In the middle of my little dining table, I set the note.
Now to decide the details. I wondered why I hadn’t thought about this already—perhaps I never would’ve gone through with my one-year plan.
I didn’t have any pills, not even aspirin. I didn’t want to do it publicly, no spectacles. I would not jump off a building or some shit. I wanted it to be quiet and quick—alone. No pills, no gun, but I did have a knife. I wasn’t sure how to aim it with the stomach or even the chest, what would make it quick and ensure success.
The wrists. That’s how Cassie had done it. It was simple and easy. And whoever found me wouldn’t have to deal with too bad a mess, just blood, no vomit from an overdose or the horror of brain matter on the wall from a shot to the head.
Then I figured I should make sure someone found me before the smell made the landlord investigate. It was bad enough that someone would have to find me without adding the stench of decay to it. My neighbor was the only one I could think of.
I could hear through the wall that his video game fest had already started. He’d be busy for a while, long enough for me to get this done.
From the same notebook, I took another piece of paper.
“I’m sorry you’re the one who has to find me, but there’s no one else.”
I folded it, wrote his name at the bottom, and then slid it under my door so just his name would be visible from the hall.
The kitchen would do for the place of my last act. I resisted the urge to write something to Kimber or Penny or Rachel. Knowing how I really felt wouldn’t help them. The only thing I could do for them was the money.
I took a knife from the drawer, the little smooth one that I used to cut up apples. I’d just sharpened it. I sat on the floor against the wall
I closed my eyes, my first and only prayer.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t a better person, and I don’t expect you to take me with you. I only ask that you take care of the people I love. I failed at that. I’m begging you to do what I didn’t.”
My eyes open, I gripped the knife tighter.
I took a breath. I felt no fear, only calm that I was finally doing the right thing.
With the back of my hand against my bent knee, I steadied it so the knife would go deep enough.
I pressed the blade into my skin and slit down toward my elbow. Blood gushed.
My hand shook as I switched and cut the other wrist.
The knife fell and clattered on the linoleum.
I stared at the cabinets in front of me. Everything started to go fuzzy and dark.
“I love you, Kimber.”
The world was cold and black.
Chapter 50
Chad
Chad opened the door for the pizza delivery guy. He handed him cash and took the pizzas. The delivery guy walked away, back down the stairs.
Did I look that goofy in the uniform when I delivered pizzas in high school?
He looked away from the delivery guy and turned back toward his apartment. Then something caught his eye—a slip of paper sticking out from under his neighbor’s door. He looked closer.
It had his name on it.
What the hell? He hadn’t thought his neighbor even knew his name. That guy was weird—and a jerk.
Chad went back into his apartment and closed the door. His friends ripped the pizzas out of his hands.
“You got plates?” Pete said, already with a mouthful of pizza.
“I think there are some clean ones in the cabinet. If not, try the dishwasher.”
Terry kept his gaze focused on the screen—he was about to enter the cave to fight the demon. “And if not the dishwasher, try the sink.”
“What, you don’t do dishes for us?” Pete said, mouth still full.
“I bought the pizzas.” Chad liked that he could do stuff—he’d finally gotten his raise, after five years of fixing every flipping computer in the place, even when they should’ve been beyond repair.
Pete grinned.
Chad glanced back at his door. Why in the world would the guy next door leave a note for him? It had to be a prank or something, like the football players used to do to him in high school.
He sighed. He was too curious to let it go.
Back out in the hall, he bent over to pick up the paper. Nothing else was on the outside, just his name. He unfolded it.
“I’m sorry you’re the one who has to find me, but there’s no one else.”
Chad’s face contorted in confusion. Find him? What in the world does that mean?
Yeah, it had to be a prank. He turned.
But the guy didn’t strike him as the type. He was a jerk, but not like the football players. The jocks liked getting a rise out of people, embarrassing them. Their pranks were always public. But this guy acted like he wanted nothing to do with anyone else. He’d even seen him ignore that hot chick who worked in the rental office flirting with him.
He still didn’t know what the note meant though. Find him? Did he mean to go into his apartment?
Chad looked at the knob.
He knew it was probably smarter to walk away—but he was too curious.
He turned the knob, expecting it to be locked.
The door opened.
“Hello?” he called.
Nothing.
He walked in. “Hey, man, what’s this note about?”
The place was silent. He looked around. There was a notebook and a piece of paper on the table, and on the coffee table was one of the new iPads—he resisted the urge to take a look. No TV. That was weird. What did he do in here by himself all the time? He had some theories about what the guy did to make money, each one more ludicrous than the last. His favorite theory was that the guy was a gigolo.
“Hello,” Chad called again.
He saw nothing through the open bedroom door or the bathroom. He walked a little farther.
He turned the corner into the kitchen.
“Oh my God.” He stumbled back.
