Chapter 7

Muse.

The past three days have been a complete torture to me, worse than when I was kept in Newman’s basement in Tulum, being starved of food and water while he molds me into his perfect, little weapon of destruction.

I’d have preferred that physical torture to this mental one. I’ve not been able to sleep due to the constant, jarring nightmares. I keep seeing their faces– the people whose lives I took.

Although I shouldn’t feel so guilty about my first kill. It was an act of self-defense, but my mind doesn’t agree with me. It paints the picture clearly.

I thought I had gotten over that first kill after the therapy I did, but that sort of thing doesn’t just go away. It lurks in the dark recesses of my head and resurfaces every once in a while to remind me that I’m a murderer.

No, James and mother didn’t know I was still battling that demon after two years. I hid it so well from them, pretending I’m normal again.

Well, Jules’s death is another reminder that I’m not as innocent as I portray myself to be. I’m guessing Newman saw it- the darkness in my soul, hence his choosing me to come here and destroy a life.

I’m hanging by a thread. I don’t know how long it’ll take before I snap. It’s worse now I have no one here to hold me. Christ, I miss mama. Maybe she’d have talked to me. She’d have held my hand and reminded me that I did what every girl in my position would have done.

But she isn’t here. James isn’t here. He’s gone forever.

I’m all alone again like I used to be. And it hurts.

I’m grateful Marina isn’t around to see me break down like I am now. She has not returned to the dorm since her brother’s demise. She’s mourning, I know, and as much as I want to go to her and console her, I can’t.

I can’t stand the guilt. I’m afraid that if I see her, I might spill the truth.

I should wait for her return. Hopefully, she does. Hopefully, Newman frees my family and me.

I was hoping that now everything’s done and Jules is out of the picture, that he’ll get me out of here; unfortunately, he hasn’t.

I haven’t been able to reach him either. All my calls have been sent to voicemails. I’m anxious, afraid he’ll not keep to his end of the bargain.

Is he planning on keeping me here forever? No, I’m definitely going to lose my mind. I can’t stay here.

My body quivers as I walk up the dorm stairs to my room. I open the door, and the silent room greets me. I just returned from the rink. Unfortunately, I still need to keep working until Newman gets me out of here.

I flop on my bed and look at the dark sky through the window. Unbidden, images of my encounter with Jules rush through my mind. His warmth, his charming smile. His touch.

I remember the way he stared at me on the ice. Marina’s words circle my head. I made it to his books, she’d said. Ironically, he’s the one who made it to my book, or rather Newman’s.

I can’t believe I have wasted a talent like his. This moment, just like what I did two years ago, will live with me forever.

I went ‘boy sober’ because I was afraid that that horror might repeat itself again, and who knows how I’ll handle it this time?

My eyes drift closed, and I let the event that plunged me into this ‘hole’ reel through my head.

*Past*

It’s been two months since I graduated from high school, and James got me a job in a hotel ten minutes’ walk from our house.

I was so excited about the job. I wanted to save enough money for college before my admission letter arrived. Of course, I was confident I’d get in. My high school grades were excellent.

I worked as an in-room service attendant for three months until everything fell apart.

While I was serving one of the guests, the man cornered me. I’d heard stories about hotel staff being assaulted. I just never thought I’d add to the statistics.

I couldn’t call for help. Not while he had me pinned to the bed and the room soundproofed. Dread settled like lead in my stomach as the stranger ripped my shirt apart, my frantic struggles doing nothing to stop him.

His bloodshot eyes and manic grin told me he was high on something. There was no way out. As he reached for the zipper of his jeans, his car keys slipped from his pocket and clattered onto the bed.

I secretly held it with trembling hands while he loomed over me.

Just as the stranger reached for my jeans, I made my move. I lunged when he least expected it, driving a key straight to his jugular.

Blood sprayed across my face. The shock of it made him recoil, giving me the opening I needed. I shoved him off and scrambled to my feet.

The man went hysterical, roaring in pain and hurling curses at me while I stared, wide-eyed in shock, at the blood.

I just stabbed him.

The key slipped from my trembling fingers, clattering against the marble floor.

He lunged at me while I stood frozen, slamming me onto the floor. That’s when my survival instincts finally took over. Adrenaline and trepidation surged through my veins, drowning out everything else.

