The Mindf*ck Series

Chapter 7

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘭 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘚𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦.
- 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘮 𝘚𝘩𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘦

𝗟𝗔𝗡𝗔

In one week, I’ve marked off two names from my list. We’re getting closer.

Jake is sweating bullets.

I’ve sped up the timeline and started hiding the bodies. I’ve changed my MO. I’ve also started adding the nails, something I hadn’t planned to do until later in the game.

My wax apple also has a lot more nails to mark the new debts I’ve collected, but we’ve moved my murder room to Jake’s house.

The media are no longer interested in me since Craig delivered the profile of the Scarlet Slayer. Yes, the media named me. Somehow, Jake got me the name he wanted.

It’s ironic the media lost interest in the hero side of me in favor of the dark side of me. Just goes to show how twisted and ugly this world can be.

“I hate how fast you’re cruising through the names,” Jake grumbles as I mark off the latest victim’s name.

“Two in a week isn’t too fast. I wanted to drag it out, but I’m sick of this. I’m ready for it to be over.”

“Because of Logan?” he asks, studying me from his seat.

“Yes and no. I’m tired of being tied to the past and unable to let it go. Aren’t you?"

He leans up, perching his elbows on the rails of the chair. “Tell me something, Lana, what do you think happens when this is all over—if we even survive it. Do you think he doesn’t find out? Do you ride off into the sunset—the agent and the killer? I want to know what you think for real. I’m good with ending this where we are, and moving on the best we can. I think that’s the only way you’re going to be able to keep him, if that’s your true endgame.”

My lip trembles, and I clear my throat. “Stopping now would be wrong. Marcus and Dad…they’re still dead and haunted by the way they died.”

He leans back, his eyes on me. “Sometimes I think I feel Marcus. I think he’s right here beside us, keeping us from being discovered. Other times I realize it’s ridiculous, and that our luck will eventually run out.”

“Do you want to stop?” I ask quietly, sitting down on the edge of his desk.

“Honestly? No. I want to kill them all for what they did. I want them to suffer. But it’s not fair for me to expect that from you when you seem to finally be healing. And it’s because of Logan you’re healing. He gave you back something you lost.”

“What?” I ask as he moves to the other side of the room, grabbing a drink from the mini-fridge.

“Your heart,” he tells me, looking at me with sadness in his eyes.

“You could move on,” I tell him, shrugging. “Marcus would want that.”

“I’ll stick to my torrid affairs with no emotional connection for now,” he answers with a brittle grin.