by Nina Lincoln
“Okay,” I say softly. “So, what are we going to do?”
*****
After our intense discussion, Colt drops me at my car, follows me home, and then heads to his own.
Laying on the couch, I stare at the ceiling tiredly. I'm angry that Colt couldn’t stay. Once again, my fan is dictating my life, and I’m tired of it. I’m ready for all of this to be over, but I'm stuck with no clue as to who he is. Technically this could go on for years!
Despite my amateurish sleuthing efforts, I’ve only uncovered more bullshit about the devious students around me, none of which is pointing a neon sign at any one person.
However, the depravity surrounding me is appalling.
Nate’s clearly obsessed with winning, but that doesn’t necessarily connect to me, but more his enmity with the other guys. It could very well be Ben, but if so, who was behind the blaring light in the gymnasium?
Seems far too fantastical to create such a scenario to what, throw me off the scent? And if it’s a complete stranger, why hide your face?
Gah. This only leads me in more circles. It has to be someone I know, but who has the power to control all these other students? And how many more does he have under his thumb?
Fuck, it could be all my friends.
With a shiver, I turn my thoughts away and back to today. It was amazing to feel him again and touch him, knowing he didn’t lose interest in me. I know there’s been a lot of bullshit between us, but the way we feel has to mean more because being without him was worse. When he’s not here, my heart feels cold, and only he makes me feel alive.
I can’t imagine sneaking around, but I’ll take it if it’s what I can get. I never want to feel the way I did without him ever again.
I guess we have no choice, with everything so up in the air, but it’s frustrating and scary. I’m walking a perpetual tightrope, and I don’t know how to get the fuck off without falling, and this never-ending state of fear makes me feel helpless, which reminds me of my dad.
The irony isn’t lost on me, I escaped my dad, who was the worst of my fears before this, and now my fan is just another fucked up version, with a need to control and terrorize.
Grumpy, I turn over on my side and stare at the television blindly. I should be doing homework, but I don’t fucking care about my studies when I can’t sleep, can’t function. There are times when I’m wholly immobilized by terror, wondering when the final showdown is going to happen and hoping I make it out alive.
It’s eating at my insides and tearing at my sanity. How much more can I take before I go completely insane? Something’s got to give, I just hope it isn't me.
I’m dozing sleepily when my phone buzzes and jumping out of my skin, I sit up with a gasp and clutch my chest, glancing around frantically.
Since there’s nothing fucking here, I sigh with relief and rub my forehead. I’m so fucking tired that I’m now delirious.
The phone buzzes again, dancing across the table, and I grab it up, opening it absently, still grim in the reality of my mental state. I'm so on edge, I’m jumpy, and it’s taking a painful toll.
Dread curls through me when I see it’s from an unknown number, and blindly I stare at the fucking notification before cautiously opening the message with trembling fingers. Fuck.
At first, I stare unseeing at the image, before it slowly comes into focus and gasping, I drop the phone, covering the cry hovering on my lips.
Fuck me. Please let me be wrong.
Picking up the phone again, I confirm with horror that my fan sent me a picture of something in a thousand lifetimes I never needed to see.
It’s Sarah, with her hands tied behind her back. She’s savagely beaten, her eyes black, her neck covered in a kaleidoscope of purple and blue bruises as she stares at the camera dully, the life beaten from her eyes.
Wherever she is, it’s dark, and she’s partially in shadow.
My gorge rises, and I barely make it to the kitchen sink before I lose what’s left of my dinner, tears dripping down my face as I heave and sob helplessly.
She’s going to die if she’s not found and soon. Fuck there’s a good chance I’m going to die.
How can I fight against this? It’s insanity. I’m doomed. I have no ammunition against crazy. None.
Wiping my mouth with a moan, I lean my forehead against the sink and take slow, shuddering breaths.
Calm down, Finn. Sarah needs you now.
