Savari squeezes my shoulder and smiles. “I’m glad to hear that. Welcome back, lady.”
11: Do It
I can do this. It’s not too late to start over. It’s time to face my fears and obliterate them.
The bus ride back home seems to take forever and a day. We have another fifteen minutes to go before we’re back at the school, and I’ve already been staring at the back of the seat in front of me for the past ten, procrastinating. On the off chance that an old friend from last year will bail me out of this mess, I text her.
In a bind. Wondering if that spare room you offered me last year is still available.
She instantly responds, but I don’t have the nerve to check her answer knowing it will be a flat out no. Ten minutes easily pass before I snap out of it and hunker down for the bad news.
Sorry, it’s not.
I figured as much, and why would she bother being nice to me now? It’s crazy how quickly my relationship with Finlay has ruined all the other relationships in my life. I toss my phone into my bag and squeeze my eyes shut to keep the tears inside, tilting my head toward the roof of the bus. I settle lower into my seat, wishing I could hide from the world but knowing I have a long way to go before that can happen.
Now what am I supposed to do?
Savari kneels on her seat behind me and peers over my headrest, settling her chin on her hands. “If you’re looking for a ride, you can catch one with me. My car is at the school.”
I wonder how she knows how I’ve found myself up shit creek without a paddle. Maybe she was peeking. “How did you—”
“It’s all in your sigh and the look on your face.” She points at the window next to us. “I saw your reflection.”
I nod, smirking at my own stupidity, wondering if Savari realizes that her offer is just the save I need to keep my head above the water. “Thank you. That would be nice.”
I reach for my phone and search for a number I wish I never entered into my contacts—Finlay’s mother. I show Savari the picture of the devil herself.
“You can do this,” she reminds me as the phone starts to ring.
I put the phone to my ear, take a deep breath, and sit upright, preparing for a fight and getting one. Needless to say, the phone call does not go well.
“I think maybe you should be telling him this,” his mother snaps.
I had already told her three times that I have no intention of talking to him about this right now and that he’s going to need her attention to get through this. “I can’t right now. I just can’t.”
“Funny, when I asked you whether this was serious, you told me it was.”
“It was!” I shout into the phone, growing angry and causing everyone on the bus to stare. I turn toward the window and lower my voice. “This is about as serious as it gets. I’m not coming back.”
I want to rip her heart out, but Savari squeezes my shoulder and that calms my nerves just enough to end the call. “Just tell him.”
I stare at my phone long after the call has ended.
Savari smiles at me. “You’re doing the right thing. It’s going to be a tough go for the next little while, but you’re going to be all right. If you need a place to stay until you get back on your feet, you’re always welcome at my place.”
It sure beats staying at the motel across the road. “Savari, you’re a lifesaver.” But it makes me wonder. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
“Honestly?” she asks, like no one ever calls her out on things like this.
“Yes.”
She half shrugs her shoulders. “You were there for me when I needed you. Before Finlay came around, you were my girl. I see you struggling now and I don’t think it’s fair. I’ve practically walked through life without ever having to worry about where I was going to rest my head at night. You shouldn’t have to either. No one deserves what you’re going through. No one.”
I smile softly, a little envious to be reminded of how perfect her life is. “You’re really offering me a place to stay? Because I might just take you up on that.”
“Was there somewhere else you were planning on going?”
I turn my head toward the floor, knowing she doesn’t understand how dire my situation is. “I was afraid I’d be living in the streets soon, if I didn’t figure something out.”
Savari knows I spent the better part of my teenage years, bouncing from one foster home to the next. I’d milk the people around me until they stopped caring enough for me to stick around. Then I’d move on.
She clasps on to my hand and squeezes, knowing that I’m remembering horrible pictures of my past, although I never got around to telling her any of the details. “You’re staying with me.”
I twist around and glance up at her—my lifeline. “I promise to pay you back just as soon as I can.”
