Page 205 of That Time I Accidentally Became A Serial Killer
“How do you get past the alarm?”
Still nothing.
He just watches me with that same unshakable patience—like he’s waiting for me to catch up.
The silence is suffocating.
It presses down on me until my skin itches, my heart hammers, my composure cracks.
He’s building a wall between us and something in me snaps.
The anger bubbling under my skin finally has a target.
“Leave,” I snap. “I don’t want you here.”
He doesn’t move.
Doesn’t speak.
Just watches—steady, maddening—like he already knows how this ends.
“Go,” I say again, shoving against him.
It’s like trying to move an oak tree.
“I mean it. Get out.”
Still nothing.
Still calm, while I’m coming apart at the seams.
Hot, angry tears blur my vision. Furious drops slide down my cheeks, making it worse.
I push him again, fists landing on his chest, desperate for a reaction.
He doesn’t flinch so I shove harder.
He stays rooted like I’m a stiff breeze against a hurricane.
“Why won’t you leave?” I scream, my voice breaking, throat raw from everything I can’t say.
He moves—quick and sure.
Grabs my wrists. Not hurting, just steady.
He walks me back until my spine hits the wall, the coolness slicing through the heat radiating off me.
He cages me there, breathing slow and steady while I gasp like I’m drowning.
“Stop it,” he says, low and rough. “Stop fighting everything. Stop thinking so goddamn much and just surrender.”
His voice vibrates through me, rattling something loose.
“I don’t know what that means.”
“Do whatever the fuck you want, Poppy,” he rasps, crowding closer. “Just stop running from it.”
The walls I’ve held up all night finally crack.
