“He won’t be able to come near me now that he has someone else.” I throw my hands up in a vague gesture. “Like that Cherry.”
He’s going to fuck her, as he promised, and I’m never allowing him near me again.
Not even if I have to suffer for it.
Not even if I have to unleash Lan on him.
Actually, both Lan and Eli, and Creighton if I’m in the mood. I didn’t want to get them involved before, because I was genuinely scared to cause them trouble, but I’ll go against my nature and ask for their help this time.
Gareth unhooks the mask from around his neck and strokes the creepy neon smile. “I wouldn’t be so sure if I were you. I’ve known Kill all my life and I still can’t figure out what the hell he’s thinking about most of the time.”
My interest perks up. “How…do you deal with him? If you don’t mind me asking, of course.”
A sad smile pulls his lips, resembling the shades of autumn. That’s what fits him—a mixture of warm, dying colors. “My way of dealing with him is nowhere near impressive. Are you sure you want to hear it?”
“Yes, please.”
“I just avoid being the subject of his entertainment.”
“Are you scared of him?”
“No, but I’m scared of his lack of empathy. I’m also scared he’ll end up hurting our parents in an irrevocable way, which is why I try to monitor him as much as possible—while staying out of his way.”
“You mean like a big brother.”
“No, like a lawyer.” He releases a sigh. “He’s a criminal in the making, and just because our parents refuse to see that doesn’t mean I don’t. Killian started by killing mice, then scaled up to hurting his classmates, then me. Then he got himself in mafia business just so he could witness the brutality firsthand. Not to mention these initiations that he keeps escalating in intensity with each season. At some point, all these stimulants won’t be enough for his mind and he’ll end up killing. It’s a matter of when, not if. And when that happens, he won’t be able to get enough of the taste of finishing a life. He’ll keep doing it again and again, just to experience that intoxicating thrill, until he’ll eventually get caught. So I’m just waiting for him to fall into that hole.”
I frown. “That’s not true.”
“What isn’t?”
“The fact that he’ll surely become a criminal. He has more control than anyone I know.”
“Or that’s what he wants everyone to think. Kill is not completely in control—he’s merely suppressing his true desires, and one day, they’ll rule him.”
No.
Gareth is only seeing him in a dark light, probably because of their history. There’s more to Killian than his violent intent.
And no, I’m not defending him. I’m just thinking of it as I would about Lan.
Though my brother is a bit different. I think. He loves our parents and us. Or maybe he fakes it so well that we’re blinded to it.
“You be careful out there.” Gareth points at the door.
And I take that as my cue to go.
Once I’m outside, I can’t help stealing a look behind me. Gareth has both hands in his pockets as he watches me with a blank expression that somehow makes me uneasy.
I leave with images of Cherry and Killian assaulting my head. Even as I make myself think that I absolutely do not care.
I don’t.
Right?
* * *
Maybe I do care a little.
Or a lot.
Considering I haven’t been able to sleep.
After I sneak into the flat, I think I hear moans of pain. But after close inspection, it’s only Ava’s cello. Cecily’s light is out, so she must be asleep.
Me? I toss and turn in bed for half an hour, picturing Killian on top of that blonde. In my imagination, he’s thrusting inside her and roughening her up as she likes it and—
I stuff my face with a pillow in an attempt to shoo the image away.
Then I roll onto my back and open my Instagram app. The first image that comes up is a selfie of Annika, pouting while leaning on one hand as the sun glows from the tall French doors behind her.
There’s beautiful and then there’s photogenic beauty like Anni’s.
She captioned her picture ‘Bored. Tell me something about yourself.’
The first comment that appears is from lord-remington-astor.
My lack of knowledge on Greek literature has always been my Achilles’ elbow.
Annika answers with a line of laughing-out-loud emojis. Then she and Remi keep talking back and forth for like twenty comments in the midst of which they tag Creigh five times, but he doesn’t honor them with a response.
Wait. Did these two actually make an Instagram account for Creighton?
I scroll down to find another comment from a familiar name.
nikolai_sokolov: Might want to delete this before Jeremy does his night patrol.
I click on his profile and find that he has tens of thousands of followers. No kidding.
Nikolai’s profile has a whole dark grungy mood. It’s full of smoky pictures, fighting pictures, and among them are weird family ones that don’t fit. In one, he’s surrounded by two stunning identical blondes who are laughing at the camera as he frowns.
