My Ex boyfriend Is A Pycho

Chapter 13-The Pattern

Firstly it was some guys near Helen's house, whom Isabella told me one of them was my boyfriend for the night, secondly it was Noah, whom I had talked to in the library and during Wade's party, thirdly it was Alejandro, whom I had met outside the supermarket, and his family members.

Turns out I had interacted with all the guys that had died apart from the two in Helen's party and Alejandro's family.

It could have been Wade. All the deaths started after we broke up. Maybe he was some sort of an explosive introvert and insidiously revenged thinking that I was dating them. The fact that he was close to Gwen whom might have been involved in Noah's death, ironed my suspense towards him.

I had once a taste of him, and he couldn't be so brutal, could he?

There was only one way to find out. Test him with another guy. No, no,no. I wasn't that cold.

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe it was the man in black that kept on appearing and disappearing. Who or what he wanted from me remained a formidable quiz. How to find him made it even harder.

Maybe Wade was the man in a black coat. I couldn't agree with my conscience about that since Wade didn't have glowing eyes. I was left bemused.

Who next to die would be a guy I would come across if my assumptions were not wrong, which I sheerly prayed they were.

I couldn't make anything very useful, but the fact that the guys that died were guys who I had interacted with after Wade and I broke up.

It might have be a coincidence. I convinced myself.

MM took my sleeping meds and once Sam came to check on me at midnight, I played asleep.

°*°

For a Monday morning, everything was normal until I alighted the bus.

If I wasn't being paranoid then all eyes were on me.

Everyone looked at me like I was a nightmare medaling within humans, or a being never to be heard or seen before. Every step I took, every corner, every turn people were starring at me like the losing cheerleader clique member who just lost a handsome president boyfriend.

He or whoever exposed the breakup must have added something on it. Those glances were not supposed to last a whole day but still feel the same or worse.

My friends did some digging up but there was nothing more than Wade himself talking about our breakup.

I couldn't help but notice he was doing all right. Good for him he was happier and healthier as insinuated by his stress free lifestyle appearance. While I, on the other side of the pivot, was doing terrible. Sleep was now becoming my enemy if not drugging myself into it, I lost taste of life and meaning, my stereotype was wrecked and sculptured into nothing a normal human would ever want.

Hiding my anguish behind my closet, when I was alone did it smolder me utterly forcing tears out of my eyes. What other girls had and I didn't, and if he was making my life miserable intentionally or unknowingly remained impossible to iron out.

The sleepless week went by as the pain became heavier and heavier with a second. Though the stares were reducing the respect was gone.