Page 64 of I Will Break You
“Friends, parents…lover?”
“No.” Why the hell does he keep asking me that?
He sighs. “Book a hotel. Whoever killed Mr. Wright will probably return to finish you.”
I want to roll my eyes at this outlandish suggestion. Who has hotel money in this economy? With the creator fund no longer supporting my lifestyle, I don’t know how I’m going to pay the bills.
Actually, I do. If I call Mom and Dad, they’ll gladly transferany amount of money to keep me on the other side of town. Their rejection doesn’t just sting—it’s a gaping wound.
“Can the police provide protective custody?” I ask.
“I’ll double the patrols down Parisii Drive,” he mutters, ignoring my request. “Speak to your neighbors to see if any unusual characters have been hanging around. Keep your windows closed and don’t open the door to strangers.”
Later, I descend the stairs to find a forensic team piling in through the front door. A homicide detective takes me to Relaney’s kitchen to make a statement. With Xero’s warning not to speak to the cops, I regurgitate a more polished version of the bullshit I told Officer Vayne.
As I’m about to leave the house, Relaney steps into my path and stares down at me through bloodshot eyes. “Chappy was only responding to your advances. He didn’t have to die.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You were flirting with him the entire night and the time before. If you didn’t want him in your room, you should have said no.”
My jaw drops. How the hell did she know Chappy was trying to hook up with me? Did she arrange it in an attempt to lure me into her stupid cult? I glance over my shoulder to see if any of the people in white jumpsuits overheard her accusation. They’re all too busy collecting evidence to notice the ramblings of a grief-stricken woman.
Leaning into her, I whisper, “I didn’t hang Chappy, and I sure as hell didn’t invite him into my room.”
“But you control the spirits,” she whispers back. “Mark my words, Amethyst Crowley, you may command the dark, but one day you will be consumed.”
Cold seeps into my bones, turning my blood to sludge. She doesn’t know what she’s saying. I’m no killer, nor do I consort with evil spirits.
Well, not on purpose. Fuck. When did I start lying to myself? I was slapping my own tits and coming at Xero’s command moments before I found Chappy hanging. And technically, I am a killer. Even if I did have a good reason.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur.
She gestures at the open door. “Get out of my sight.”
I step out into the chilly morning. “One more thing.”
“What?” she snaps.
“How do I get rid of a ghost?”
“Google is your friend.” She slams the door.
When I turn around, Parisii Drive is jammed with cop cars. Every resident either stands in their open doorways or gapes at me from their windows. My skin itches from the intensity of their stares. When a pair of men in black suits exit a car at the end of the road, I duck my head and scurry back to number 13.
The discomfort only accelerates when the door closes behind me, and I’m trapped in my haunted house.
Xero told me to take a shower and wait for him in bed. The thought of him emerging from the shadows to finish me off with that thick, silicone dildo makes my pussy throb.
This is insanity. A man just got murdered, and my body is thrumming with desire. It’s just like Dr. Saint said. I have violence-induced arousal because the wires of my libido are jumbled. Even so, I can’t have a relationship with a vengeful spirit.
I refuse to be the puppet to his perverted proclivities. There’s so much more at stake here than my dignity. If I continue along this path, I might lose my sanity, my very soul. Mom might find out I’m communing with the dead and carry out her threat to have me institutionalized.
Shudders travel across my skin, reminding me that I’m still covered in shit. Before I know it, I’m tearing through the hallway, into the kitchen, and washing off the plaster with my wet fingers.
Xero’s invisible presence looms over me like a noose of Damocles, and an invisible chill sweeps down my spine. His malevolent gaze bores into the back of my head, but I refuse to turn around and meet those glowing eyes.
I have to remind myself that ghosts are powerless in the light. It’s morning, and no longer dark. Until nightfall, I’m safe from his grasp. After that, all I need to do is keep my bedroom bright.