Her hand gesture shows how unconcerned she is about the money. “Don’t worry about it. My parents are paying the bills anyways. I’d never take your money.”
I hand her everything I have in my wallet, which admittedly isn’t much.
She shakes her head and pushes my hand away as the bus pulls to a stop. “Not necessary. Seriously, it’s fine. Put your money away.”
I tuck the bills away and sigh. If she insists, I’m not going to push her. It’s not like I actually have a boatload of cash to throw around. I’m broke, except for the four-hundred dollar scholarship payment I’m expecting next Friday.
When my teammates start to exit the bus, I turn my attention to the parking lot and scan it for a certain car, while praying I won’t find it. Although I didn’t tell Finlay I was returning at this hour, I know he has other ways of tracking me. Mostly, I’m afraid his mother has already spilled the news, in which case he’ll make a beeline for the school—for me.
My stomach bottoms out, empty and scared. I search the parking lot a second time to make sure I haven’t missed anything, but he’s really not here. The heaviness in my chest only grows heavier. Guilt creeps in and eats me alive. Before my mind snaps in two, Savari breaks the silence.
“Are you coming?”
I grab my bag and follow her off the bus. The sky is dark when I look up above me. Clouds are rolling in, setting up for a vicious storm. With the first drop of rain, I slip into Savari’s car and slam the door shut. She takes my bag and throws it into the backseat.
My hands fall to my sides and my palms sink into the soft leather seat. Savari wasn’t lying when she said she has it made.
“Don’t mind the mess,” she says.
I look around the car in search of this mess she speaks of. “What mess, exactly?”
“Isn’t it obvious? My car is desperate for a bath. My dad was supposed to send someone over to vacuum it the other day, but the guy never showed.”
I have to laugh. “You have someone come and clean your car for you?”
She only then realizes how royally spoiled she is. She smiles my way. “You should bring your car over. He can do yours, too.”
I settle back into the chair and crack my window open. “About that.”
“Oh, no. Don’t tell me.”
I scrunch my nose when I look at her. “I sold it. Finlay didn’t like me driving the hunk of junk through the city. Especially after our accident and all.”
“Mmm, hmm. I’m sure that’s exactly why.”
“It was falling apart,” I admit, all the while wondering why I make excuses for the dumb shit. Finlay wanted me all for himself and that meant disconnecting me from others. Taking my car away was his first move. If I had only realized then what he was doing to me, maybe I could have stopped this from happening. I put my window down to cool my sickly warm cheeks.
“It’s not your fault, you know.” Savari flashes a glance at me and then checks her mirror. “He would have done anything to keep you under his wing. You’ll see someday soon that you’re being used. He wants you to believe you’re his crutch, but he’s a master manipulator. You could stand to learn a lesson or two from him.”
I get it—control—it’s all about control. It’s time for me to regain some of that for myself. It’s crazy how with the wind breezing through my hair and rain sprinkling on my cheeks, I feel so free. Even though I now hold the key to my own fate, that feeling won’t last long, as I’ve learned time and time again in my life. I’m not allowed to be happy. That’s just the life dealt to me, and it is time I am reminded of that eternal debt, the hard way—always the hard way.
12: D-Day
I don’t have any clean clothes, and I can’t imagine going to school on Monday wearing Savari’s designer digs. It’s bad enough I’m mooching off her for food and a roof over my head. People will already be talking. The last thing I need is people thinking I left Finlay for my wealthy lesbian lover, although it might be easier to explain things to Finlay that way.
After a long conversation with Savari, we agree it’s probably best to get this out of the way tonight, rather than dragging it out for everyone to witness at school tomorrow. It’s half past eleven when we reach my house—his house. My stomach feels twisted like a pretzel when I get out of Savari’s car with the empty duffle bag. I knew this was going to be hard, but damn, my stomach is cramping, and I’m having second thoughts. I walk up Finlay’s short driveway to the front door of the house.