Standing quickly, I grab the counter when the world spins briefly, and biting back another surge of bile, I stumble back to the couch and collapse against the cushions.
The phone buzzes again, and I flinch, sucking in a shaky breath.
“Fuck!” I mutter, angry at my hesitance.
I’ll not let this shit control me - not through fear or anything else. I’m done. He can go fuck himself. Grabbing the phone, I stare at the new message.
If you don’t stop with your Nancy Drew shit, this is going to be you
Typing out a response, I stop myself and take a deep breath. Be smarter than him, Finn. But fuck I want to tell him to go to hell so badly.
Instead, I close out the app and pull up Colt’s number.
He answers on the second ring, “Finn? I thought we agreed-“
In a gruff voice, I whisper, “I got another message.”
“When? Where?” I can hear the frustration in his tone and the same helplessness I feel. Colt’s as tired of the game as I.
“On my phone. Colt...it’s Sarah.”
“Fuck! Hold tight. I’ll be right there.”
“I don’t think you should. It’s dangerous,” I insist, but he’s not listening because I can hear the sound of clothes rustling as he dresses.
“Colt?”
He must have either set the phone down or pulled it from his ear because he doesn’t respond, but I can still hear the background sounds.
“Colt?”
“Yeah, I’m here. Hold on while I step outside.”
*****
Colt stays on the line with me until he reaches my house, hanging up when I let him in through the back door. He only agreed to park two streets down in his haste, and this only because I begged him.
As soon as he’s inside, I enter the alarm and collapse into his arms, losing my shit, half-hysterical as sobs rack my body.
Stroking my back soothingly, Colt holds me until I subside before saying quietly, “Show me.”
I pull up the image with trembling fingers, and he looks it over grimly before pulling me into his arms again. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I say against his chest.
But I’m not, I may never be, we’re all lying to ourselves at this point. My fan, most of all. If he thinks I’ll ever love him or agree to come together, he’s got another fucking thing coming.
“What do we do now?” I ask, pulling back to look at his beautiful face.
I wish he were hugging me for any other reason, which does nothing to temper my rage. At this point, my fan should be wary of showing his face because I’m liable to kill the fucker.
“We’ve got to go on the offensive somehow,” I mutter.
“Agreed. The police haven’t exactly been much help.”
Scoffing, I say, “He’s always two steps ahead. If I weren’t convinced it’s a student, I’d think it was a damn police officer.”
Colt tips his head to the side, a contemplative expression crossing his face.
“What?” I ask.
“Well, I don’t know. It’s just…”
“What?”
“Nate’s dad is a cop,” he says grimly. “Fuck! I never thought I’d be considering him as a fucking psycho stalker!”
“Yeah, well, no matter how this turns out, I have a feeling we’re gonna be surprised. Tiffany mentioned Nate.”
“When?”
“Earlier actually, she cornered me at school to warn me off. Said I should stay away from you.”
“Why didn't you tell me?” he asks, frustrated.
/> “Because there was too much other shit, I forgot,” I mutter.
He turns away, glancing at the ceiling, and uneasiness slides down my spine.
“Why is this a big deal?”
“It’s not. Tiffany’s just fucking unstable, and I worry about what she might do,” he says, but he’s still turned away. Classic Colt evasion.
“What aren’t you telling me, Colt?”
Sighing, he turns back to me, “She just said some awful stuff, Finn. About you. About us. I didn’t figure it was worth worrying you more.”
“What did she say?”
“That if I didn’t stay away, it would go badly for both of us. That this dick, whoever he is, is insane. That she thinks Sarah is dead and she’s next. She actually wondered if it wouldn’t be better to hurt you herself, but she’s scared of what he would do to her.”
“Hurt me?”
What do I have to worry about Tiffany now too? Insanity. I’m going to lose my fucking mind.
“Listen, if you see her, go the opposite direction,” he says, grabbing my shoulders and staring at me intently.
“That should be easy to do,” I say - no argument from me.
