Chapter 24
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR
SUMMER
I ’ve been lost in my textbook for the past hour, only occasionally aware of the cool breeze whispering past my cheek. Five days have blurred into one since my last interaction with him. It’s Friday now, and I fucked Lincoln, or Mikael, or whoever that was on Monday. I only saw Lincoln in class once this week, on Wednesday, and he ignored me. The silence is deafening.
I grip the phone and swipe to my last set of messages with Lincoln. Five days have gone by since we’ve spoken. I’m barely sleeping, barely functioning. I stay up until three in the morning, trying to drown out all the other thoughts I should be reconciling, or the fact that I’m falling into a dark hole.
Although, I’m not sure if the intense emotions I’m feeling are love.
It’s the same insidious thoughts I have about getting off on being killed. He’s planting these ideas in my mind, controlling me from the inside out, and there is nothing I can do to stop it. Lincoln is smart, a certified genius, but this is beyond anything I could ever imagine.
I stayed late on campus today to just breathe and avoid Dani, who can sense that something is seriously wrong with me. The grass is still soft, not quite dead yet, although the earliest hints of fall have crept into the air given it’s pushing mid-October. The campus is still busy, even though classes ended an hour ago, but it’s thinning out, people are drifting out of the sandstone buildings, and the evening sun layers onto the trees like the brilliant red of the blood trickling down Cali’s arm.
I’m not convinced Lincoln is a serial killer—at least, not the psychotic and calculated kind we see in the movies.
First, the way he kissed me. I’ve learned through my obsessive research the last few days that most of the killers in popular culture are sexual serial killers. As in, they get sexual gratification from the act of killing itself, where the violence takes the place of sex. Second, sexualized serial killers often place their victims in sexually degrading positions without actually having intercourse with them. What I’ve learned is that killing is like the cherry on top for their release. They have no remorse, no guilt, just pure sexual pleasure over the act itself. They are neither a psychopath nor a sociopath, but are something else entirely. Scientists have no way of knowing what that something else is exactly, because they are so rare and hard to study.
Lincoln enjoyed fucking me way too much for me to think it’s anything but immensely satisfying for him, and I don’t get the sense Lincoln is a killer at all. He is way too kind and smart.
Mikael, however, is a different story.
I’m pretty sure I almost died when he fronted while he was fucking me on Lincoln’s desk. I physically felt how different they were in that moment, and that was when it cemented for me that there are indeed two of them.
That makes my stomach burn because it means he gets his true sexual satisfaction in a way he’s yet to experience with me. And I don’t know how to change that, or if I can change it.
There is something else that’s been bothering me since that day.
The eyes.
Lincoln can’t see a damn thing, and Mikael’s eyes were normal when he came alive with me. But sometimes, they seem translucent, almost ethereal. So what version of him am I getting when his eyes are like that?
That’s the version I saw at the dinner table that terrified me to my core. I’m only seeing fragmented pieces of him, and I want to see all of him.
I glance down at my phone and hover my thumb over it as it buzzes, interrupting my train of thought, as ringing takes over my earbuds.
I shift my gaze to the canopy in the sky and lay my head on the ground, utterly dreading the sound of her voice as I answer the call.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Oh my god,” she huffs out a breath on the other end of the line. “You finally answered. I thought you were dead.”
I’ve been avoiding her call for days—ever since I’ve started suspecting what my father was. I have a hard time believing she knew nothing about any of it. I roll my eyes, but my insides squirm at the validity of that comment, even though sarcasm is dripping out of her.
I should be dead, and so should she, because of the monster she chose to spend her life with.
I grit my teeth but smile. “I’m not dead, Mom. I’m really busy studying and being the perfect college student. But don’t worry, no one has torn my eyes out yet if you’re worried about what’s on the news.”
A pause. “That’s not funny, Summer.”
“Isn’t it?” I can’t help but smile. I have to wonder what secrets she holds, and how much she knows. How could she not know she was married to a notorious serial killer?
Maybe she and I aren’t that different after all.
Can you be brainwashed into loving someone?
“How’s school going, Summer?”
I close my textbook, marking the beginning of Sensation and Perception, and shove the textbook into my bag.
All my senses are on fire. I can still feel the slickness of him fucking me. The burning…as he accurately described it. The pleasure coming straight from hell.
I chew on my lip as the mark on my hip flares. “I’m fine.”
She lets out a deep sigh. “Are you coming home for a visit soon? I really miss you. This house isn’t the same without you.”
She doesn’t miss me; she misses the idea of me. She misses prancing me around like an accessory. But I really, really miss my father.
