Page 78 of The Art of Being a Psychopath

I’d always supported him through the good times and the bad, but what he’d done to Emma was a step too far. She needed me more than he did. I had a pattern to break, too. Enough was enough.

And so what if I had a saviour complex? Just looking at Emma made me want to wrap her up in my arms and protect her. I wanted to make her happy because she was crying out for that. From the first moment I’d met her, I could tell she was a girl who put on a brave face. The one that went unnoticed. But I noticed her. And I wanted her. Okay, maybe my methods were a little unconventional, following her, tracking her down in the street, but my intentions were honest. Really, they were.

I drove back to the house, turned the engine off, and stared up at the house. Desperation to be in her orbit overtook any rational thoughts I had. It clawed at me like a need I couldn’t seem to fulfil. I’d appeased the beast inside me for so long it was becoming increasingly difficult to sate him. But I had to. There was no other way.

I got out of the car and took the steps to the front door two at a time. Once inside, I headed up the stairs and down the corridor towards the bedroom she’d chosen to sleep in. My mother used to call it the lily room. She’d furnished the whole thing in that style, clean and white with delicate lilies painted on the walls and the furniture. It was one of the few rooms here that’d stayed relatively untouched since my parent’s passing. And it was the bedroom directly opposite to my own. Emma didn’t know that, and I stayed quiet about that fact. I silently thanked my lucky stars, though, and felt blessed that she’d be so close, and yet, it wasn’t close enough.

As I came to stand outside the door to her bedroom, I touched the door handle, wondering what’d happen if I opened it. My heart thumped out of my chest at the thought of seeing her asleep. Of hearing her gentle sighs again, and maybe, she’d wake up and see me there, beckon me in and...

No. I had to stop thinking like that. She didn’t trust me yet, and I needed her to. To make this work she had to set the pace. I couldn’t let the beast out of his cage yet. She wasn’t ready.

I let my hand fall to my side and took a deep breath, gazing at the door like it might miraculously open, and in the dim light she’d be standing there, looking at me with her doe eyes, begging me to be with her. Telling me she couldn’t sleep without knowing I was there. Or maybe she’d float out into the hallway, cling to me and tell me how much she needed me. I’d lead her to my room and then...

Fuck.

I needed to get a grip of my fantasies before they threatened to cloud my judgment... and my sanity.

I leaned forward, pressing my forehead against the wooden door as I closed my eyes. I took more deep breaths, like I was chasing her scent, trying to capture something, anything that’d sustain me until morning. In my mind, I was freefalling into my favourite fantasy, where she was everywhere and I was her everything.

Eventually, I stood back, placed my hand on the door and whispered, “Goodnight, beautiful girl.” And then, reluctantly, I turned and headed to my own room. All the time wondering, what she’d say if she knew I’d been obsessed with her, following her, for a lot longer than the night of that gallery opening.

CHAPTER

THIRTY-ONE

EMMA

Ilay awake in one of the most luxurious spare bedrooms I’d ever seen, listening to Alex pace back and forth outside. I stared at the door, wondering if he’d come in. Wondering if I wanted him to. He had a magnetic aura, I couldn’t deny that, and being with him did something to me. It made me feel alive and nervous at the same time. My heart fluttered in my chest as I lay still, barely breathing as I listened intently. Was that a gentle tap I heard on the wood? Not a knock, but a brush against it, maybe?

No. It couldn’t be.

I was hearing things.

Wishing for things.

I tried to calm my beating heart, keeping my breaths slow and steady and willing sleep to find me. But I couldn’t switch off my brain and right now, all I could see was him.

I hadn’t been this excited about a guy in forever, and considering the rest of the shit going on in my life, that was something. He was something, because he had the power to override my fears and make me feel excited for what could happen.

Did I have the same effect on him?

Maybe I did, because he stayed outside for quite a while, and it was only when I heard him retreating, and the sound of a door closing nearby, that I eventually closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep.

But as I slept, the dreams I hoped would come, soon turned into nightmares of murder, blue boiler suits, and red words painted with blood, promising death everywhere I looked. I woke with a start, sitting up in the bed with sweat slick on my body, and I prayed I hadn’t cried out loud in my sleep. I didn’t want anyone to know I’d had a nightmare. Especially Alex.

Instantly, I reached for the bedside lamp to switch it on. Light filled the room, to show me I was alone. I was safe. I lay back on the damp pillow and focused on using breathing techniques and anything else I could do to calm my racing heart. I stared at the wall and began to count the flowers, the leaves, the petals, anything to take my mind to another place. I tried to compile a list of all the types of lilies I knew, then expanded it to include all flowers. But nothing seemed to work. The nightmares kept tapping away at my brain like a tree branch on a windowpane in the wind, tricking me and begging me to take a closer look.

That night, I slept with the light on.

The next morning, I was woken by the sound of my phone ringing. I sat up, turning the lamp off before reaching for my bag and pulling my phone out. And there, on the screen, was Grace’s name.

“Where the hell have you been?” I answered, cutting right to the chase.

“Em, I’m so sorry,” she gasped down the phone. “I meant to tell you I was away on a team building thing for a few nights. The Wi-Fi out there was non-existent. What can I say? I’m the worst friend ever.”

I wanted to tell her that, yes, she was shitty for not telling me, but I couldn’t.

“You’re not the worst,” I replied. “Not the best right now, but you’ll probably climb back up there after this phone call.”