by Lily White
“Why?” He bellowed again, not giving me time for an answer before he added, “Was killing my parents not good enough for you? Destroying my sister until she doesn’t know one day from the next. Was that not enough? Why couldn’t you just leave me alone and be happy with what you already have? I’m nothing to you! Nothing! I own nothing. I am nothing. You already made me nothing!”
His fist slammed against the wall and I flinched, expected him to jump up and storm over to hurt me, but he didn’t move. My eyes were clenched shut, but I didn’t hear the rolling thunder of his steps approaching.
Settling enough to gain minimal control over my voice, I forced out, “I didn’t do this. I didn’t want to do this. It was Jack.”
“It was Jack,” he repeated quietly, his words tumbling forth on a whisper of disbelief. “That’s funny because every time it was Jack doing something to destroy my life, you were the one right beside him.”
Sobs wracked me, my entire body shaking over the mattress as pain spilled from my heart, beating and pulsing just as bad as the burn along my cheekbones and the hammers still pounding against my skull. “I didn’t want to be there. Jack was shitty to me, too. He was a bully. Not just to you, Holden, but everyone.”
“That still doesn’t answer the question. Why, Michaela? Why come looking for me at all? There was nothing in life I had left to give. Just my sister. Just her. And now you took that away, too. I don’t know where she’ll go without me. I don’t know what will happen to her. Why? Why did you have to do this?”
His words broke apart as soon as he mentioned Delilah. She was alive. He’d said as much. But where was she? She couldn’t be in the house right now. She would have heard Holden yelling. Wouldn’t she come in here to check and see what was going on?
Without an answer to give him, I reverted back to a captive begging. “Please let me go.”
“I can’t. Don’t you understand that? I know you’re used to skating by in life, protected by your money and your expensive lawyers, but I don’t have that. So before I get carted off to jail for defending myself against you, I need to buy enough time to figure out what to do with my sister. I need to figure out how I can take care of her from prison. Do you have any suggestions for me, Michaela? What would you do if you were me? Go running to mommy and daddy? Let them make it all go away?” He barked out a humorless laugh, his voice softening, “I can’t even do that. You took them from me two years ago.”
Gaining control of myself wasn’t easy. My willpower was a slippery noodle bending and sliding to keep my hands from getting a good grasp on it. My strength was ebbing and flowing, there one minute, dragging me out to sea the next. I was trapped in place, the silence buzzing against my ears as static and white noise. “I can help you, Holden. I saw what Jack did. I know he attacked you first. I can tell them what you did was in self-defense.”
Another bark of sound. “Yeah. Sorry, but that’s not something I can rely on. You didn’t have a voice to protest when Jack was alive, what would make me think you’d have one now? As soon as you’re safe and sound, hiding behind your family’s power and money, you’ll go along with whatever they want you to say. You’re weak as fuck, Michaela.”
“I know the truth,” I pled.
“The truth doesn’t matter. It never does for men like me. We’re disposable. An easy answer to lock away so the police look like heroes and Jack Thorne will be remembered as the helpless victim against a crazy freak who wanted revenge for an accident. Your truth is meaningless. It’s as weak as you. To everybody that matters, it’s an inconvenience that will be shoved aside and forgotten.”
Holden wasn’t yelling anymore, he was rambling, talking so fast that I had to focus on each word just to ensure I didn’t miss one and lose track. It felt like I was spiraling right beside him, a picture being painted in front of me that revealed the ugly reality of life, the differences between people born into different types of families. While he ranted, I cried, absorbing every word, every insult, every heartbreaking truth he was shoving down my throat.
“And now, now I get to add a few more felonies to the pile. But hey, I guess it comes to me naturally. A trashy guy from a trashy neighborhood who was lucky enough to sit in the same classrooms as people like you. So while you lie there and cry, I’ll be out dealing with this problem before the sun comes up tomorrow morning. I’ll be figuring out what to do with a sister who can’t take care of herself. I’ll be coming to terms with the fact that you succeeded in taking it all. You broke me down until I was small like you. Does that make you happy?”
