𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐲

Chapter 87

TW: graphic abuse, paranoia, morbid content, sacrilegious behavior; nervous breakdown? attempted murder? long chapter?

— Chapter 87 —
Our Graves

=||=||=

E L L I O T

I sat in a blanket of eerie silence.

My unsteady fingers gingerly adjusted the delicate papers that I'd spread across the chipped coffee table. Darkness enshrouded the space, tucking shadows into the wallpaper. Sitting on the edge of the lumpy sofa, I tapped heel-and-toe on the floor, inhaling in slow and fearful breaths.

Waiting.

My heart lurched into my mouth when I heard a stomp hit the floor in a bedroom across the house.

He's awake.

It didn't surprise me. I'd made more than enough of my fair share of noise in the process of breaking in. The shattered glass beneath the window at the door was proof enough.

Heavy footfalls moved step-by-step across creaky timber. Every bone in my body tensed as the sound grew closer. My teeth jittered; my stomach shot itself up into my ribs. Although I couldn't see him, I knew he was coming. I knew there was no going back.

Baseball bat.

I saw that first. Long, slender, and scarred by the remains of old stickers, it looked like a twig in the arms of my brutish father. He was the bigger threat, eyes roaring like a savage ocean in a violent storm. They squinted into a scowl that pierced through the darkness like a newly-sharpened blade.

"Have you completely lost your damn mind?" he snarled at me, gripping the bat taut. "What the fuck do you think you're doing in my house?"

Our house. It was our house.

Trudging out of the hallway and invading the space of the living room, my father turned on one of the lights. The old kitchen light, yellow and dim, which blinked weakly—if only to prove that something in this house still worked. That not everything here was completely broken.

"Jesus Christ," Malcom hissed. "You smashed the window, too, didn't you? That's how you got in?"

Bat at the ready, he moved a step in my direction.

Swallowing the terror that was dripping down the back of my throat, I reached towards my pants, knowing that every movement I made was being closely scrutinized. My grip found purchase around the cool metal of a gun. My father's eyes widened as I placed the weapon on the table with a light thud. The gesture was a grim warning.

"Where did you get that?" he asked.

Staying quiet, my thoughts vividly blinked to earlier in the night. After the beach, Riven had given me a ride home. With Han's words weighing heavy on my mind, I trashed Noah's apartment in the search for Blitz, distraught and slightly hysterical. I found nothing, except for a gun patiently waiting for me in the bottom drawer of his dresser.

I made a choice when I picked it up.

I decided that tonight, I was finally going to uncover the truth for myself.

And that I wasn't going to let anyone stop me.

"What is all this?" my father probed again, gesturing to the mess of papers littering his living room.

My lips drew in a calming breath.

"Patient 0-2-4-F," I finally spoke, reading from one of the ink-stained pages that Han had given me. "Forty-two-year-old female, blood type O+. Most promising of all patients."