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 EIGHT
CIRCADIAN RHYTHM
( — a consistent pattern of cyclical body activities, usually lasting 24 to 25 hours and determined by an internal biological clock. )
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RHIANNON HATES THAT SHE CAN'T DO ANYTHING ON HER OWN. There's this constant need of having someone by her side, someone who tells her what to do because she's always lost, in a way or another (Stephanie used to tell her she had the worst sense of direction she had ever seen); even worse—there's the need to be told who to be and, simultaneously, the need of being left alone to explore the world on her one and decide, on her own terms, who she wants to be.
The nights are the worst part, Rhiannon thinks. Knowing Isla is sleeping in the other side of the room is comforting, but that's only during the school year (as Isla rarely ever sleeps elsewhere); whenever they're not at college and Rhiannon isn't spending time with the Sargents, she's in her tiny apartment, feeling sorry for herself.
Some people call it comfortable and adorable, because it's just so small and can barely fit all her furniture. She calls it claustrophobic.
Her dorm room is spacious, despite having to share it with Isla, but she has always liked this place; it gives her enough room to decorate things however she wants and to pretend this is something she can also do back at the apartment. That's why it feels straight out of a catalog, never like home, with barely any personal belongings scattered around—it's not like she'd have any room to place them, anyway.
So, when Rhiannon drags herself out of Jude and Matteo's dorm room to go grab something to eat for dinner, loneliness is quick to overpower her, even though Jude is right on the other side of the door (stuffed like a turkey for Thanksgiving, according to him, as he had dinner back at his parents' house). Her dependency is not just about him (as she'd be downright screwed if it was)—it's about anyone who ever gives her the time of the day and is remotely nice to her, systematically repeating those actions.
It's pathetic.
Isla isn't there, as she's still slumped with homework, random assignments and helping her father's ghostwriter move into his new apartment, but Rhiannon understands. If she was in that guy's shoes, having been shoved into a whole new world, she'd be feeling as if her parachute hadn't opened and she kept plummeting down to the concrete, so it's good that Isla is doing him a favor.
Rhiannon is great at resenting people and holding grudges, truthfully (just look at how Connor and her family swim around in her brain at every moment, every second, and how she can't do anything to pull them out of there), and she certainly wouldn't be doing to Isla and never thanks to this.