Do I knock?
A lick of lightning startles me. Savari hops out of the driver’s seat and stands at her open door when she sees how I’ve frozen at the base of the front steps. “Want me to come with?”
I tilt my head toward her and smile. She’s backlit from a street lamp while I’m surrounded in darkness. “I really don’t think you want to do that. This is messy enough as it is.”
“Moral support,” she offers, teasing me slightly.
I’m happy she’s trying to lighten the mood, but the situation is rather serious, and I don’t want to drag her into my problems any further. “No, it’s okay. If you don’t mind, I’ll just run in there real quick and get my things. I shouldn’t be long at all.”
“Okay. I’ll be here,” she answers with a gentle smile. “Don’t let him push you around.”
“I won’t.”
“Good luck?” she adds hesitantly.
Yeah, luck.
When I stand there a second too long, Savari helps me on my way. “Get out of here!”
“I’m going,” I insist, but I struggle to take the first step up the porch.
I’m stronger than the girl I was yesterday.
I turn back to Savari, second guessing my strength. She lifts up both of her thumbs, wearing an exaggerated smile.
I have to do this.
I lift a fisted hand to knock on the door. I need my things for tomorrow. I told Finlay’s mother I was coming over, and she didn’t say no. A quick in and out. That’s all it’ll be.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The door creaks open, and I find his glaring mother on the other side of the open door. Was she listening to me this entire time? She opens the door wide and steps aside without saying much. I kick off my shoes and wait for her to say something more.
“He’s in his room.” She turns to walk away but quickly turns back to me. “If you’re leaving him, make it a nice clean break, will you? You owe him that much.”
I don’t respond to her, because nothing I think to say is very nice. When it appears to be safe to walk away, she turns back again. “Remember, you did this to him.”
I scowl in her direction, saving my strength for Finlay. She takes the hint and goes to hide out in her bedroom, the door closing firmly behind her. With a steadying breath, I walk across the house lit only by the lamp in the front room and the light from the moon. I head right for Finlay’s closed bedroom door and stop just outside of it.
What am I doing here? I shouldn’t have come alone. This is a bad idea.
Standing very still, I convince myself that we can sort this out like grown adults. I’ll tell him I’m leaving, stuff a couple days’ worth of clothes into my duffle bag, and take off. And like that, I’ll be a free woman. Easy peasy.
With renewed determination, I knock on the bedroom door. That’s when all hell breaks loose.
“Come in,” Finlay shouts. His voice is edgy and angry. I can tell he’s been crying.
I get it. He’s upset. I hate that I’m doing this to him but know it’s the only way for me to survive. I swallow the lump in my throat and take another deep breath that doesn’t quite reach my lungs. My heart is racing at an unbearable rate. When I step inside his room, the empty bag I’ve been carrying drops from my trembling fingers.
“Whoa, stop!” I scream, hoping the whole neighborhood will hear and come to my rescue.
“We have to die, Clarisse. It’s the only way for us to be together.”
“No!” All the color flushes out of my face as hot tears rush down my cheeks.
He nods, affirming his plan. “It’s the only way.”
I know I should turn around and run through the open door, but my feet are glued to the old beige carpet, and I remain standing there like a deer in headlights. He lifts the handgun with a straight arm and points it directly at my face.
I don’t move, too scared for what might happen if I do. “No,” I cry, but it doesn’t matter. He’s already made up his mind. I close my eyes for only a second, not liking the feeling of the cold revolver pressing against my forehead.
“I’m going to do it,” he warns me, cocking the gun with a sickening click.
His grip falters. My eyes flit open as he readjusts his finger. I’d already believed him before. Now that I see the rope dangling loosely from the ceiling and the small stool propped beneath it, I know I’m screwed.
“In case I chicken out after you go,” he explains, like it’s a logical explanation.
