It was an hour after Paris took Riley upstairs and explained everything to her, and while he spoke, the nurses in his infirmary attended to the glass wounds on both of them.
Every little detail was explained to her.
That Violet wasn’t her real mother—that her father had been lying to her all these years—that her real mother killed herself in an alleyway somewhere near the police station Riley was given to, and that she was an experiment of some infectious disease that Paris’s father created; a disease that wasn’t really that effective.
But most of all… was that all of Riley’s family by blood were dead.
All except for little Julie.
All this time, her birth was a mistake… all this time.
She was currently sitting on the floor of a bathroom upstairs, sobbing into her knees while she pulled her legs to her chest; an attempt to cradle herself.
Her life was a lie.
A big, horrible lie.
And now there was a copycat trying to rid of everything in the bloodline.
Because they were all part of the experiment.
And only she and Julie were left, and this killer wouldn’t stop until they were all dead.
The thought only made her sob harder into her knees, and her throat constricted.
She couldn’t breathe with all the pain consuming her.
Not when her lungs tightened, and not when her throat felt swollen with all the crying she’d done for the past thirty minutes.
Who? Who would do something like this?
Who was the copycat? Who was it?
It was someone she knew, but it wasn’t Claire or Paris or Violet, and Ryan was too lazy to commit murder despite his many awards from football.
Then who…? Who would do this?
But without a knock, the bathroom door creaked open, and she heard it close; followed with footsteps padding toward her.
She forgot to lock it.
Shit.
Until Paris kneeled down in front of her, watching her worriedly as she refused to make eye-contact.
She succeeded in stopping the loud sobs, but she knew if she locked eyes with him, she’d start crying again.
And she wasn’t sure if she could stop then.
She felt is hand touch her shoulder, though she didn’t pull away; just let him do what he was doing.
She trusted him now—somewhat. He was still a little crazy and not a very safe driver, but he’d proven that he wasn’t the bad guy.
Because everything added up; everything he said made sense.
It was incredibly hard to lie about something like that and have it so everything added up.
She kept her face in her knees, staring at the ground while he started to rub her back soothingly.
She took the back of her hands and wiped her cheeks to get rid of all the tears.
“Hey,” he said gently—her loving the tingles running through her while he rubbed her back, “you okay?”
She nodded.
“Can you show me your face?” he said.
She shook her head.
“No?”
She shook her head again.
“C’mon,” he urged, “show me your face. I want to see.”
She lifted her neck then, staring at him through her blurred vision and seeing his figure smile.
He gently cupped her cheeks and ran his thumbs under her eyes, drying all tears.
“You wanna watch some TV with me?” he asked gently.
She just blinked, confused at the odd question.
“Just, c’mon,” he urged, standing now.
She just sat there, staring up at him blankly.
He rose a brow. “Really?”
No response.
A sigh. “Whatever, come on.” He lifted her by her armpits and she whined in annoyance, shifting away from him until he finally let go and rolled his eyes. “You do realize you can’t sit here all night? Some people have to take a piss, you know.”
She didn’t respond, once again.
“Silent game?”
She moved her eyes to the wall behind him.
He rubbed a hand down his face. “Do you not want to watch TV?”
Yeah, she did. She just needed to recuperate her thoughts, though; mainly because he was confusing the hell out of her.
He saw her slight smile on her blank expression and rolled his eyes, grabbing under her armpits, once more.
As she tried to squirm away, he only lifted her and chuckled, “No, don’t fight. Let’s go, now.”
And he carried her out the door like she was a child, holding under her hips to keep her up while they went to a new bedroom that was clearly made up for her.
Oh, Jesus… The warmth from his hand was so close to her clit…
She was burning.
At least she didn’t have to sleep in his bedroom tonight, right? She could satisfy the burning by herself.
ns 15.158.61.5da2