“No!” I cried out. “I’m not happy!”
“Good! At least I’m not the only one this time. I’m sorry to inconvenience you, princess, but I need time to make some last minute arrangements before I get hauled off and stuck in a prison cell to rot away the rest of my life.”
Standing up, he pulled the ripped jacket off his shoulders, dropped it to the floor and kicked it away. His hoodie was next, the stained garment deserted as he stood in a t-shirt and dirty pants. My eyes widened at the size of him, the sheer force of him, buckets filled with terror being poured inside me until I was saturated and bloated, my tears soaking the blanket beneath me. “Please don’t hurt me!”
His head snapped my direction. “Hurt you? Why would I hurt you? I’m not your psycho boyfriend.”
With that he stalked over to tie the gag back over my mouth before disappearing into his closet. Emerging from the shadowed interior, he carried a clean pair of jeans in his hand, a clean hoodie slung over his shoulder. He didn’t look at me or say a word as he left his room, slamming the door shut behind him.
Unable to move, I was left to swallow down my fear, to simmer in the cold anger Holden had left behind in his wake.
There was nothing I could do in this situation, so I just buried my face into his blanket and cried.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Holden
I’ve always found it odd how emotions could beat on you harder than another man’s fist, could weigh on you heavier than a thousand large stones, could tear you apart faster than a hundred scraping claws digging deep beneath the skin.
Emotions should be weightless, something without mass, a non-entity that doesn’t have shape or form because they are a subjective idea. They can’t be measured or appropriated. They are a figment of a human’s imagination that pours into our veins as chemicals and hormones, making us feel something that isn’t actually there. Emotions are ghosts, incarnations that overpower us when we can’t even see them to fight back.
Walking down the street at two in the morning, I sank beneath the weight of those emotions, was knocked to the side by the force of them, was being hollowed out by their cruel, punishing fingers. My hands were tucked deep inside the pockets of my black hoodie, my head hanging down despite the sharp tension in my neck. Dragging a thousand pound bolder behind me would have been easier than what I was strolling down the street to do. Two more felonies: hiding a body and getting rid of a car.
While Michaela was passed out on my bed for over an hour, I had time to think about what I would do, my mind spinning through every scenario and coming to the ultimate conclusion that I had to buy time. Delilah would shatter completely if she saw me carted off in handcuffs, she’d lose what was left of her fragile mind because she would know, deep down, that she was helpless and alone. I had no choice but to get her somewhere she would have help, even if my Uncle Scott was old and feeble. Maybe his adult daughters could take care of Deli. Maybe one of them would know what to do.
My jaw ached from how hard my teeth were clenched, my frustration pouring out of me with each heavy step down the road. By the time I reached the woods where I knew Jack’s lifeless body lay, I wanted to rage against everything around me, wanted to knock down trees and set fire to this life that had done nothing by shred me from the inside out.
Pulling a flashlight from my pocket, I swung the beam in Jack’s direction to find him exactly where I’d left him, lying limp like the
trash and debris that surrounded his body. The woods weren’t thick, but they were long, and only two paths had been trampled down, the rest of the area was wild with overgrown bushes and untrimmed trees. Breath billowed out of me as I stomped toward him, his hands cold and limp in mine as I dragged him farther from the trail and dumped him near a grouping of bushes that would conceal him from easy sight.
He wouldn’t stay hidden forever, the smell alone would prevent that from happening, but I hoped the vagabonds that traveled this path would ignore the obvious, that they would go about their way and mind their own business because calling the police wasn’t an option.
After searching the grounds and finding my beanie, I patted Jack’s pockets and heard the crunch of keys. I pulled them free and went in search of his car, thanking God that I actually knew a guy who could take care of it.
