Page 256 of Boys Who Hunt

“I know.”

I grind my teeth. “I wanted to throw those darts too.”

“I know that too, but we also know what you like to do with sharp objects.”

I lower my eyes.

“You’re just a little … different. And that’s okay.”

Is it?

Or are they just saying that because they don’t know what it’s like to feel nothing but the instinct to kill?

Mom presses the flower into my chest. “Hold onto it. One day, you will feel what it means. And then you can give it to a girl and make her happy.”

She smiles, but it doesn’t make me smile.

Neither does the plastic flower I’m forced to hold onto for the rest of our time at the fair, wondering if she just picked it so she could give it to me.

To try and get me to feel something.

Anything.

When we’re finally home, I sit on my bed and stare at the box on the floor. The one Mom once gave me to store away memories I want to keep forever.

The plastic flower in my hands feels so goddamn meaningless.

So goddamn worthless.

Love.

Like I will ever understand what it means.

I throw the flower into the box and lock it, then shove it under my bed, groaning impatiently as I cross my arms.

Fuck love.

I don’t know what it is, and I will never,everneed it. Especially not from some girl.

That flower will stay in its prison, rotting away for eternity.

Ivy

Present

I pickup the letter and read the words.

I was right. You are a thief.

But you were right too. You needed it more than I did.

So I’ve made sure that all the money Stefano kept in his bank that he tried to take to the grave was put in your name instead. Along with all the funds in my bank account.

All of it belongs to you now.

Every dollar. Every dime. Yours to spend as you see fit.

I tryto read as fast as I can, but my heart is racing.