Still trying to deceive me, but I know the one on the left is Maya… Right?
There’s a screenshot from what looks to be a group chat with an interesting caption.
Surrounded by idiots.
Gareth: Group study?
Nikolai:I have a better idea. Group sex.
Gareth:Gross.
Jeremy:Try again in a hundred years.
Killian:I’m blocking you.
I can almost hear Killian’s monotone voice as he says that, and my stomach flips, but I exit the screenshot and continue scrolling through Nikolai’s account.
In the last picture he posted, Nikolai is grabbing a struggling Gareth and a bored-looking Killian in chokeholds.
Stuck with these motherfuckers for life. Not that I’m complaining…okay, maybe a little.
I tap on the tag section, my finger trembling as I click on killian.carson.
My heart nearly leaps out of my throat when I find the Follow Back button.
Just when the hell did he follow me?
Though he did mention that he saw my Inception-inspired painting and my stories earlier.
I run back to my notifications and find he liked a lot of my pictures. I scroll down and down, and holy hell, the crazy bastard liked all five hundred pictures I posted on Instagram.
Every single one.
An hour ago.
Isn’t that around the time I came back to the flat? Does that mean he didn’t continue his plan or am I just looking for excuses?
I return to his profile.
If I expected him to have about the same following as Nikolai, I’m terribly mistaken—it’s way more. Like two hundred thousand more.
Of course the prick is popular. No surprise there.
His profile’s description is: Med student. Lover of fine things.
Killian’s account is less chaotic than Nikolai’s. In fact, it’s aesthetically pleasing with warm colors and a lot of positive energy. Parties. Med students’ gatherings. Friends. Family. People.
Lots and lots of people and faces and smiles and life.
It’s the perfect façade for his rotten insides.
He’s either smiling or laughing or smirking in pictures. Some are taken in exotic places, others are on filthy-rich properties. Not only does his family have money, but he likes to show it, too.
The more I scroll, the surer I am that Killian is the male version of the social butterfly that’s taken over Ava and Annika, but without their sincerity.
Killian is flat out mimicking the youth’s obsession with social media and he’s doing it way better than they do since charisma comes naturally to him.
But I know that each of his smiles is undeniably fake.
As I go through his profile, I can tell why people would be so attracted to him. There are a lot of beautiful men around, but there are only a handful with his level of easygoing attractiveness. He doesn’t have to try to attract people’s attention like a magnet.
They flock to him like a moth to a flame without knowing they’ll burn if they get too close.
Or if he sets his sights on them.
I click on a family picture in which an elegantly dressed woman, whom I assume is his mother, sits on a high-back baroque chair. Her expression is of a badass queen as she holds the hand of a man that rests on her shoulder. Her husband—considering his resemblance to both Gareth and Killian—stands right behind her wearing a smirk. Both Gareth’s and Killian’s faces, however, are full of horror.
I scroll sideways for another picture in which she’s laughing, her husband’s expression is solemn, and Gareth appears relieved. Killian is throwing his head back in laughter.
Unlike the other picture, this laugh doesn’t seem completely fake. It’s not genuine either—just right in the middle.
My attention slides to the caption.
The difference between ‘Maybe I’ll give you boys a little sister, after all’ and ‘Just kidding, look at your faces.’
I notice a pattern where Killian posts more family pictures with his mother and his aunt, his mum’s identical twin, who’s also Nikolai’s mother, than with his father or Gareth.
In fact, the only time he posts a picture of his father is when his mother is around.
And there’s only one time where he’s posted a picture of Gareth, who’s out for a run in the rain.
My big bro’s leg day might turn into swim day in this weather. Get it together, England.
However, there are tons of pictures of his mother. In the last one, he has a selfie of her trying to feed him a biscuit while he scrunches his face.
I told my favorite woman that I stopped being six more than a decade ago, and she said “Not on my watch” as she stuffed me with a cookie. Thoughts on convincing your mom you’ve grown up?
Then he has another picture where he’s standing between his mother and aunt. His mum pinches his jaw while laughing and his aunt grins.
Guess who’s the queens’ escort for the night? Be mad @nikolai_sokolov.
My eyes blur with all the similar images. The normal, hyper, absolutely mesmerizing documentation of his life.
Oh, he’s good.