Chapter 38 Monroe
MONROE
Five Months Prior to Present Day,
Early April, Junior Year,
Sigma
“What are you doing?” I ask in horror as Kieren retrieves a chain from his closet. I’ve played the good girl all day. I’ve pretended not to hate him. I’ve stayed put, done everything he asked.
“What does it look like?”
“Stop, Kieren!”
“Hold still,” he growls, yanking my ankle forward.
“You literally lock us in here at night! You don’t need to chain me to the bed as well! What if I need to use the bathroom?”
“The chain is long enough. It’ll reach.”
I gawk at the hollow monster who now inhabits the deteriorating physique of the boy I foolishly fell back in love with at the beginning of the semester – the healthy-looking boy who convinced me he was in recovery and trying to be better.
And while the dark circles under his eyes and haunted expression conjure memories of the addict he was one year ago, this is a different kind of evil.
This is worse than addiction. This is madness.
I’m convinced he’s suffered a psychotic break, unable to discern reality from the insanity whirling inside his mind.
“You’re sick, Kieren. You’re sick and you need help!”
“Fight me and I’ll remind you that there’s a bullet in this room with your name on it.”
“You’re disgusting, and I hate you!” I seethe, forgetting myself, forgetting the unstable psychopath who sleeps next to me in this bed.
The cuff around my ankle clicks as Kieren tightens it closed.
“As I’ve already told you, I don’t give a fuck, now lie down.”
“If you think I’m spreading my legs for you, you’re sorely mistaken.”
Kieren’s huffed laugh mocks my defiance. “I don’t want your pussy, Monroe. I’ll get it soon enough, anyway. Now lie down or I’ll put you in the fucking cage. Is that what you want?”
My chest heaves with fury. “One day,” I manage through gritted teeth, “you will regret this.”
“And one day,” Kieren adds apathetically, “you’ll be dead.”