In fact, I needed to keep him away from Teagan and his mom and anyone else he might hurt, too. The less he was around, the better — that much seemed certain. And if I hadn’t already come to this conclusion on my own, the message I found carved into the wall that morning would have made it abundantly clear: No duh, I thought, wanting to punch the wall. Then again, that might only “make things worse.” As far as clues went, the messages sucked. Instead of proclaiming YOU ARE NOT WHO YOU THINK YOU ARE, why didn’t the last message just tell me that Dan was a rapist? Then I wouldn’t have been an idiot about trying to be with Cat. A fortune cookie would have been more helpful. Once I took a shower and calmed down some, I thought about the new message again. Given that whatever I did, or Dan did, would make things worse, the best course of action seemed to not “do” anything. Which is easier said than done. After shaving, I rummaged through the medicine cabinet and swallowed several allergy pills with a “May Cause Drowsiness”