Leonard Cramer wasn’t a bad guy, per se, but he was shady and he ran a junkyard twenty miles outside of Tranquil Falls. I’d worked odd jobs for him in my tenth and eleventh grade years. He’d sold me the junker car I’d scrounged and saved for in high school and I was pretty sure he would know what to do to scrap a car that nobody wanted found.
I won’t lie and claim driving Jack’s car wasn’t fun, and I would have floored the gas pedal to eat the twenty miles between my town and the junkyard if I wasn’t scared to death of getting caught. Making sure to drive at the speed limit despite the way the car wanted to be opened wide and driven as it was intended, I pulled into Leonard’s yard at a little past three in the morning, his three Rottweilers charging the front gate, snapping and snarling for the unexpected visit.
Lights flicked on inside his small trailer, the door bursting open just before he yelled at the dogs to calm down. Obedient, they sniffed in my direction one last time before sauntering away to go back to their doghouses.
Wrapped in a robe, Leonard slowly meandered his way to the front gate, a gun in hand just in case I was a stranger lurking and attempting to steal something.
“Who’s out there?” He peered into the darkness, his eyes widening a fraction when he recognized my face. “Holden?”
“It’s me,” I called out in response as I tucked my hands into my pockets and walked against the freezing wind that was whipping through the junkyard.
With a voice laced in suspicion, he asked, “Do I want to know why you’re at my front gate at three in the morning with a car that costs more than one hundred thousand dollars?”
“No, sir. You don’t. But I was wondering if you want the car.”
Brows rising up his head, he puckered his lips and whistled. “I take it this isn’t your car and you have a good reason for it to disappear?”
“Something like that,” I answered with chattering teeth.
He rocked back on his heels and eyed me for a few minutes, but the dollar signs he saw in a car like Jack’s must have shoved his curiosity to the side. “I can take care of it, and since that implicates me, you know I’ll keep my mouth shut.”
Relief flooded me. “That’s what I was hoping for.”
“Toss me the keys, Holden, and we’ll pretend this night never happened.”
Approaching the gate, I flung the keys over the top of it, Leonard easily snatching them out of the air with one hand, his hairline much farther back than I remembered. “How are you getting back home from here?”
I blew out a big breath, resignation settling inside me as I scrubbed the back of my neck with my hand to ease some of the tension. “I guess I’m walking.”
“In this weather? I don’t think so. Give me a minute to get dressed. We’ll stow the car and I’ll drive you back in my truck.”
The drive back to Tranquil Falls was silent, and by four thirty, Leonard dropped me off at the border into town. He waved as he drove off, the hour or so he’d given me worth every penny he made off the encounter. I trudged down the dark streets, keeping to the shadows, not too worried that anyone would see me and remember. In this area of the neighborhood, people had learned to ignore other people’s business and were good about keeping to themself.
I walked inside my house at a few minutes past five, the sun just beginning to rise over the horizon to cast the sky in streaks of color, a sunlit fire in the distance as the Earth continued to turn through time and space.
The first place I went after slamming the front door closed was to my room to check on Michaela. With the hit she’d taken to her face, I was worried she could have a concussion, but not enough that I was willing to seek out medical help just yet. She stirred when I opened the door, her swollen eyes blinking open.
Seeing that she wasn’t dead was enough for me. Closing the door, I walked down the hall to Deli’s room and found her awake and sitting on the side of her bed. “Hey,” I called softly, “why are you up so early?”
Deli’s hair fell down her back as she turned her head, big blue eyes staring up at me with confusion rolling behind them. “I feel like there’s something wrong.”
Sighing, I moved to sit on the floor in front of her, my back leaning against her wall. “Nothing’s wrong. Why would you think that?”
Shaking her head, she blinked her eyes, the corner of her mouth curling down in concern. “I don’t know. Maybe it has to do with mom and dad. Have they come yet?”
