Scarlett Romero has spent her entire life as an ordinary citizen; going to school, getting a job and definitely not killing people in the middle of the woods on a Friday night.
Until one Friday night, she does.
All she can remember is acting out of...
She wears all black, Just like her soul, But her heart is made of gold.
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Chapter Twenty-Three "My Idea is Better Than Yours!"
Scarlett's POV:
Sleep fails to consume me that night. I lay on my back, staring up at the ceiling and drumming my fingers on my stomach. There's too much going on in my head to allow for the blissful nothingness of sleep.
Different horror scenes play one after the other whenever I close my eyes; of Kylie dying before I get the chance to stop it; of an eternity in Citadel Prison; of Alexander suddenly hating everything about me and leaving me alone.
I groan, throwing an arm across my forehead and resisting the urge to scream into my pillow. I know Alexander would hear me, and he'd rush in expecting something to be wrong, and I don't want to explain to him how I'm going through an existential crisis because every bad thing that could've ever happened to me, has happened.
I toss and turn for another hour, finding every cold spot on the bed only to change positions when they get warm. Still, I can't handle having my eyes closed for more than a minute before my fears get the best of me.
Cursing every god I can think of under my breath, I toss the sheet off me and stumble to my feet. Despite being used to the dark, I shuffle slowly out of the room, feeling around with my toes before taking a step.
The lit torches outside my room make the entire cell feel eerier than it is. The flickering shadows dancing on the walls and sputtering sparks from the flames remind me of a haunted cave, the type where someone goes in and they never come back out.
I shake the foreboding feeling away, focusing on the sound of my bare feet patting against the cold floor. I eye the dark entry to Alexander's cul-de-sac, and for a split-second I debate going in search of the comfort I know he can provide. I decide against it, only because he'll be too warm to sleep against.
Liar, the air whispers teasingly, sliding through the hair beside my ears with a taunting giggle. I roll my eyes, swatting at the air as if trying to get rid of an annoying fly.
I go to the study instead, the smell of old ink and pastry a pleasant familiarity I welcome with open arms. I let out an easy breath, tense shoulders slumping, and I snatch a piece of shortbread before sinking into the couch.
Like the torches in the hallway, the study's fireplace will never stop burning unless doused with a large amount of water. It's annoying when I'm trying to sleep, because the light of the flame seeps under my bedroom door. Other than that, knowing I have power to draw from at any point in time is comforting.
"Are you naturally unobservant or did you not see me because it's nearly three in the morning?"
I turn towards the sound of Alexander's voice so quickly I nearly fall off the couch. He's sitting in the desk chair, staring down at me with a quirked brow and amused twist of the lips.
