?
She calms him? How the hell does she do that?
And why does he get that, while I’m left drowning in this raging volcano of emotions I can’t even explain?
Kill is the one person who resembles me the most. In a twisted way, I consider him someone who belongs to me. The other day, he was attacked and I felt murderous because I don’t like people touching what’s mine.
But right now, I’m more…envious.
Of what? Him? His relationship? His goddamn luck?
Fuck this.
I pull out my phone and frown at the thousand notifications I got on some stupid Reddit thread I made with a throwaway account.
All so I wouldn’t text that prick Kayden.
After the most intense sexual experience of my life, I woke up alone in his bed.
And he was gone.
Waiting for me on the kitchen counter, I found a strawberry smoothie, another bowl of strawberries, and a plate of breakfast food covered with plastic wrap.
The note said, “Eat so you’ll have the strength to handle me.”
I crumpled it.
But I did eat because I was hungry. Surprisingly, I was all clean and smelled like him, as if he ran a cloth with his shower gel all over my body.
I was fuming at the humiliation of it all, at him being right—that I might enjoy submitting and taking whatever he dishes out.
I hated how much it upset me.
And was ready to headbutt and punch him again. But not right away, because, honestly, my ass and jaw hurt, and I thought if he tied me up and touched me again, he might as well fuck me and erase my last shred of dignity.
So I stayed away.
For, like, three days.
And then I was pissed off because he didn’t get in touch at all.
I saw him on campus, so I knew he was teaching other classes and doing just fine, but he didn’t send any of his distasteful texts.
And I got more furious at myself for wanting his texts. It’s not like we’re in a damn relationship or anything, so why would he check in?
Anyway, even if he did text, I would’ve ignored him.
So I was looking forward to class to ignore him harder while I impressed him with my witness questioning skills.
But he called in sick on that day.
He wasn’t on campus the whole week.
And he wasn’t in his house. Yes, I went in again two times after he called in sick just to kick his face in and make him sicker.
Okay. Three times.
I don’t know where the hell he’s been, and I refuse to text him first. That’s just not going to happen.
Because, in reality, I should be elated that he finally fucked off out of my life.
And I am.
That’s all I wanted.
Right?
But somehow, the hole of emptiness I was born with has been burning at the edges like paper, slowly but steadily growing in size.
The PI, Nadine, wasn’t of any help. She just sent me what I asked for.
His yearbook picture in which he looked hot—kill me.
His favorite color is gray. Boring fucker.
He doesn’t have a favorite show or movie and doesn’t actually watch them.
His favorite music is classical, which I kind of knew, and his favorite composers are Bruckner and Rachmaninoff for some reason. Something I need to look into further.