Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 143453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 717(@200wpm)___ 574(@250wpm)___ 478(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 143453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 717(@200wpm)___ 574(@250wpm)___ 478(@300wpm)
That was obviously his warning to make me stay away, so why the hell am I even more intrigued with him now?
Just what does a twenty-year-old consider deviant and twisted?
I guess there’s only one way to find out.
4
CREIGHTON
There’s no such thing as being too young to remember.
I was three years old when my life was turned upside down. Blood splattered, monsters’ fangs showed, and I was caught between them, having the sole destiny to be crushed to death.
I was three years old, and I still remember every vicious word, every hateful stare and can still hear the gurgle of life leaving a body. I still have nightmares about a body hanging from the ceiling and looking at me with unblinking, bulging eyes.
I haven’t been the same since.
Yes, I was adopted by a loving yet unconventional family and have the best parents alive, but that never managed to make me forget the past.
Thing is, some images just can’t be erased.
Some images bleed into my subconscious and devour me from the inside out. Every night.
Every day.
Every second.
It’s not just a distant memory; it’s part of who I am.
I’ve ignored it all my life, tried to cope with it, to come to terms with the past, and to blend myself into my current life.
I’ve truly tried. My honest attempts have included doing everything by the book, following the therapist's coping mechanisms, and learning to lead a normal life.
But I’m not normal.
And coping is never enough. And neither is convincing myself that time will make it better.
Seventeen years later and the images are still as vivid as back then, with their gruesome details and those bulging fucking eyes.
I learned to stop asking my parents about the past—not only do they avoid the subject like the plague, but Mum also gets this sad look in her eyes. The one where it feels as if I’m ripping her chest open and punching her fragile heart.
Luckily, I’m old enough now to pull the strings on my own.
Even if it means abandoning everything I’ve known for the seventeen years since the massacre.
That’s what I’ve always called it in my head, even though only two people died. Make that three—including the three-year-old version of me.
He suffered the most, despite the fact that death chose to exempt him.
The time has come to finally do something about those hideous memories.
In the past, I couldn’t be proactive due to living under my parents’ roof and being under their constant scrutiny.
However, I’m at university now and I have enough freedom to seek the truth. The only barrier is the personification of my parents’ hawk eyes—my annoying older brother, Eli.
As circumstances would have it, I know exactly the information to feed him so he’ll remain preoccupied and leave me the fuck alone.
Because something changed recently.
I got a piece of information that flipped my perspective upside down.
It’s not anything groundbreaking, but it’s the tip of the iceberg—a little clue that will allow me to dig deeper.
This time, I won’t stop until I unveil the whole truth.
“The arson didn’t do much damage. I’m a little disappointed.”
I slide my hand from my face to stare up at my cousin—second cousin—who’s perched over my bed.
Landon is three years older than me and has the looks of a refined prince and the character of the devil himself.
Or more like Lucifer—the one who controls demons and every obscure creature.
His brown hair falls in a chaotic mess over his forehead, highlighting angular features that are no different from the stones he’s obsessed with sculpting. He’s even doing an art master’s degree to be able to produce more stones that people weirdly call masterpieces while labeling him a genius.
Anarchist would fit him better.
Since I’m trying to sleep, I turn on my side and close my eyes again.
A creak comes from the chair beside the bed, indicating that Landon chose to stay, not caring about my clear ‘Fuck off.’
“It could’ve been much better. What a loss of potential.”
“And you could’ve left so I can sleep.”
Landon pffts, a light chuckle spilling from him before he kicks my back. “Wake up. There are better things to do than sleep.”
“Doubt it.”
“What if I say I have the second piece of the puzzle for you?”
My eyes open and I slowly turn around.
Landon grins, knowing full well he’s got me exactly where he wants me. “Happy to have your attention, baby cousin. Now, let’s go.”
Staring at him harshly, I don’t move, and he rolls his eyes dramatically. “Your habit of trying to communicate with your eyes is annoying as fuck. Not all people are good with that language and they could—and will—misunderstand you. Lucky for you, I’m proficient in all languages. To answer your less-than-subtle demand, no. There will be no piece of the puzzle for you unless I get something in return. That was the deal, remember?”
So this is the downside behind my master plan of collecting information about my past. Somehow, Landon got wind of that and he’s using it to make me do his bidding.