I feel Dee. They’re all down there, waiting for you to do something. They’re talking about you. They’re going to suck you in. And before they eat you up and spit you out, they will move you around their sharp teeth, feel you with their tongues, taste your fear. Play with you. Then they’ll watch you dissolve. They’ll cover their mouths while they snicker and look the other way while you cry. Then they’ll abandon you. They’ll feign ignorance to your pain. They have their own lives, you know. They are very busy. Too busy for you. Too busy to notice you planning, scheming, designing the perfect final project. The perfect final scene before the credits roll. They have their classes and their jobs and their own shit to figure out; they have the big game coming up or cheerleading practice, or a moving van to pack, someone’s hair to color. They have their Tumblr to update, their Insta to check, they have friends to like and enemies to unfollow, they have other friends to punish and other enemies to manipulate. And so they won’t notice while you plan and plot and organize. They won’t see you as you stick to shadows and get ready to surprise them. They underestimate you. Make them notice and remember and realize who you are.

She’s right.

I keep looking online for help with my research. It’s all out there. You can find anything you put your mind to, any strange, rage-filled fantasy. Instructions, videos, plans, designs. I need them, and they are there for me. There are, I guess, a lot of reasons why people might need these kinds of how-to tutorials. I, for one, have never been as keen on learning as I am right now. A+ for research, Stevie. I just need a place to put my plan together.

And I already have a key. I’m halfway there.

Chapter 28

28

I wake early Saturday morning and creep into the kitchen. I throw a bunch of bread and a jar of jam into my bag, some apples, and a water bottle. I haven’t checked my phone since yesterday morning.

Instead, I spent the rest of the day walking around, from one end of town to the other, which doesn’t take long. My mind was buzzing like it was full of Pop Rocks. Got a slice of pizza and sat by the lake. Some middle-aged ladies were paddleboarding, the sun making their hair shine. It looked really peaceful, and I felt my anger lift for a moment, felt the sads dilute. Then I looked around me at all the trash left on the shore, and it was back in a flash. Damn place. I walked back into town.

I went to the local bookstore, Ex Libris, and had a chat with the owner, who everyone calls Big Al. No joke. This town.

“Hey there,” he said.