I notice something else out of place and draw my eyes to the dresser where I once stored my undergarments. The street light glares off a collection of large knives decorating the top of it, laid out in order from smallest to largest.
“Your heart is and will always be mine,” he explains. “I was going to let you pick which way you wanted to go, but now I think I’ll decide.”
My knees give out when I realize what he means. Those knives are meant for me. I crash onto the floor, and it takes me a second to recover. Breathing heavily, I find myself sitting on the dingy carpet that I now see is littered with my things. First, I locate my one and only pair of expensive shoes. I cringe when I realize the dislocated high-heel is buried beneath the clothes I’d purchased with the last of my parents’ credit, every garment ripped into two pieces.
I try to hold in my revulsion, but there are handcuffs dangling from the leather computer chair. The room looks like a sick horror show. Pick your poison.
“I don’t understand,” I say with a hushed voice, filled with emotion. I get on all fours and try to pull myself up to my feet but fail when Finlay punctures my neck with a syringe, knocking me back to the floor.
I grab at my neck. “What the fuck?”
“Don’t move,” is Finlay’s response. He pushes the door shut and, within seconds, my arms feel numb. He leans in close and I wince, afraid he’s ready to begin with the torture.
“Please, Finlay. No,” I cry, smelling a rank odor emanating from his inebriated skin.
How had I not seen this coming?
I catch the flash of the alarm clock when it strikes eleven eleven but just barely through the wet tears. I make a wish, knowing how stupid that is at a time like this. Minutes pass like hours. Had he known I would come to him? I slowly settle back onto my calves. I have to do something. My life cannot end like this, but everything is getting blurry.
“I love you, baby,” he says, right before I feel the cold circular barrel press back into my upturned forehead. I don’t make it easy for him, staring straight into his eyes.
Still, his finger squeezes the tiny metal flange until the gun clicks. My stomach instantly lurches, and I bend forward to gag, but nothing comes out. Finlay has
decided he is going to take my life. He pulled the trigger. I should have died. But reality has a humorous side. The gun must have jammed. Either that or Finlay hasn’t loaded it properly. Regardless, a bullet hasn’t fired, and my face is still wholly intact.
Finlay’s confused now but not half as confused as I am. He looks down the barrel of the gun, slapping the thing, crying into the hole.
“Why?”
He points it at me again, this time at my chest, confirming my greatest fear. “You were supposed to die.”
I barely manage to stumble to my feet, holding both my hands forward in a hesitant surrender. Finlay tries to push the revolver toward me, but this time I fight back. I will not feel that thing touching my skin again. With a screech, I karate chop his arm in a violent attempt to save my face. A single shot discharges from the barrel and another quickly follows. Finlay crashes into me with the force of gravity, taking us both to our knees.
A warm, thick liquid rolls down my face, reminding me that I am all flesh and bones. A dark crimson color has splattered the wall and drips from my eyes like a leaky faucet. Like a flame being snuffed, the revolting sight steals all the oxygen from my lungs and sucks me dry of awareness. I hold my breath, my stomach wavering, with the weight of death tugging me toward the floor. I wait for death to take me, staring into Finlay’s heavy shoulder.
Will I be so lucky?
13: The Rising Sun
I’ve fallen to my knees, staring into Finlay’s shoulder, waiting for him to finish me—or maybe he already has. The dark red blood trickling down my face is warm and pasty, and my body grows heavier in a moment of silence. It takes a second for me to realize that it’s Finlay’s body that has gone limp. When I push his dead weight off of me, he falls to the floor with a thump that would haunt a good part of me for the rest of my days.
With a few blinks, I realize I am mostly unharmed, except for the slurred speech, tingling fingers, and punctured skin. I instantly grab at my neck and then run my fingers over my face, searching for the source of the blood but only smearing it around. The blood on my face is not mine. The brain splatter on the wall is that of Finlay—my love. I slowly swipe a bit from my cheek, too stunned by this turn of events to respond with emotion.
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