Panic consumed me as he slammed his fist into my face. My vision blurred, stars bursting behind my eyes. Before I could recover, his hands clamped around my throat, squeezing the air from my lungs. I was seconds away from being choked to death.

His bloodshot eyes shone with victory while I struggled to reach for something, anything that could save me from him.

I stretched my hand enough to reach the phone charger on the wall, and as I grabbed hold of it, I sank the metal prongs in his eye. Again and again until I was soaked with his blood.

His roar rippled through the soundproofed room, muffling my hysterical whimpers.

Black rage consumed my vision, and I grabbed a flower vase while ducking his wild, desperate swings as he blindly tried to grab me and smash it over his head.

I didn’t stop until he crumpled to the floor.

I watched blood pool around him, and that’s when my survival instincts gave way. Terror crashed over me. My blood-soaked lips wobbling.

I dropped to my knees beside him and checked his pulse, and he wasn’t breathing.

“He’s dead,” I whispered.

I didn’t mean to do it. My breath caught in my chest as I stared at the dead body.

I’d go to jail. If anyone found out I killed him, I’d go to jail.

With a burst of nerves, I reached for the man’s phone and called James. He’s the only one who can help me.

“Hey, M, calm down and tell me what happened?” He coos over the phone when he noticed I was spiraling.

And I told him. Everything.

“M, wash off and leave the room right away. Make sure no one sees. I’ll be right there.”

“Please, come faster. I really need you; I’m losing my mind right now.” I cried, pacing the length of the room.

“M, be calm. I’ll be right there. Don’t let anyone suspect you. Don’t give them reasons to question you, understand?”

I nodded even though he couldn’t see me. James works in a cleaning company as far as I know, so he’s the only one who can help me.

I did as he’d said. I cleaned up and left the room, hoping no one noticed anything fishy.

James arrived as he’d promised, and we sneaked into the room. By the time we got there, the corpse wasn’t there anymore and everywhere was clean. Pristine.

“Are you sure you…did that, M? Killed a man?”

My stomach plummeted as I stared bizarrely at the floor, hyperventilating. “I did. He was…right there. He tried to…” I couldn’t get the word out as tears and utter fear for my life enveloped me.

I couldn’t have imagined. It was completely real. Everything was real. But how on earth did the man disappear?

“Someone might have…come in before we did.” Was James’ only conclusion. He marched to the window, probably looking out for the cops. “Don’t see any cops around. There are no cameras here either.”

“They will come for me. I’d be going to jail.” I whispered in tears while the man I’ve come to know as my father held me tight against him.

“We’re not sure, M. But I need you to keep this a secret. No one except your mother and me has to know. I’ll find a way to fix this.”

I did what I was told to do. I kept it a secret, but every minute, I looked over my shoulder, thinking they’ll come for them. The authorities. Or whoever knows the stranger.

_Present_

Karma will come for me one day. That’s what my mind keeps telling me. I don’t know when, but it will. And when that day comes, I’m terrified of facing it.

I push myself up from the bed, swiping the backs of my hands across my cheeks. After changing into a spaghetti-strap top and a pair of pajama shorts, I settle in front of the dresser. The moment I look into the mirror, the mark Jules left on my neck stares back at me.

For some reason, I haven’t gotten rid of it. But I can’t look at it anymore without thinking of him, and of what I did.

I open the drawer and reach for the isopropyl alcohol I have with me, drizzle it into a washcloth, and start to wipe the autograph.

I let out a breath when it’s off and stare at myself one last time before getting back in my bed.

I slip under the blanket and get my phone. I scroll through our family pictures in my gallery, remembering when we took them.

I play a video of Nila skiing from the last two winters. Her carefree laughter brings a watery smile onto my lips.

Christ, I miss them.

My thumb trembles on the screen when I decide to check Jules’ IG. I devour his pictures and videos while my belly knots.

I can’t seem to look away. It’s hard to do that when he looks like an angel.

My heart skips a beat when someone raps on the door. I jerk my eyes to it, wondering who it could be.

It’s definitely not Marina. She has a key to the room.

When the knock comes again, louder this time, I get off the bed and walk to the door.

I unlock the door and swing the knob.

As the door opens, my gaze collides with the warm brown eyes I’ve come to know so well in such a short time.

I let out a quiet gasp at the sight of the tall, lean Greek god leaning against the door, his arms crossed and a lazy smirk playing on his pink lips.

Jules Islander.