Game Over (Whithall University Book 2) Read online

  Game Over

  Whithall University

  Book Two

  By Lisa Helen Gray

  ©

  Copyrights reserved

  2018

  Lisa Helen Gray

  Cover Art by Cassy Roop @ Pink Ink Designs

  Editing by Stephanie Farrant @ Bookworm Editing Services

  No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written consent from the publisher, except in the instance of quotes for reviews. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded, or distributed via the Internet without the publisher’s permission and is a violation of the international copyright law, which subjects the violator to severe fines and imprisonment.

  This book is licensed for your enjoyment. E-book copies may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share with a friend, please buy an extra copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places and events are all product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business or establishments is purely coincidental.

  Out of the darkness, comes light.

  PROLOGUE

  My shoes beat along the paved pavement, following behind at a healthy pace. She doesn’t 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, like something was wrong with me. Now, I know I was right. I hadn’t been 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 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—her room number is on the back of most toilets.

  She’s just that easy.

  I jiggle the handle of her door, 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 when I enter, 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 is 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.

  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 I 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 her 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 inhale 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 once again 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.

  Unable 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, 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.

  Just as the blood vessels in her eyes pop, I lift the knife out of my back pocket, before plunging it into her stomach. I do it again when the warmth of her blood runs through my fingers, then once more to feel that rush.

  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 handywork. I wipe the knife on my leg, nodding my approval.

  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, before picking up the brush on the desk and 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. I growl, anger at Christie piercing my chest.

  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 and covering the blood seeping from her wounds. 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 the last moments of her 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 leave Christie to fester.

  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?

  CHAPTER ONE

  Life at Whithall hall has changed drastically over the course of two weeks. Logan and Jamie were sent to prison, with no chance of parole, for the series of rapes they committed.

  What has everyone on edge and still whispering are the events that happened the day they were sentenced.

  Christie, a girl who was partly involved in incidents that happened on Halloween—when we took down Logan and Jamie—was murdered. She was found in her dorm room by her roommate, stabbed to death. It was shocking to us all.

  The university closed down for a week to have new security measures installed. They made sure the university was securely shut after her murder, meaning no classes and no staying on uni grounds. Those who couldn’t get home were given a place to stay at a local hotel, funded by the university.

  Since me and my best friend lived in our own flats near the university, we didn’t really have to leave. But much to our dismay, our parents had other ideas, since we had a week off for the holidays.

  Low’s mum, I could understand. Her daughter was brutally assaulted by one of her best friends and then managed to take him down, thanks to a group of us. They also had a tight relationship, something I’d never had with my mum or dad.

  My dad worked a lot, and although our relationship is better now that my mother is no longer in the picture, his reasons for me to come home so urgently were puzzling. Before coming to Whithall, he spent the majority of his life in his office or at work.

  What surprised me the most was that he stayed at home to spend time with me, even if it was only for an hour or two.

  Mel, Willow’s mum, and my dad arranged for us to have a meal a few days after we returned home. They wanted us to sit down and to talk to us about something important. Due to Low getting her nightmares again, it was cancelled.

  She had them after her attack, but with time, they dwindled. Being back at our parents’ homes, though… She started getting them again, tenfold. I tried everything to help my friend. I stayed at hers, or her mine, and slept in the same bed to try and help soothe her tortured mind, but I think being back there was hurting her. The memories she had once fondly shared with Logan tarnished everything around her. Her mum, Mel, had thought ahead and tried to remove pictures and other things of him from their house, but there’s only so much you can try to erase. Memories are harder.

  After a week and a half, I couldn’t take any more. Seeing my friend in emotional torment stirred the guilt I already felt and deserved. I’ll never be able to apologise enough to her. My part in her attack could have been prevented, and for that, I’ll always feel terrible for the pain I’ve caused her.

  Night after night I’ve listened to her scream out for help, pleading with her tormentor to stop. I never spoke about what she said in her nightmares, not wanting to bring it up, but the minute she was fully conscious I only had to look in her eyes to know she knew she’d had another nightmare. She would lash out at me in her sleep, her grip tightening on me painfully.