“I’ll think about it,” I tell her, but I won’t. School’s too busy, and Mikael told me not to run away from him. Simple polite words, I realize now, were a command.
“Please consider it, Summer.” The phone clicks dead before I can answer.
“I won’t,” I mutter. My mother and I have barely spoken since my father died.
I’m unable to move. It’s like he controls me completely. Last night I stared out the window for an hour, wishing I could escape. I want to run away from here—away from him, away from this nightmare—but my legs won’t budge. The thought of it makes me sick. He’s in my head, manipulating my thoughts.
Over the past three days, I’ve learned there is no one named Mikael who attends this school with that peculiar spelling.
No reference to him at all, anywhere, as if this town wiped him clean.
I am absolutely sure that Mikael lives somewhere deep inside Lincoln’s head. And because of the news article, I am certain Mikael was there first.
I turn to my side, keeping my head on the ground, and type in Lincoln’s name again. His picture pops up as I stare at his superficial IG profile.
He’s so gorgeous, so composed and dark, his skin so smooth. His jawline cut so tight, his clothes hugging his body, wearing all black like he always does. His skin is a soft pale white, like a ghost, like he barely exists, and whoever snapped this photo caught the very edges of him. An ethereal image of perfection.
Even now, it’s like he’s staring right at me through those thick glasses. Goosebumps pebble my skin as my nipples grow hard beneath the fabric of my dress.
He’s always watching…
I lie back on the grass, and even though I’m wearing a trench coat, only a thin line of my panties covers me beneath my dress. I open my legs like my life depends on it.
Dammit …I’m missing something so obvious. Something right in front of me. I’m missing him again, tortured, waiting for him to call when it seems like he is blatantly ignoring me.
I grab my phone and swipe to SF, my nails tapping the screen.
Summer: I’m done with you. Pick someone else to torment.
I slam my phone down, not expecting a response. The worst part is I’m not even upset or scared of what this guy is capable of. I’m rabidly pissed off because he’s playing phone games with me, like we are actually dating, and I’m unsure if I should play hard to get or let him know I’m interested.
He’s winning in every aspect of this game right now.
A few minutes go by, and I wonder if he’s even going to bother answering me. Then he messages me, causing the butterflies in my stomach to stir.
Fuck him…finally.
SF : Hello to you, too.
I squeeze my eyes shut and take a deep breath before opening them again. No indication which version is behind these words.
Summer : Why are you ignoring me?
SF: I’ve been busy, Summer…I defend my thesis in January.
I let out a sigh. So normal…on the outside. Just writing his thesis, while at the same time, mind-fucking girls.
Summer: Well, I’m studying, too. I just…
SF: Do you miss me watching you? Because I promise, I can’t stop thinking about you, either.
I run my fingers along my lips, imagining him watching me, and they twitch into a smile. I play with the hem of my dress, laying my bare legs out under what’s left of the heat of the sun.
Summer : Yes, I miss you.
I hate admitting it, but I’m unable to lie to him. He seems to see right through my lies, anyway.
SF: I love the dress you have on, pretty girl.
Pretty girl?
I shoot my head up and peer around the now empty campus, my heart in my throat as those darkened sun rays now blend into the earth and sky.
Mikael. In a moment, he’s shifted. I don’t think Lincoln’s the one talking to me anymore, and he’s here somewhere.
My gaze finally settles on him in the shadows of the trees, watching me like he always does. The final stream of sun hit my eyes, causing me to squint, but I can make out the mask staring back at me. The familiar tightness wraps around my muscles and pleasure builds between my legs at the sight of him.
I reach down and press the call button, and I watch him move his hand to his pocket; he picks it up on the second ring but doesn’t lift the phone to his ear. He’s so still…he looks like a scarecrow, and I have to remind myself to breathe.
“How do I know which one of you is watching me right now?” I ask in a meek voice.
A small shift of his head. A breeze shuffling the leaves high above. “You don’t,” he says. I can hear him so clearly through the phone.
I bite my lip and watch him, too scared to move, too scared to stay, but knowing running won’t matter.
Something washes over me. I close my eyes for a moment, enjoying the cool wind on my face, as a tiny drop of rain hits my cheek, and then another.
He doesn’t move, but I grab a nearby stick and my breath immediately lengthens as I slip my dress above my knees, keeping myself propped up as possible, arching my back.
Just seeing him in that mask, knowing two of them are blended together under one…
I don’t need the moisture of the rain to slide the stick inside me—he already has me dripping wet. I slide my panties down one leg and close my eyes, slipping the edge of the stick inside me.
