Later that night, the silence of the master wing was broken only by the soft click of the bedroom door. Dahmer Lukas walked inside, carrying a large silver tray loaded with a warm, rich supper. His silver eyes immediately locked onto the bed where Malcolm lay beneath the blankets.
Malcolm was awake. His mind had been racing for the past hour, a turbulent storm of fury, shame, and utter disbelief crashing around in his head. But the moment he heard Dahmer's quiet footsteps crossing the room, he shut his eyes tightly. He forced his breathing to go slow and deep, pretending to be trapped in a heavy, lifeless sleep. He couldn't face this. He didn't want to look at the monster who had completely flipped his world upside down.
Dahmer walked over with silent steps and placed the heavy tray onto the side table. The rich aroma of the food filled the air, but the room remained freezing cold. Dahmer stood over the bed, his shadow falling across Malcolm's face.
