Page 48 of The Art of Being a Psychopath

At that moment, another car came down the road and stopped behind where Alex had parked. The street was narrow, and the car couldn’t get past, so the driver began to sound his horn.

“Emma, please,” Alex begged. “Just get in the car. I’m not gonna hurt you. I can see you’re upset, and I want to help.” He stood still, watching me, ignoring the other car, that was still blaring it’s horn, as he waited for me to respond.

“I can call an uber,” I stated, and he threw his head back and groaned.

“Like fuck you will. I’m not leaving you here to get into an Uber. Not when you’re like this.” He took a deep breath, and in a softer voice, he added, “You’re gonna make yourself ill if you stay out here any longer. I’m worried about you, Emma. Please, just get in the car and let me take you somewhere safe and warm.”

“You don’t have to worry about me,” I replied, that petulant child inside me still digging her heels in. “I can look after myself. I don’t need you to take me anywhere.”

He growled, gritting his teeth as he hissed, “I am seconds away from throwing you over my shoulder and bundling you into my damn car, whether you like it or not. Either that, or we’re both gonna be stuck here in the rain all day arguing, and that guy...” He pointed to the car behind his that was still protesting furiously with his horn. “Isn’t going anywhere either. Because I’m not leaving you. I’m going nowhere.”

Another car pulled up behind the first one, and the driver stuck his head out of his window, shouting, “What’s the hold up, mate?”

Alex ignored them both and stared at me, waiting.

And that’s when I saw him.

Standing a short distance down the street on the opposite side to us, leaning against a wall.

He was wearing a dark hoody, that was pulled low to hide his face. And when he saw that I’d noticed him, he put his hands together in the shape of a heart.

It was him.

It had to be.

Who else would make that symbol?

Fucking S.K.A.M.

Panic took over then, and I started to pant as I felt the street closing in around me.

He was here.

I wasn’t safe.

He’d found me.

Seeing that I’d started to hyperventilate right in front of him, Alex took my face in his hands, and pleaded with me, “Calm down, Emma. Just breathe. You’re okay. I promise. I’m right here.” And he started to pant with me, to try and help regulate my breathing.

I stared into his eyes, as his breaths matched mine. Right now, this gorgeous man in front of me was the anchor preventing me from falling off the edge of the world into total and utter oblivion.

He’d appeared out of nowhere, like a saviour in a Bentley, wearing a designer suit.

And he could get me out of here.

I needed to get out of here.

“Fine. I’ll get in the car,” I gasped, still struggling to breathe, and he pressed his forehead against mine, making sparks ignite in my belly despite my unbridled fear.

“Thank fuck for that,” he said in exasperated relief.

His gentle, minty breathes kissed my skin, making me close my eyes for just a second and revel in the feeling of calm he evoked in me.

Slowly, he let his hands fall away, but his eyes stayed on mine for a second longer, as if he wanted to say something else, but then he turned to open the passenger door, and the moment was gone.

Feeling the fear slowly swell inside me again, I glanced down the street, but S.K.A.M. wasn’t there anymore. My nerves were still shredded, though. My skin crawling like a million insects were trying to burrow under it as I climbed into the security of Alex’s car. And when he closed the door, those insects fell away.

S.K.A.M. couldn’t get to me now.