Chapter Sixteen
The Shape of Hunger
I was born in the wrong time.
The world has traded appetite for performance. Want for rules. Hunger for permission slips.
I miss urgency. The kind that turns a hallway into a confession. A hand on a wrist, a mouth on a throat, the body’s honest answer before the mind can lie about it.
I know what you’re thinking. I must be a deviant. I must want control.
You’re wrong.
I want consent to feel like surrender.
I want the world to remember desire. Urgency. A body pushed against a door because waiting even ten more steps would break you.
Maybe that’s all this is—an entire world starving and pretending it isn’t hungry. Needs unmet. Impulses denied. A pressure cooker of restraint waiting for someone to take the lid off.
I’m playing a game I perfected a long time ago. Whether you meant to join or not doesn’t matter—you’re already in. And games like mine? They have winners and losers. Losers . . . die.
The night before last, the island spoke again. A low vibration under the soil, through the salt air, sliding beneath my skin—a hum older than anyone alive, older than Catalina herself. It told me what to do next. It demanded motion.
I saw her walking alone, the moon turning her hair into a gold ribbon brushing against the night. Following her had been effortless. Natural. When she finally sensed me behind her, she startled—but then she smiled. Soft. Almost fond.
“You again,” she said.
We walked together, my steps guiding hers, up the hill toward the Chimes Tower. My pulse was steady. No nausea. No trembling. No hesitation. Everything inside me aligned—smooth as breath. It felt . . . right.
She’d been ordinary before my hands found her. But afterwards—after her final exhale—she was exquisite. Suspended from the tower, her hair swaying in the breeze, blood trailing down her pale skin, a single red brushstroke. And the bells . . . they rang because I wanted them to.
Avalon needed to hear them.
They don’t know my name, but they live inside my world. After the first death, they were uneasy. After this one? Let’s see how safety feels now. Let’s see how loudly fear echoes between their sweet little houses.
I drink with them. I laugh with them. They have no idea. Fools always make the king laugh.
Do you love how she was found? I think it’s quite poetic. Who am I? Do you know? Do you really think I’m ready to tell you? That would ruin the game, and we’re only just warming up.
When they pulled Heidi’s body down, the sun broke across her like she was carved from marble. A masterpiece. I hope the cameras captured every angle. Tonight, I’ll write her name in the sand and watch the tide erase it. Every artist signs their work.
Some will call me a monster—evil, insane.
But the truth is simpler.
There is beauty in release. Mercy in the taking.
Everyone has an angel and a devil whispering in their ears. Most people choose one. I listen to both.
And I like what they have to say. They’ve started whispering in someone else’s ear, too.