too frozen to move or to think, caught by the monster in Shadow’s face. I always said he was one, but now, I get the proof first hand.
There are no feelings on his features.
He slaughtered someone without even blinking. His eyes might as well be black holes.
No life.
No remorse.
No… nothing.
This isn’t his first kill. And it’s probably not his last.
He’s a killer. Mum’s voice rings in my head like a haunting squeak. Killers can only kill. He’ll ruin us both, Zoe.
Run.
A ringing buzzes in my ears in a long, deep shrill. Sweat trickles down my rigid back. My throat closes and so do my lungs.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t breathe.
Panic surges to the front of my mind. I try to take calming breaths. To think of something happier.
It doesn’t work.
I didn’t even feel this way when that man was holding a knife to my neck.
He’s now dead. Because Shadow killed him.
I screw my eyes shut, not wanting to look at his monstrous form.
That doesn’t stop the panic attack. My skin prickles as if being drenched in lava. The books must’ve dropped from my arms because I register the thud. I fall back, my bottom hitting the asphalt. Abhorrent memories flash behind my lids.
Blurry images.
Distorted voices.
Mismatched colours of black and white.
Forceful hands shove me away, saving me. My mum. She saved me while my father wanted to asphyxiate us.
He’s a killer, Zoe. He kills children like you in Afghanistan.
Your father is a rapist and a murderer.
Don’t come near!
I love you, petal.
Small hands reach for her. My hands. I taste the salt of my tears. “Mummy…”
Stay away!
Run, Zoe. Run!
“Zoe!”
My eyes snap open with a gasp. The view in front of me is worse than those disordered memories. Shadow is crouching and clutching my shoulders as if he were shaking me. His shirt is sticking to his chest with blood and his face is splashed in red. He’s like a demon who came out to play.
A murderer. Just like my father.
“Don’t touch me!” My voice is hysterical as I jerk up and wiggle free. Thankfully, he lets me go.
“What’s wrong with you?” His brows furrow.
All I see is my dad’s face. His brows also furrowed every time he talked to my mother. He never liked talking to her. Then, he had enough talking and killed her.
I always wanted to forget my dad, but now that I look closer, he also had Shadow’s eyes. That stormy, frightening colour is the same.
Even his dark blond hair with the slightest curls is the same.
He’s the same.
“Murderer!” I shout, tears streaming down my face. “Killer! Monster!”
He runs a hand through his blood-soaked hair. “Fuck this. I just saved you.”
“So you would kill me!” I hit his chest over and over.
Images of Mum’s dead eyes stab my mind and I can only imagine myself as her.
No matter what I do, I’ll always be her.
“Enough!” Shadow grabs both my hands in his and softens his voice. “Calm down, Zoe.”
I continue hitting him with blows as sporadic and chaotic as I feel.
He accepts my blows, over and over. Then he clutches my shoulders firmly, but also gently. His voice is soothing. “Breathe, Zoe. You need to calm down.”
Dad said those same words before to Mum. You need to calm down, Renee. Stop being hysterical, Renee.
Then he killed her.
I kick him fast and hard. Once he releases me, I don’t think.
I run.
Far away from that monster.
Far away from being another version of Mum.
Chapter Fifteen
I end up in Le Salon.
I sit in Mist’s office, shaking and with blood all over me. She came to mind as the only person who can help me.
There’s no way I’ll get Liam or Elle involved in this. I have no doubt that Shadow won’t hesitate to hurt them to get to me. I’d rather die than expose them to any type of danger.
Mist sits across from me instead of her usual position behind her desk. She’s wearing an elegant, navy blue dress. Her dark red hair is gathered in a French twist that accentuates her high cheekbones.
She offers me wet wipes and waits patiently while I scrub off my face and hands. I’m still trembling all over, but I need this blood off me.
The sound of that man’s gurgles still echoes in my ears like a haunting ghost. It takes everything in me not to break down in tears.
“What did he do?” Mist asks softly but firmly. She obviously doesn’t want to push me, but she also needs answers.
That’s what we were taught to do in psychological