“Now as to the texts. We have to report them to the police, but maybe we can do something first,” he says.
“What?”
“Well, what about Teddy? He’s good with computers. I saw a movie once, where the characters traced the photos back to specific locations based on data in their phones.”
“Teddy? Um, maybe,” I say doubtfully.
I don’t want to involve him, but maybe he’s my only hope. I mean, he is good around technology, but all the warnings make me wary of risking my friends. It’s bad enough Colt is here, now to risk Teddy too?
“But if Teddy can do it, can’t the police?”
“Yes,” he says quietly, “but this will give us a head start.”
“A head start to do what?” I demand, my heart skipping a beat.
“Track the fucker down,” he says with a deadly gleam in his eyes.
“Colt, he’s dangerous.”
“Yeah, well, so am I.”
Chapter Eleven
I argue with Colt to no avail as we make plans to meet Teddy at his house. I’m still hesitant to involve him, especially when he’s been so weird lately, but I'm ready to move forward if this will end the saga.
But Colt better believe he won’t be going on some vigilante spree because whatever we discover goes straight to the police. Let them handle it.
I’m unwilling to lose him over this, and I think I’d die if something happened to him, especially over me.
Teddy and Ramie live in a small home with a sad front yard, a sagging porch, and a broken porch light. I’ve never been here before, so it's with a good dose of curiosity that I glance around when Ramie answers the door and lets us inside.
She greets us with a feeble smile, her eyes tired and her face pale in the dim light.
“You okay?” I ask as we pass a tiny living room, where a man, I presume to be her dad, snores on the couch, the distinct odor of sour alcohol, making my nose twitch.
“Yeah, just been a little under the weather,” she says dismissively as she leads us down the hall.
In the last bedroom on the left, Teddy’s tapping away at his computer, a single light glowing above him. His room is small and messy, with papers and clothes piled in every corner.
He turns when we enter, giving me a small smile that’s nowhere near his usual exuberance, and my heart aches, but I don’t know what to do. Maybe it’s me. Perhaps the stress is giving off vibes or something.
“Teddy,” I say, kissing him on the cheek. “Thank you so much for doing this.”
His cherubic grin makes an appearance, and my heart warms at the familiar smile. Teddy brings me solace, and I miss it when we’re off. In some ways, I need him as much as I need Colt.
“Let me see the goods,” he says, rubbing his hands together.
Plunking my phone into his hand, we crowd around him eagerly until he looks between Colt and me and frowns. “This is going to take a while. And I don’t need you hovering over me.”
He urges us to the door with a pointed look, and I can see Colt gearing up to fight, so I grab his arm and lead him from the room.
Ramie disappeared, so we find our way out back to their little patio, which is just as sad as the front, with dead, withered plants sitting in pots beside the door, the stalks brittle and dry.
The tiny yard ends before it begins with smelly, dank furniture torn apart by the weather surrounding a fire pit long out of use.
Colt pulls me to the concrete steps, and I sit down beside him, staring up at the stars.
We’re quiet for a moment before he says, “I told my dad about what’s been going on. I think he’s going to hire a private investigator.”
Wow. Momentarily speechless, I reach out and grab his hand, saying softly, “Thank you. I know that must have been hard.”
“I’d do anything to keep you safe,” he says, clutching my hand tightly.
Melting at his passionate speech, I lean into him, happy when he pulls me into his side. It feels so right. I know this is where I belong, and of course, I feel a tingle race through me, but I ignore it for now.
Since he’s brought up the topic of his dad, I can’t help but ask, “Why do you hate her so much? Her. The first wife. I mean, she’s as much a victim as your mom?”
Colt’s expression drops to ice, and I shiver under the change. It’s a reminder that his story is just as painful and sordid as mine. I should tread carefully, for some wounds are more lethal than others.
“That bitch isn’t a victim of anything. She’s a fucking psychopath,” he says.
“What do you mean?”
