The Monster at My Feet novel Chapter 7

The door slammed open, kicking up a gust of wind that sent the curtains billowing into the room.

Sylvie stood in the doorway, breathing slightly heavy, scanning her dorm.

It was exactly as she had left it. Empty.

She walked over and grabbed the assignment she had forgotten on her desk.

Her eyes subtly swept the space one more time, finally landing on the windowsill.

The glass seemed to be open just a fraction wider than before.

Was she imagining things?

She blinked and leaned out the window.

She was on the third floor. A normal person probably wouldn't die from the drop, but they definitely wouldn't walk away unscathed.

Yet, there was no one on the ground below. Not a single footprint or trace.

She secured the latch and sprinted out the door again, rushing toward the academic building.

Down below, concealed deep in the shadows of an overhang, a man gripped his own wrist. His eyes were bloodshot, his body trembling violently from a lethal mix of adrenaline and terror.

A split second later, profound self-loathing eclipsed his feverish gaze. He swallowed a pill dry and dialed a number, his voice rough as gravel.

"Tell Dr. Archer to get here."

-

Dr. Simon Archer sat in the private reception room at the Graves Enterprise headquarters, flipping through his clinical notes.

Everyone in the city knew the head of the Graves family was unstable. He was entirely unpredictable, ruthless, and cold-blooded.

But only Simon knew exactly how psychotic he really was, how close he constantly teetered on the edge of the abyss, and—

How hard he was suppressing it.

The door pushed open.

Seeing the man walk in, Simon's brow furrowed heavily.

"How long has it been since you slept?"

Bloodshot eyes shifted toward him, sluggish and painfully slow.

After a long pause, a hoarse voice replied.

"I don't remember. Two days, maybe more."

Simon's frown deepened.

"I have to handle it. Up the dosage. I cannot let myself lose control like this again."

Simon finally recognized the look in his eyes—it was the distinct cognitive lag and emotional blunting that came from a minor overdose.

"Out of the question." Simon shook his head. "It took an entire year to taper your dosage down to a non-lethal level after you took over the empire. If we spike it now, things will only get worse."

Caspian's face was completely devoid of emotion. "It won't kill me."

Simon sighed. "...If you're willing, you could tell me what this new variable is."

Caspian lowered his gaze, remaining dead silent.

"Fine," Simon said. "Then why don't we handle it the way you usually do?"

"You have the power to make this variable disappear permanently. Eliminate the trigger, and you won't relapse. Why don't you just—"

"Simon." Caspian cut him off sharply. He looked up, every word dripping with ice. "Do not make me repeat myself."

Simon stiffened. It felt as if a venomous snake had just reared its head, baring its fangs right in his face, reeking of death.

Even though he considered himself Caspian's friend, he was still terrified of him.

Exhaling a long breath, Simon jotted down a few notes. "Alright. I'll switch your meds, but I can only give you a week's supply. I'll be back next week to check on you. The new formula might cause cognitive delays, emotional numbness, and difficulty communicating."