Game Over (Whithall University Book Two)

PROLOGUE

 

My shoes beat along the paved sidewalk, following behind at a healthy pace. She doesn’t even hear me, see me, or even sense me watching.

So much had changed over the past couple of weeks; deep within me I felt something crack, until finally―deliciously―I felt that something snap.

A darkness now filled my empty soul, flooding life back into me. For so long I had felt empty, feeling like something was wrong with me. Now, I know I was right. I wasn’t who I was meant to be, who I was born to be.

Now I’ve been reborn.

And it’s all because of her.

My fists clench as I think about her. She’s mine. She’ll always be mine. She just hasn’t gotten to know me, the real me, but she will.

And he’ll be gone.

When I saw them kissing―when they didn’t think anyone was looking―I was enraged. The thought of her with him, with anyone, made my blood boil. The anger inside me built and built until it was almost like I was choking on it.

Shaking my head, my thoughts go to a happier time, a time when everything was perfect.

The first time I saw her she was walking across the quad to class. Her bronze hair shone against the summer sun, and her eyes sparkled in the light. She smiled as she walked past, unaware of what she had stirred inside of me as she carried on walking with her friend.

She’s the light to my dark.

And soon, she’ll know just how much we belong together.

Today, I’m going to show her just how much I love her. How much she means to me. It will be like a present of sorts.

Christie, the girl I’m following, stops outside her residential hall. She throws up in a bush and I grin, carrying on into the building to start my surprise.

You see, Christie did something, something not many know, but I do. And I’m going to make her pay.

Finding her room isn’t hard. The girl sleeps around like no one’s business and her room number is on the back of most toilets.

She’s just that easy.

I jiggle the handle, not at all surprised to find it open.

Fools, the lot of them, and incredibly weak-minded.

All except her.

I flick the lamp on in her room, looking around for the best place to wait until she arrives. In the corner is a chair, pressed between the wall and a dresser. Grinning, I walk over and sit down, crossing my legs as I wait.

It isn’t long before the door flies open and she comes staggering in. I made sure she came home alone tonight. After all, not many lads want to sleep with someone who is going to be sloppy.

I planned this down to the last second, and I’ll be damned if some cheap hook-up was going to ruin it for me.

“Whoops.”

She falls onto her bed, kicking off her shoes, making everything so much easier for me. It’s like she wants to die tonight.

Taking a deep breath, I stand slowly, making sure I don’t make a noise as I move over to her. She’s grumbling about never drinking again, and I want to tell her it will no longer be a problem for her again.

Because after tonight, she’ll be merely a memory.

She’ll just be some girl who died on campus.

My fingers wrap around the heavy torch in my trousers, and raise it above my head. She must hear me because she turns, a startled look on her face, before I hit her. She falls down easily and I grin, catching her.

I’m going to drag this out and have plenty of fun doing it.

I make quick work of tying her to the bed and gagging her. The last thing I need is for to alert someone of me being here. It would ruin my plans.

And I must feed the beast inside me.

Groaning, she comes to, her eyes blinking rapidly. I watch as everything comes back to her before she starts struggling. I sit astride her, feeding on the fear radiating from her in waves. I breathe through my nose, my body humming at the intoxicating scent.

“I’d like to say this isn’t personal, but we both know it is.” My voice is rough, unrecognisable in my desire to cause her pain, so I pull off my hood, revealing myself to her.

She blinks, surprise flashing across her face before she starts struggling, cursing under the gag. It makes me laugh, a sinister smile spreading across my face.

My fingers glide up her arms, loving the way she struggles beneath my touch. Maybe a taste of her own medicine is what she needs, but her blonde hair, green eyes, and hollow face just don’t do it for me.

I sigh, tilting my head to the side.

“You need to be punished, Christie.”

Her head shakes from side to side as my hands make their way up to her neck, squeezing as hard as I can. My fingers dig into her pulse, feeling it beating erratically under my touch.

It feeds the beast further, like he’s coming home for the first time.

After a few minutes, her porcelain skin turns purple and her futile struggling becomes slow and weak.

I let go, needing to prolong her punishment.

She gasps, trying to catch her breath. Her eyes dilate, her pupils bloodshot, and I lean down, licking the side of her face, chin to ear. She tries to fight me, to get away, her screams muffled behind the gag.

“If I let you go will you promise to leave Whithall University?” I ask, slowly running my fingers down her hair.

She looks at me wild-eyed, nodding her head furiously as tears fall down her cheeks.

Not able to resist, I lean down, capturing them with a lazy swipe of my tongue.

“You taste so good. Fear becomes you,” I murmur in her ear. “But I’m sorry, you need to be punished.”

She shakes her head, her screams getting louder and louder as her legs kick and her hips buck to get free.

I throw my head back, laughing, before looking her straight in the eye, showing her just who she’s dealing with.

She must see her death in my gaze because she starts shaking her head, her eyes pleading with me to set her free.

And I will. Death will be the ultimate freedom. The price of her sins. I’m doing the world a favour. She’s dirty, unclean… she deserves what is about to happen.

With a grin on my face, I lean down, my hot breath fanning across her face before I grip her neck once again, my hold tighter, stronger.

Only this time, I won’t give her the slightest bit of hope. Because now, I’m going to choke the life out of her.

Her movements slow down, the fight leaving her body, along with the last bit of oxygen, until finally, her body slumps to the bed lifelessly.

But my beast doesn’t calm. If anything, the rage building inside me continues, wanting and needing more. I need to show her she can’t kiss other people, that she can’t leave me. She’s mine.

It’s only when a noise next door startles me do I let go, sitting back to admire my handi work.

Her wild hair captures my attention, and yearning to tame it settles in my mind. I manoeuvre my body off hers and look around the room, finding a brush before moving back to the bed.

She looks peaceful, finally in a place she belongs.

I brush the front of her hair, hypnotised by how easily it combs through. I reach out, touching the strands of hair that feel nothing like hers. They don’t feel silky or soft, and I growl, angry at Christie.

Grabbing my backpack, I look through the contents before finding what I need.

I undo her ties, and cross her hands over her chest, before moving back to her hair. I lift her head, fingers fumbling slightly as I feel around the back of her skull before snipping off a chunk of her blonde locks, needing it to remember her, to remember this moment.

I place it in a clear bag and put it in the front of my backpack, not wanting it to get spoiled by the yogurt and drink I have in there.

It needs to be cherished, to be admired, which is what I’ll do.

With that done, I get up from the bed, carefully tucking the blanket up to her chin. A part of me wants to leave her eyes open, wishing I could be here when her roommate finds her and sees the fear in those glassy orbs, the fear she felt in her last moments of life. It will scare her roommate, the thought bringing a new kind of shiver to run down my spine.

Sighing, I close them, wanting her to rot here for as long as possible. If fate is on my side, her roommate will stay out all weekend and let Christie rot.

Now all I can do is wait for her to find out the news. She’ll know I did this for her. She will. And she’ll thank me for it, worship me even.

As I begin to leave, I turn back around, wanting to capture the moment to memory. An idea occurs, and I pull out my phone, snapping a picture before grinning down at it.

Yes, the beast has been tamed.

But for how long?