  I had nearly given in three days ago and called her boyfriend, Cole, for help. She seems to do better when she’s around him. He helped her, first as a neighbour, then as a friend, and now as a boyfriend. They’re relationship has blossomed into something beautiful.

  She made me promise not to call him, telling me he needed the alone time with his family. I knew she felt guilty for occupying his time, but Cole doesn’t mind and neither does his family. They love her. But then again, who wouldn’t. Willow is the greatest friend anyone could wish for. It’s me who keeps letting her down.

  When we woke this morning, I told her we needed to come home, that being back at our parents’, where all her memories with Logan were, wasn’t helping her recovery. She declined, but the look in her eyes was answer enough. She was suffering and she needed her safe haven; she needed Cole. By dinner time, I had finally convinced her. I was no longer able to take in her tired, red-rimmed eyes. It was breaking my heart.

  We planned to tell our parents together, but with both of them at work, we decided to drop in on them separately at work to say goodbye. Only, when we arrived at my house to grab my stuff, we caught the both of them together on the sofa.

  Something I wish I could erase from my mind.

  Which is why we hightailed it to my room, packed my bags, and got out of there, ignoring their pleas to explain.

  There wasn’t any explaining needed. It was obvious what they were doing.

  Now we’re back home, where we can take the time to forget the whole day.

  I shiver, running my eyes over our brightly lit kitchen. It’s late, and I didn’t think Rosie and Becca would be up, but the lights in the front room are on too.

  We walk in, finding them both on the sofa, Becca with her arm around a crying Rosie. We met Rosie and Becca when we were finding proof of what Logan was doing. At the time, we thought it was just him, but that day, we found Rosie badly beaten and scared after having spent the weekend in Jamie’s room being abused.

  I drop my bag, rushing over to the two girls who have become best friends to me. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

  Willow sits on the opposite side of Becca, leaning around her so she can look at Rosie’s tear-streaked face.

  “Hey, what’s up?” she asks softly.

  Becca gives
us a small smile, but I can see the anger brewing behind her chocolate-brown eyes. “Rosie called her parents tonight.” Her eyes drift back to her friend, pity filling them.

  Before we left, both girls still hadn’t told their parents about what had happened to them. We’ve managed to get both into a group counselling session—our friend Jordan, who runs a blog, organised it all, and even some one-on-one sessions for Rosie, who went through the most. Neither wanted their families to find out, and they never told us why.

  Rosie’s found the sessions hard and can only go if Becca is with her.

  “What happened?” I ask, taking her cold, slim hand in mine. Rosie’s lost weight since her attack, a lot of it. The photos they shared with me and Willow, showed the girl to be healthy and happy. The girl in front of me is broken and a mess. And rightly so.

  Rosie looks up, wiping her cheeks. “We thought it was time to tell them what happened.”

  “Bringing up those memories must have been hard for you,” I comment.

  She shakes her head, her eyes brimming with more tears as she looses a forlorn laugh. “It was, but that’s not why I’m upset. Our parents—my parents are…”

  “What she’s trying to tell you is that our parents are religious. Rosie’s are catholic and have strong beliefs when it comes to what they think is right or wrong. My parent’s only attend church every Sunday, but Rosie’s… they preach it. They think what happened to her is God’s will and He’s punishing her for her sins.” Becca’s last words come out with a bite, her face stormy and red with anger. I don’t blame her, my own anger is rising and I don’t get mad, like, ever.

  How could her parents believe that? You only have to look at Rosie to know she’s everything that is good in the world. She wouldn’t hurt a fly.

  “Why on earth would they say such a thing?” Willow grits her teeth, looking away so she doesn’t show her anger.

  “You know what they are saying isn’t true, don’t you?” I ask Rosie, squeezing her hand.

  Rosie nods. “I do, but hearing it still hurts. It’s why we decided to move so far away to attend university. Becca’s parents aren’t like mine; they’re kind and understanding. They know I’m gay and don’t see me any differently. They didn’t try to make me change or lock me in a basement until God himself saw me cleansed.”