Psycho Killer (Zak Bagans) (Ghost Adventures) *COMPLETED*

Chapter Eight

Y/N

Why am I so devastated? You were the one who threw it all away. Now, who's the one lost and lonely? I've got to break away from you. Tears stung my eyes as I power walked to god knows where. Zak was a dick, he said I could never leave him because I knew too much but when the going got tough he dumped me like I was dead weight. I had nowhere to go since my apartment was a crime scene and Zak had all but kicked me out of his house. I could phone a friend but they'd ask questions I didn't want to answer.

There were plenty of cheap hotels scattered around Vegas I could afford on my savings so it looked like I'd be here for a couple of days until I could clear my mind. The middle-aged woman behind the reception desk takes pity on me and offers me a room at a reduced price which I accept without question. Did I look that down on my luck?

Once inside my double room, I throw my bags down on the bed and head into the bathroom, the light flickering above me. I grip either side of the sink and dare to look at my reflection. I was horrified at the person who looked back at me, this wasn't y/n y/l/n, this was someone broken. Bruises covered my entire neck, the cut on the side of my head was bleeding through the bandage paramedics had put on, and my eyes were red and puffy from crying.

I splash some water on my face and exit the bathroom, throwing myself on the bed to try and get my head around how fucked up my life had become all because of that creepy guy in the pub. In my backpack, my phone goes off, so I roll over and unzip the bag wanting the noise to stop so I could rest. The phone number wasn't one I recognised, but I still answer out of curiosity.

'Hello, is this Miss y/l/n?' an unfamiliar female voice sounds down the other end.

'Err yes, who is this?' I reply, suspicious of the woman and just how she got a hold of my number.

'Ah yes your friend Carl Jones, who was admitted after being stabbed in the neck, has come out of surgery and is going to make a full recovery. He had you listed as an emergency contact,' she speaks overly cheery like this was good news.

My heart skips a beat, how the fuck was he still alive? Zak confirmed he was dead. How did someone survive getting stabbed in the neck?

I gulp, 'err thanks.'

I hang up after she gives me the address of the hospital and start to shake, this couldn't be happening. Zak said I was free, but Carl was still alive and going to recover and had a hold of my mobile number. Zak was probably already halfway out of the city, but he should know, right? If Carl spoke we'd both be in deep shit.

Opening Zak's number I slowly type out a message I didn't know if he would even see or answer it.

Y/N: I just got a call from the hospital...you didn't kill Carl...he's alive and out of surgery...I thought you should know...

I take out my charger and put my phone on charge and silent next to the bed on the bedside table. Even though it was daylight outside sleep came easily to me, maybe all the drama was finally catching up to me.

ZAK

I was stuck in a traffic jam not going anywhere anytime soon. I tap the steering wheel in frustration getting more and more annoyed with each passing second. I had packed lightly, knowing I could pick up more clothes wherever I ended up. My murder room looked like a normal basement, having hidden all the tools and plastic sheeting in an undisclosed location that had always been my backup for when this day eventually came.

I planned on discarding my phone once I got out of town, having already bought a pre-paid burner phone to tide myself over until I could get myself back on track. But on the passenger seat my phone pings with a new message. Sighing heavily I reach over and pick it up seeing y/n's name, I should have ignored it but a part of me wanted to see what he'd sent me.

'You have to be fucking kidding me right now, is this some sort of joke?' I growl, throwing the phone back on the seat.

Darling stop confusing me with your wishful thinking. Don't you understand I have to do this? I play dead and the hurting stops. If this was y/n's way of getting me to stay, it was a pretty low blow. I knew how to stab someone to kill them, there was no way I messed up and severely injured Carl instead. But as the events played over and over in my head, maybe I did slip up because all I saw was red when I saw y/n covered in blood and being choked on the floor. Had I let my emotions get in the way?

I clench the steering wheel, trying to get my head around what to do next? If what y/n said was true and Carl was alive and recovering, I couldn't let him utter a word to the Police who would come around asking questions after mine and y/n's cover story about self-defence.