The pressure immediately subsides . I’m so sexually frustrated, like nothing in this world can satisfy me. I let out a moan as I work it a few inches deeper, but I don’t take my eyes off him. His expression is neutral, as to be expected in that hideous mask of insidiousness, as I slide this stick further inside me.
My phone pings, and I glance down at it.
His voice rises from the phone. “Harder, pretty girl. I want you to fuck yourself so hard, you sever your body.”
I push the stick fast, its edges tearing me, but I don’t care. I push it in, harder and faster—dirtier—giving him the show he wants.
The fact he’s the most dangerous man alive only makes me wetter, hornier, hotter. The build up starts to ease as my orgasm builds and the stick is much wetter than it should be because of how much juice is flowing out of me.
Keeping my one hand on the stick, I close my eyes and let the orgasm be what it is…pretending that I’m fucking him instead.
I open my eyes as my orgasm blooms, the heat building within warms me up. I keep fucking myself as he stands across the lawn by a large tree, watching me.
I bring the phone to my mouth. “How long are we going to play this game, Mikael?”
He tilts his head and doesn’t respond. But it was enough of a response…he reacted to the name.
Mikael.
The line goes quiet.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I pushed him too hard. I’m being too needy. A group of students pass by, and I quickly pull the stick out of myself and hug my knees to my chest, tossing the stick and the phone a few feet away from me. My mouth is like chalk as they walk by me, and I try to hide my shaking as they stare at me awkwardly.
When I look back at him, he’s gone.
I stay on the grassy lawn until the sky darkens and eventually opens up, utterly still. My body’s in shock. The rain smothers me, but I don’t move; I don’t find anywhere to go, and eventually, the rain subsides and whatever water is left hitting my face is dripping from the trees above.
A heavy mist settles in the air—one that matches my current dreary mood. This isn’t how I thought my dating life at Kinsmen University would go. He’s testing me, I realize. He’s seeing how far I’d go for him.
Anger seeps into every bone as I glare at the stick a few feet away from me, thinking about what I just did with it. Again… My pussy is still bleeding with shame.
I crawl over it and somehow muster enough strength to snap it in two and whip the pieces across the small meadow in which I lay. I pick up my soaking wet backpack, thankful my books are still dry inside.
My phone dings, bringing me back from the inferno in my mind, and I crawl over the wet, frozen grass to answer it.
It’s Dani. And I’ve missed three calls from her.
I fumble in the dark until I’m able to swipe my fingers, my hand numb.
“Hello?” I barely recognize the voice that rasps out of me.
The numbness in my bones isn’t from the frozen water—I experienced it even before the heavens opened up on me. It’s because I can barely feel anything anymore unless I’m with him.
“Where the fuck are you?” Dani sounds composed as usual.
I rise and pull my backpack on and rub my arms. “I’m still at school,” I tell her and run my hands over the goosebumps prickling my flesh. I scarcely know what it’s like to be in my own skin, and when I take a careful step forward, it’s like my body isn’t my own. It’s like each step is controlled by someone else. He seems to control my thoughts, my movements, my soul. Every minute I don’t run to the police, his darkness takes over to the point I can almost taste it. Except the taste of his darkness is so fucking sweet.
“Well, get home. We’re going out. It’s Friday night, and we’ve been invited to a party.”
I check the time and frown. Somehow, it’s already seven PM, but I swear, when he called me earlier, it was only six PM. I’m not sure where the last hour has gone. The campus is empty, eerily quiet, like the cocoon that is my mind. I must have sat here in a trance for longer than I thought.
“Fine,” I mutter as my teeth chatter. I don’t have the energy to argue.
“Do you need a ride?” she asks.
I scan the dark, empty campus, half-expecting to see a burlap mask. The lights in the windows are all twinkled out. The whispers of the fallen, the ghosts of this town, tickle my ear.
“No. I’ll walk. Give me twenty minutes, and I’ll be home.”
“Okay. Suit yourself. Be careful. Love you, bye.”
I walk through the stone pathway to the tree-lined road that leads to town. The wind is still howling from the passing storm, and in the distance, the moon lights up the sky.
“Wait…Dani?” I ask her before she hangs up.
“Yeah, what’s up?”
“What party are we going to?”
“Not sure. A mysterious invitation showed up on our doorstep. And before you say anything about it, yes, we’re going. I suspect it’s Xander’s house, and I’m desperate to see if it was him at the rave dancing with me. Don’t tell anyone, but I have a feeling it’s them.”
My stomach twists. “Who?”
Dani sighs. “The Order, Summer. I think they are connected to all of it. I have a strong suspicion they are involved in my father’s conviction.”
I trip on a rock and steady myself. “Why do you think that?”
“Just a gut feeling, but I need to get into that house to be sure.”