Page 47 of Ready Or Not
“Clearly.” I cross my arms over my chest. “‘Cause you kidnapped me.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Riley examining her nails. “Let’s save ourselves this tiring conversation again, and I’ll tell you right now that I’m a sociopath, Rachel. I don’tcareabout what’s ‘wrong.’ Save me your morality speech; it’s not gonna work.”
I stare at her. Oh fuck. That makes so much sense. I rack my brain for anything I can remember on the term. All I know about it is the stereotypical association with serial killers. I stare at her, wanting to ask all kinds of questions, but I’m not sure what I can ask. Instead, I say, “Manson, too?”
Riley barks a laugh. “He’s a psychopath.”
“Isn’t that what I asked?”
“Sociopath and psychopath. One is made. The other is born.”
I pick at my thumb nail again, turning away from her. I have a big piece of loose skin. I know if I pull it away, it’ll bleed. I do it anyway. “And which one are you?”
I don’t know which one sounds worse. If you’re born with it, then you must not ever know what it’s like to live life like everyone else. There’d be some comfort in that. But the horrors you’d have to go through to be made one…
Riley is silent for so long that I don’t think she’ll answer. Then, her rich voice says, “Made.”
I wince. I’m not sure what to say. What does one say to that? Sorry?
I glance at Riley. Her face twists into a scowl. “I see that look. Don’t try to ‘fix me,’ Rachel. You wouldn’t be the first bitch to try, and you won’t be the last.”
With that, she storms out of the bathroom and slams the door.
Shit. I fucked up somehow.
I stay in the tub, soaking in the water until it’s cold. I think about what this means for me, for my survival, and how I even fit into this puzzle in the first place.
I don’t want to get out of the tub, but when I start to shiver, I do. I wrap myself in a scratchy towel and come out.
Riley’s on the floor, looking at the ceiling.
“I have no clothes,” I say.
“Nothing I haven’t seen before, bambi.” Riley’s voice is monotone.
I stare at her, wondering what made her the way she is. What could have possibly happened to her?
She looks at me, and it’s like all previous anger is gone from her face. She’s friendly and upbeat and smiles at me.
I wrap the towel tighter. “Can you stop doing that thing with your face?”
“What?”
“That thing.” I wave at her. “Where you switch your mood.”
There’s a small smirk on Riley’s face. “And why would I do that?”
“Because.” I sit on the edge of the bed. “It's confusing.”
“It’s meant to be confusing.” Riley stares at me. For a second, she looks questioning.
I shift uncomfortably.
“Cali wasn’t my girlfriend.”
She waves me off. “We have a lot to do tomorrow, so we’re gonna get some rest.” She opens the drawer beside the bed and grabs a pair of handcuffs.
Immediately, I stiffen and back away.