Blood everywhere. His neighbor was on the floor, leaned against the wall. Blood oozed from his wrists down his arms and onto the floor. He was perfectly still and pale, and a paring knife lay on the floor next to him.
He bolted toward his apartment. “Call 911,” he yelled.
Chapter 51
Blood On The Floor
The girl from the leasing office opened the door, and Penny walked in. She still wasn’t sure how the police had found her, maybe just because their last names were the same. She was sure Heath had allowed no other links between them.
The girl stood to the side and said nothing.
Penny turned to look around and wiped her eyes again. The furniture was nice but sparse, just like he seemed to like things.
“Have the police been through?” Penny said while still turned away.
“One officer. He said, um, they didn’t need to investigate any more. It was pretty clear there was no foul play.”
Penny nodded and walked over to the table. She held her breath to keep from breaking down.
She picked up the paper off the table.
Her voice shook. “This is the only note they found?”
“I don’t think the officer looked real hard…”
Penny smeared the tears off her cheeks. She could barely see through the moisture. The note was only about money, instructions on how to divvy it up. Nothing else. Nothing about how he felt, why he did it.
She felt like shit because she didn’t understand. She hadn’t understood him for a long time. She thought sleeping around was all he wanted, the only thing he gained pleasure from. But then he left. She’d done everything she could think to do for him—for his whole life. And then he left her.
And now he’d decided to leave for good—without even an explanation.
She covered her mouth to muffle the sob.
He was her family, the only person besides their mother she’d ever loved. She’d counted on him always to be there.
She set the note down. He m
ay as well have left a damn balance sheet for all the emotion that went into the note. She didn’t want his money.
She took another step, farther into the apartment.
“No,” the girl warned, “it hasn’t been cleaned yet.”
As the girl spoke, Penny turned the corner into the kitchen. “Oh God,” she screeched. The blood was everywhere, her brother’s blood, puddles covering the floor. She could see the outline where Heath had been sitting.
Mouth covered with her hand, she turned away.
The girl took her arm to guide her to sit at the table. “I’m sorry. Our maintenance man refused to clean it. We’re trying to find a company that specializes in…”
Penny stared at the tabletop. Her voice barely made sound. “How could he do this?”
The girl said nothing.
Penny focused on breathing, on keeping herself in one piece. She had to get through this on her own. She had no one to lean on.
She looked at the note, more a handwritten will than a suicide note. He couldn’t give her a clue as to why he’d done it? He hadn’t talked to her about anything that really mattered in years. He couldn’t at least leave a decent suicide note?
She wanted to understand him. Things had been so easy between them when he was little. She read him stories at night, and he kissed her cheek when he left for school every morning. He was affectionate, sweet. She was surprised at first—after he’d been tossed around foster homes. Then one day out of the blue, he thanked her for taking care of him.
After Cassie died, Penny tried to get him to talk to her. He never would. He spent time with women, lots of women, but no time with his sister. Penny did what she had to do.
She set the paper back down on the table. There was a notebook on the table too, half off the edge, as if he’d tossed it to the side, nothing of importance, only scratch paper. He used to write in notebooks all the time in high school. He never let her read anything he wrote. She only got to read what everyone else did, the articles he sold to newspapers and magazines. They were beautifully written—but never about him. She had everything he’d ever published. What she really wanted to read was all the things he hadn’t published, the pages upon pages he filled. She wondered why he never tried to publish his fiction.
The notebook taunted her, sitting there begging to be opened.
She’d always abided by his wishes. That didn’t matter anymore, though, did it? Shouldn’t she look around to find out why he’d done this? Isn’t that why she’d come?
She pulled the notebook to her, and the metal spiral binding scraped the table. She opened the book to a random page. Her own name jumped out at her.
Penny was always my best friend. Even after I was with Cassie, we were close. I don’t know when we lost that.
No, I know exactly when it was—when I decided to live in a way I couldn’t share with her, a way I knew she wouldn’t approve of. I didn’t realize it at the time. I never felt guilty—I wasn’t hurting anyone. I just stopped talking with her. We had nothing to talk about. I spent my days fucking women, nothing else, and I knew she couldn’t handle hearing about that. I had nothing else to share other than sex.
At least that’s what I thought.
It was you who made me think—hope—there was more for me. That one night was all I needed, just the fact that you wanted to be with me. I stupidly thought I’d be able to keep you. I never would’ve made love to you otherwise. I spent months fighting you, and that night was when I finally gave in. I suppose I should be thankful to Penny for making you go away. Surely, I would’ve hurt you worse had you stayed longer.
Penny stared at the page.
She hadn’t seen it—what was so wrong with him for all those months. It started when she hired Kimber, and she realized everything revolved around Kimber.
She stood and walked out of Heath’s apartment, the notebook held tightly to her chest.
Chapter 52
The Black Notebook
Kimber sat down and opened the book, the same book she always read. She could recite certain passages now.
