Gary Adam, Gary Adam

The Gray Serial Killer Book One

Horror

I take a deep breath. It strikes me hard that I have to remember myself. “Lake, my name is Lake.” I nod, happy that I can finally give her an answer. “Okay, Lake, do you remember anything that happened? Anything at all?” Her body language shifts; something about her demeanor strikes me as odd, as if she’s trying to hide something. Happened? What is she talking about? The last thing I remember is—What do I remember? I bring my hand to my face. It slides subconsciously to my ear to silence the ringing. No good. There are flecks of red on the back of my hand, extending over the sleeve of my shirt. Holy crap, is that blood? Is that my blood? Holy crap. “I don’t—I don’t remember how I got here. Where am I?” She sighs. I want to apologize to her. I know I probably sound like a crazy person, but I can hardly think straight. “Okay, Lake, you’re in a gas station. There has been an incident. I’m going to need you to come with me, all right?” That’s a funny request. “Why? What’re you doing, kidna


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