When someone dies mysteriously during a Psych experiment, Rhiannon becomes enmeshed in a conspiracy that includes both the survivors and the killer.
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Short on cash, Rhiannon...
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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CONFORMITY
( — change in one's behavior or belief in the direction shown by others. )
— ♡ —
RHIANNON IS PRETTY SURE SHE'S SECONDS AWAY FROM THROWING UP. With her phone now being stuffed in her cardigan's pocket, since she lacks the courage to do the right thing and call an ambulance, she's able to cover her mouth with her free hand. It also helps her to not scream, like Matteo advised she should do, but that's hard to do considering what's right at the bottom of the stairs.
It wasn't here when she went to bed and, though she doesn't dare to touch it, it must still be warm. That means nothing when she can already feel the putrid smell emanating from it, even if it's all just in her head and her sympathetic nervous system is simply playing tricks on her; it wants her to run away from this, which would be the smart thing to do, but she's frozen.
A sob escapes from her throat, fleeing through the spaces between her fingers, and Matteo takes a hesitant step forward, as if anything he could do could make this any bit better. He even reaches out a hand towards her to help her jump over the body, but she cowers against the wall.
"Don't touch me," she whispers. "Don't touch me."
"I have no idea who did this," he admits, never drawing back his hand, and she whimpers, unable to look away, as if there were flashing neon arrows surrounding it. Look at me! Look at me! "We're . . . we're in the living room. We—"
"Someone's dead, Matteo!" she snaps, hesitantly pulling herself up with the help of the railing, and Matteo's dark eyes glisten like the starry night sky. "I—you—I can't—how can you be so calm? This—"
"Rhea, please—"
She swings her legs over the railing, one at the time, and her foot slips when she hits the ground, even with the friction of the soles of her sneakers. Matteo tries to steady her fall, but she does it herself. When she looks up at him, someone who easily towers over everyone else, she can barely distinguish his facial features, with tears clouding her vision.
"Jude," Rhiannon blurts out.
"Rhiannon—"
"Where is he?"
"In the kitchen," Matteo quickly reveals, holding her shoulders with trembling hands when she tries to walk past him. "You need to be careful."
"Is he hurt? 'Teo, is he hurt?"
"Yes."
As if things tonight weren't already messy enough, this makes it even worse. Her heart instantly sinks, dropping down to her stomach, and she tries to break free from his hold to run her shaky fingers through her hair. Said heart, which can't possibly take more beating, is barely unable to keep pumping blood, covered in sheer terror and worry, and Rhiannon knows exactly how she could have prevented this from happening.
