“As I said, never say never.” His eyes hold mine hostage for a second, two, and I swear I’m going to catch fire by the third. “How about I prove that I keep my word?”
“How the hell would you do that?”
“I’ll win this upcoming match for you.”
“Oh, so you’ll beat up Creigh—who happens to be my cousin—to prove a point. What a classicyoumove.”
“I’ll lose it then,” he says without blinking. “I’ll get beaten up to prove a point.”
My lips fall open, but I quickly recuperate. “I don’t want that.”
“That’s what you’ll get.” He brushes my hair again. “And you’ll watch every moment of it, baby. If you dare leave, I’ll send that cousin of yours into a coma.”
“You…wouldn’t.”
“Try me.”
“Why the hell are you doing all of this? Are you…insane?”
“Maybe. After all, insanity, evil, and ruthlessness are boundless and lawless. I’d rather be insane than an ordinary fool.” He leans over and my heart stops beating for a fraction of a second as he kisses the top of my head slowly, gently. “Wait for me, baby.”
And then his touch is gone, and so are the remnants of my fragile sanity.
I can only watch as he rushes through the crowd and heads to the middle of the ring.
8
GLYNDON
This is crazy.
He’s crazy.
I've been well aware of that fact since the first time I met him, but I’m one hundred percent sure now. There’s no doubt about his psychosis.
My fingers clench and I slide them against my shorts, then fish out my phone and tap the number called ‘Emergency.’
It rings once. Twice.
And then he picks up with a half-sleeping voice. “Hello? Glyndon?” The older male voice speaks with its usual warmth. “Are you there?”
“Um, yeah. Sorry if I woke you up.”
“No, I was just watching TV and dozed off. Where are you? It sounds noisy.”
“I’m outside with friends.” I kick an imaginary pebble. “It’s coming back, Dr. Ferrell. I can’t… I can’t control it anymore.”
“That’s okay. Breathe.” His voice sobers up, sounding soothing like that first time Mum took me to him at my request.
Ever since my early teens, I suffered with a huge inferiority complex and I couldn’t survive in our household without the need to do something nefarious.
It didn’t matter how much my parents tried to talk to me, I always found a way to escape into my own head and block them out.
Which is where Dr. Ferrell came in. I was too hesitant to talk to my family, but I could pour my heart out to a professional. He taught me how to recognize when I’m overwhelmed, to talk about it instead of burying it, to paint it instead of letting it rip me from the inside out.
But I don’t have my brush and canvas now, so I could only call him. This late. Like a creep.
“What made it come back?” he asks after a moment.