“She doesn’t care about Dad having a second family. She never has. I think she’s known from the beginning. As long as she controls the outcome, she’s content. It’s, I don’t know, it’s like she enjoys holding this over my dad's head. It’s another way of making him do what she wants.”
“That’s weird.”
I can’t imagine. Maybe, even though I don’t like Colt’s dad one bit, I can understand why he sought out someone else to love - because his wife is such a bitch. It doesn’t excuse the entire situation, but it goes a long way to explaining it.
“She told me once to keep my mouth shut and do as I’m told, or she’d ban my dad from us. If I don’t conform, my mom and sister get punished,” he says bitterly.
“That’s sad. But Colt, this isn’t your problem. You can’t live your life worried about her or your mom. They’ve both made their own choices.”
“Maybe,” he says, looking away with a heartbroken expression, “anyway, I just hate it when Mom’s upset, you know?”
“Yeah,” I say sadly. “I know. My mom stayed with my dad for me. How do I get past that? I mean, she died for me!”
“Finn, your mom loved you. Like I said, people do strange things for love,” he says with a wry twist to his mouth, but there’s a strange desperation behind his eyes that worries me.
“Colt-“
“Anyway, along with rich bitch came Buck, who’s a spoiled little bitch. When I found out about the whole situation, I lost my shit. It wasn’t pretty, and Buck was there all the while rubbing salt in the wound. It didn’t help when he came around and treated my sister terribly. He’s just like his mother. Wouldn’t surprise me if he kicks puppies or some shit.”
Not surprising, Buck is clearly a jerk, but it’s too bad because they could have been there for each other over the whole fucked up situation.
“Is Buck your only other sibling?” I ask tentatively.
I rationalize my hesitation to reveal what I overheard about Dirk by convincing myself whatever Sarah said that night at the amusement park could have been a lie.
“I have a sister,” he mutters.
Okay, not a lie. Now what? Do I hurt him further by telling him that Dirk dated this other sister at one time
or another? To what end?
It won’t make the situation better, and Colt’s dealt with enough drama to last a lifetime. No, this isn’t my secret to tell, at least not now.
“Why is she, um, Buck’s mom so worried about what you do?”
Sighing, he stares into the sky. “When I first found out, I was angry. I went to their house and confronted him. She was there. She didn’t want me to ruin the facade they have going and warned me off…”
“And?” I ask, sensing there’s more.
Shrugging, he turns away, and my stomach sinks. Here comes another zinger.
“She found out about Fight Club.”
“Okay?”
“She’s a sick bitch, Finn. She blackmailed me...into fighting because I don’t know, she made money off it. Or more likely, the bitch liked knowing she could make me do whatever she wanted,” he mutters.
“Wait? What? You’ve been fighting because of her?” I exclaim. Okay, now I hate the bitch.
“Yes, I didn’t have a choice,” he says heavily.
“That’s insane! Didn't you say she’s rich? How much money could she truly get from Fight Club?”
“Like I said, I think she enjoys the thrill, I don't know,” he says, grimly.
“But-“
“It is what it is, Finn, but I’ve refused to be her little toy, and now she’s angry.”
“What are you going to do?” I whisper.
“Nothing,” he says with a grim shrug, “I’m done playing her sick games.”
Mulling it over silently, I say, knowing he’s reeling under the painful truths he’s already revealed, “I’m proud of you.”
With a small smile, he kisses me on the head but doesn’t comment.
“I got another letter from my dad,” I murmur, sensing Colt’s need to change the subject.
“Oh? What did it say?” he asks, grabbing my chin gently and pulling my eyes up to his.
Warmth fills my chest at the relief I see behind his eyes. It’s a sign of his trust that he admitted this to me, and I will forever cherish this moment.
“The usual, it’s all about him. He doesn’t even see how much I hate him,” I say.
“Finn, people like that only care about themselves. I’m sorry, though. You deserve a dad who cares about you.”