I didn’t think it was possible for my world to shatter apart more than it already had that night, but hearing Deli’s question crushed me into dust, scattered me on soft winds until I was nothing more than a speck lingering on a dirty floor. “They’re not coming, Del. I’ve told you that.”
Tears shimmered in her eyes. I wanted to take her in my arms and protect her from the world, wanted to comfort her and sing to her, but I couldn’t bring myself to touch her because I was too dirty after killing Jack. I was tainted. I was dangerous and not sane enough to touch someone as fragile as her.
She didn’t answer, just sat quietly watching her fingers braid together in her lap.
“Deli, I’ve asked you before and I’ll ask again: Will you please go see Uncle Scott for Christmas? I think getting out the house will be good for you. It’ll be healthier than sitting here.”
“How long do you want me to stay away?”
A knife twisted in my heart to hear her say it that way. “It’s not that I want you to stay away. It’s just that you deserve a good Christmas and I can’t give it to you with my work schedule. I’m working doubles that entire week. We need the money for the bills.”
Seconds crept past becoming sandspurs that scratched my skin with every silent tick tock. “I already called Uncle Scott. Yesterday after we talked and you left for work. He’s picking me up this morning.”
The relief that flooded me was the same as being doused with cold water after walking for days in the grueling sun. “Thank you,” I breathed out.
Her voice was tiny. “What about you, Holden? What about your Christmas?”
“I’m working, Del. I’ll have people around me, even if it is a whip-cracking boss and three grumpy guys cooking burgers.”
Laughing softly, she pinned me with her eyes. “I need to pack up if I’m going to be ready by the time Uncle Scott gets here.”
I was thrilled she was finally getting out of the house, and if I didn’t have the events of the night weighing me down, I would have jumped up and danced through her room. This was a huge step for her. Since she came home from the hospital, she hadn’t stepped foot outside the house. I wanted her skin to feel the sunlight again, wanted her to remember there was a life outside the tragedy that wrecked us. I’d tried to help her as best I could, but it’s hard to hold a person above water when you’re drowning beneath the surface yourself.
“It’s kind of early for him to pick you up. What time is he supposed to arrive?”
She rolled her eyes and laughed again. I clung onto the sound, wanted to beg her to keep laughing because it might be the last time I’d ever get to hear it. Two years ago, all I had was time to give her and now even that had run out.
&nb
sp; “He’s old, Holden. He gets up before the crack of dawn and goes to sleep at five in the afternoon when the sun goes down again. You know that.”
I did know it, but Uncle Scott had kept those hours even before he was officially old. The man had a circadian rhythm so in tune with the sun and moon that he didn’t need a watch to know what time it was. Looking up in the sky, he could tell you it down to the minute.
Silence fell between us again, but I wanted to fill it with endless conversation, wanted to tell her I loved her and that I was sorry I’d let other people ruin our lives. I wanted to spill all my horrible secrets, reveal them to her just so she’d understand why I had to say goodbye, but I couldn’t force that weight on her. Not now. Not at the same moment she was taking the first step forward to reclaim her life.
How do tell someone goodbye without actually saying it?
“I love you, Deli. I hope you know that.”
Her lips tipped up into a smile. “Of course, I know that, stupid. You’ve been saying it since we were little kids.”
Smiling back, I answered, “I know. But I thought you needed to hear it one more time.”
“Dork,” she chided me through her laughter. “I’ll be back after the holidays. Stop acting like I’m leaving forever.”
In truth, it would be forever, she just didn’t know it yet. Murder was a crime deserving of capital punishment. The death penalty. A life incarcerated and caged until the day came that they stuck a needle in my arm and told me to sleep tight. With as young as I was, there was a chance I’d get life without parole, but I was sure that Jack’s parents and his fancy, bulldog lawyers would push and push until they were certain I’d lose my life for this.
Even if it wasn’t my fault.
Even if their son was such an unrelenting bully that he caused the fight that got him killed.