Sidetracked (Mindf*ck, #2)

by S.T. Abby

Real knowledge is to know the extent of one’s ignorance. —Confucius

I am Kennedy Carlyle. Well, actually I’m Lana Myers. Victoria Evans and Kennedy both died, and Lana was born. It’s a wonder I don’t have an identity crisis.

Life is really simple, but we insist on making it complicated. —Confucius

It’s all cloak and dagger right now. That’s what happens when you’re a serial killer dating a FBI profiler who hunts serial killers.

I pull him down and kiss him again, and he grips me tightly, tugging me even closer. He lifts me with two hands on my ass, and I land on top of my dresser as he steps between my legs, still devouring my mouth. When I moan, he swallows the sound, and then someone bangs on the door. “We need to roll if we’re going to meet Elise and Leonard to deliver the adjustments to the profile!” the girl harps. Definitely cutting her. Logan doesn’t break the kiss. If anything, he kisses me harder, as though he’s assuring me she doesn’t matter as much as I do. As though nothing matters as much as I do.

Without feelings of respect, what is there to distinguish men from beasts? —Confucius

To see and listen to the wicked is already the beginning of wickedness. —Confucius

There’s a certain high you get from fooling the world into thinking you’re the lamb instead of the rabid wolf.

In my tank and tiny shorts, I snuggle in next to him, and his arms come around me, holding me close. “Wear pants around that guy. No more of this,” he murmurs against my forehead, squeezing my ass through the little spandex shorts.

A serial killer sharing a house with a homicide detective and a FBI agent. Life doesn’t get more complicated than this.

It’s sad that I want to hide my bodies now so that my boyfriend gets a break and can spend more time with me.

I don’t know a lot of things about her. But a past doesn’t make a person, and that’s all she’s holding back. I trust that she’ll share that when she’s ready.

Death and life have their determined appointments. —Confucius

When anger rises, think of the consequences. —Confucius

Sometimes, the homeless turn a blind eye to anything going on around them. It’s their survival mechanism kicking in, not their inhumanity. It’s street-survival. They’ve suffered for so long, that suffering more would be too much.

Only the wisest and stupidest of men never change. —Confucius

many good people in this world, and it took a monster to end the suffering of so many innocent children.

I know that now more than ever, because only the strong could handle touch after what she’s suffered.

“You’re really here. Alive. Looking so different.” “It’s really me.” She nods, her eyes still lost and not on me. “You’re going after them, aren’t you?” she asks in a hushed tone, her eyes coming back to meet mine. I nod once.

“Antonio left me when he believed Kyle. Kyle said I had sex with him. I told my husband I was…raped. He believed my rapist over me. Just left me.” I nod, already knowing this. Antonio is on my list, but not for death. He’s marked for penance. Should be fun.

Lindy’s scars don’t run as deep or painful as mine. One man ruined her. So many more took a piece of me. But the pain is just the same. Just as scary. Just as unrelenting.

I hold up six fingers, and she cocks her head, confused. “That many are already gone.” Surprise flits across her eyes. “Then you have a long list ahead of you.”

Just as silently, I open the drawer, and pull out the gun I have hidden there. Why is there a gun hidden in my bathroom? Have you ever seen a horror film? The girl always gets stabbed in the shower. Or she runs into the bathroom and locks the door, but has no way to defend herself when the psycho killer breaks in.