She was exhausted from work, no energy even to change, let alone put the dishes away. She always read, though. It was becoming a compulsion. She wouldn’t admit to herself why. It hurt too much, and confused her more than anything. She was angry, nothing else—that’s what she told herself.
A knock.
She looked up from her book and hesitated to go to the door. No one ever came to see her. She’d sent her family letters, with her return address on the envelopes, but they never responded, let alone came to see her.
Another knock.
She decided she should at least look through the peephole. She crossed the tiny room.
Penny was there, holding a notebook. Her eyes were red and puffy as if she’d been crying for hours.
Kimber opened the door.
“I’m sorry to, um, intrude,” Penny said, “but can I come in?”
Kimber stepped back out of the way, and Penny passed her into the room. She didn’t look around, only focused on Kimber. She held the notebook tightly to her chest.
“Um, do you want to sit?” Kimber said.
Penny nodded and then followed Kimber over to the worn olive-green couch. Kimber waited for her to talk. Penny set the notebook on her lap and looked at the black cover.
Finally, Kimber spoke. “Is…everything all right?”
Penny shook her head, and a tear ran down her cheek.
Kimber shifted closer. “Penny, what is it?”
“I’m sorry. I…I thought I was protecting him.”
Kimber paused. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” She’d only told the truth. I was the idiot who’d believed him.
Penny took a shaking breath. “Did you care for him?”
“He lied to me.”
Penny looked up. “Did he?”
Kimber turned away.
“Did he ever lie about what he did for a living?” Penny said.
“He should’ve told me.”
“He was trying to push you away, without hurting you. He thought that was the best thing he could do.”
Kimber’s gaze snapped back to Penny. “So why in the hell did he sleep with me?”
Penny’s voice was quiet. “Because you wanted it.”
“Right, I forgot. That’s his job—acquisition of new clients. Hopefully, my last check was enough to cover it.” Kimber had refused to deposit her final check. “Or is that why you’re here—to collect the balance?”
Penny’s face crumpled, and she stared at the black notebook.
Kimber took a silent breath. She didn’t like to see Penny cry, though she had no idea why she was so upset. It scared her a little. This wasn’t like Penny.
“Did you…” Penny mumbled. “Did you care for him?”
A long pause.
Finally, Penny looked up.
Kimber knew Penny well enough to understand only one thing, only one person could upset her this much. She was terrified to ask. “What…what happened to him?”
Penny’s voice shook as if she could barely force the words out. “He slit his wrists.”
Kimber covered her mouth and closed her eyes. She squeezed them so tightly they hurt, but moisture seeped out anyway. Her hands trembled. All of her did, like that time her father hit her for talking back. She stood and turned away.
No, he can’t be… She prayed. She wanted to drop to her knees and beg.
She turned and could barely see Penny’s fuzzy image. “Where is he?” Please don’t let him be gone. Please, God.
Penny hesitated. “He…”
Chapter 53
White Room
I opened my eyes. Everything was white. I didn’t understand.
It was too bright. I could barely keep my eyes open. An intercom sounded from somewhere. I looked around the room. White walls. A floor-to-ceiling curtain on my right and a door to a white hallway on my left. I moved to get out of the bed. There were tubes in my arms. I yanked them ou
t and stood.
Beeping and buzzing.
Someone hurried into the room, a woman in a lab coat. A large man followed, wearing what looked like white scrubs.
“You have to lie down,” the woman said as she reached out for my arm.
I ripped away. “What’s going on?”
“You’re safe.”
“Safe from what?”
She glanced at the man, and he stepped forward.
“What’s going on?” I demanded.
“Just lie down,” she said.
“No,” I roared.
The man grabbed the tops of my arms and began pushing me back toward the bed.
“Let me go.” I tried to pull away, but I was too weak.
“Be careful of his bandages,” the woman said.
I grabbed the man’s shirt in my fists and tried to throw him off. He stumbled back, still holding on to me.
“Jerry,” the man called, “get in here.”
Another man ran in. He grabbed me too, and they forced me onto the bed.
“No.” My voice filled the white room with black rage. I cursed incoherently and struggled.
They pushed me down onto the mattress. “Stop,” I roared. “Let me go.”
The woman moved closer, a syringe in her hand.
“No.” I pulled a hand free, but one of the men pinned it back down to the mattress. A bandage at my wrist tore. There was blood.
The woman pushed the needle into my arm.
Struggling grew harder until I couldn’t move anymore.
Everything went dark.
Chapter 54
Molly
There were drugs in my system. I could feel as they began to wear off. I didn’t know what in the hell was going on.
I opened my eyes and stared at the dark ceiling. The white room was gone—or was it just the light that was gone?
I tried to lift my hand. Metal clanged, and my hands jerked to a stop. I looked down. My hands were strapped to the metal bars along the sides of my bed. I yanked at them. My body hurt to move.
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