𝐏𝐒𝐘𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐇 (Ash Trilogy #2) ✔️

5

~ Aurora POV ~

My coffee burnt my tongue today and I've been mad about it ever since.

Even though it's now 9 pm. The sky is smeared with orange, pink, and red. It shines onto my face and I wish it was enough to make me smile but it's not.

I feel awful.

It's been a few days since I lashed out at Saint. And I feel so horrible about it.

He's obviously not stalking me. Saint is a sweet guy and I was just lashing out at him because I was angry.

He has been giving me space. He hasn't stopped by my work or texted me ever since I slapped him.

I really like Saint. He's funny and unlike the guys here in New York.

When I'm around him, I feel as if he truly cares. And I can't say that about most people.

"Stop thinking about him, Aurora," I whisper to myself.

Blanco jumps onto my lap and lays down like a lazy crap. I like Blanco because he's a lot like me. 

I scratch his head, making his blue eyes shut.

"What should I do, Blanc?" I ask a cat that can't talk.

He smiles while I keep scratching his head.

I sigh.

"You're right, Blanco," I blame Blanco for my own decision.

I need to go and apologize to him. The things I said to him were vile and unjustified. I can't take my anger out on somebody that is just trying to help.

I like Saint. I really like him.

I move Blanco's lazy butt off of me and swing my legs over my bed. My bare feet hit my wooden floor and I rush over to my closet, swinging the door open.

I grab a white skirt and blue shirt. I pull them on quickly, before brushing my dark brown hair and swiping my lips with lipgloss. 

Maybe I didn't look the best, but I didn't want to waste any more time.

I grab my keys and step out into the Saturday night.

~ Saint POV ~

"Ten more deaths total the unknown killers kill count," the TV reporter speaks. "There is still no information on this individual. All that is known about their twisted existence is that they kill with a red mask on."

I toss my red mask onto my bed and the sound of the newscaster's voice gets quieter and quieter as I cross my bedroom and enter my bathroom. I turn the water on of my marble shower before turning toward the mirror.

I look at my reflection. My blonde hair is disheveled and specs of blood rest on my blank face. 

I begin unbuttoning my once white shirt, which was now red from blood.

I've killed ten people in the last three days.

And it's all because I haven't spoken to you, Aurora. Not hearing your voice is like a heroin addict not taking a hit. 

The hot water hits my skin as I scrub the blood away.

Every single person I killed, was innocent. They didn't do anything to me. I just did it for fun.

But it doesn't even compare to the feeling Aurora sparked in me.

I don't know what it is. But now, I feel something. When I'm thinking about her, or when I'm watching her, because I wasn't going to just not look over her when she's angry at me. But the feeling is warm and explodes inside my chest and stomach.