Once the doors slid closed and I was alone once more, I thought about Ash. I’d love to have her in every way possible, love to know what she felt like around me, how soft her tender skin was. Not to mention the sounds she’d make…
Fuck. I better stop thinking about that now, otherwise I’d return to her with a hard-on of my own, and she’d get the wrong idea.
I would never, ever force myself on her. Never. When I took her—and I was almost overly confident that I would—she would want me just as badly as I craved her. She’d want me to take her. She’d beg me to do it. Raping someone…that took a special kind of psychopath, and I wasn’t one.
No, I wasn’t a psychopath. I didn’t get in trouble with the law, didn’t go out of my way to look for ways to make other people miserable. What I was, what I was taught to be from an early age, was complicated. Some, I was sure, would mark me as a sociopath, and that was a bit closer to the truth than a psychopath, but even so, it wasn’t strictly the case.
Like I said, complicated. I was a complicated creature who was only trying to enjoy my life before I gave my all to the family and its world-reaching business.
The elevator door opened, and I headed out, turning to walk towards my room. I inserted the key into the lock, pushing inside, about to grin and announce that I had returned with the food, but something was wrong. One huge thing was wrong, actually.
Ash wasn’t here.
The chains were Ash-less. Not a blonde, pink-haired girl in sight. Her backpack was gone, too.
I walked in with measured steps, taking in the way the chains were outstretched, how only one of them was unlocked with the key—the key that currently sat on my bed. I set the pizza down on my bed, sinking to my knees as I ran a finger along the manacle that wasn’t unlocked.
“My, my,” I muttered, “I think I underestimated you, Ash.” I spoke to her as if she was here. How badly I wanted her here. The resourcefulness, the tenacity. There was no way she would’ve been able to simply slide a wrist out; she had to have hurt herself to get out.
Any animal would gnaw off its own leg to get out of a trap.
I’d told her that I was going to let her go. I told her that I wouldn’t hurt her, didn’t I? As I got to my feet, my back straightening, I finally noticed everything else that was off in the room. The drawers in my dresser were opened, the clothes inside thrown around, like she’d gone through them before leaving. She found nothing. There was nothing to see, except…
I turned and headed to my desk, yanking open the bottom drawer. My eyes gazed down at an empty drawer, free of the journal, barren of the one thing I’d taken because I had to. Sabrina’s journal. The things written in there made me look really bad.
Of course, the journal was written before she died. Even if Ash read it, she’d have no idea that I was the last person to see Sabrina alive, the last person to see her lips pucker, to observe as she kept gasping and struggling, because the fall hadn’t snapped her neck. It wasn’t a tall enough drop.
I knew she lived for at least fifteen seconds after standing on nothing but air, because I watched her die.
It was not something I wanted Ash to know. I didn’t want her to think about Sabrina and link us together. “Well,” I mumbled, frowning at the empty drawer, “shit.” Just when I was about to swear again, I felt my pocket buzz, and I pulled out her phone.
Declan texted her. I need you.
Ugh. That fucking Declan was going to ruin it for me. Him and Sawyer.
My hands clenched around her phone. No. I couldn’t let that happen.
I knew what I had to do.
Chapter Twenty-Six – Ash
I should’ve gone straight back to the apartment, but I didn’t. Once I knew I had Sabrina Salvatore’s journal in my hand, I couldn’t. I had to read it, or at least read some of it, and I didn’t want to let Declan see it. Who knew what seeing something of his dead girlfriend’s would do to him. I didn’t want to take the chance it would make him spiral.
I didn’t want to hurt Declan any more than he already was.
I went to the only place I could think of: the McDonald’s just off of campus. I had to cross a super busy intersection to get there, not to mention hide my right hand from anyone who happened to stare too long at me, but I managed.
The pain…it still hurt like a bitch and a half, but I could handle it. Pain was something I could handle, unlike some people. This was nothing.
I entered through the side door, grabbing myself the nearest seat. As I held my injured hand below the table, I flipped open the journal, my eyes scanning the way Sabrina Salvatore curved her letters. A feminine handwriting, for sure. And then I flipped the front page, coming to the first journal entry.
I still couldn’t believe she had a handwritten journal, like a diary. It seemed so old-fashioned, but I guess when you were rich and spoiled, you had the time to handwrite long passages of feelings and stuff.
I read, and I read. When I was done skimming one passage, I plowed straight onto the next. The deeper into it I got, the more I felt anxious. An air of unease settled on my shoulders, and my heart caught in my throat. Everything she was saying…this girl kept her own secrets, clearly.
And what terrible secrets they were.
The thing between Sawyer, Travis, and Declan? I thought it was a fucking mess before, but now…what’s worse than a mess? A disaster? A nuclear fallout? This was much bigger than a simple mess. I’d take a mess over this any day of the year. This was…I didn’t even know what to say, except that I should’ve followed my gut.
Travis had hidden so much, and he’d done it so well.
Sawyer believed Sabrina didn’t hang herself, and after reading this journal, I was inclined to agree. Sawyer thought Declan did it, and though I knew Declan had a temper hidden beneath his placid self, I knew it wasn’t Declan.
It wasn’t Declan, because it was Travis.
It had to be Travis. Granted, I was only partway through the diary, but some of the passages were very descriptive in the things Travis liked to do to Sabrina. Sabrina and Declan were broken up, because Travis had gotten to her and forced her to do it. He liked taking charge and making girls do what he wanted. I’d say he was a sick individual, but that just sounded too cliched.
And besides, if Travis was sick, what did that make me?
I had to bring this journal to Declan and see what he thought. The picture it painted of Travis was not a good one. A darkness hid behind all those tattoos, a menacing darkness I’d recognized when I first saw him but didn’t do anything about. Now I was here, one of my hands practically broken, with Sabrina’s journal telling me nothing but the truth.
It was Travis. It was always Travis.
I tucked the journal into my backpack and got up, hurrying from the McDonald’s and back to campus. I darted across traffic, stupidly, I might add, earning myself half a dozen angry drivers whose car honks rose through the quiet night, but I didn’t care. I had to get back to the dorm, tell Declan about what I discovered.
When I reached my dorm, I burst in through the front door, heading to the staircase. Taking two steps at a time, I made it to my room quickly. I fumbled with the key, heading inside, instantly calling out, “Declan?”
My voice was only returned with the closing of the door behind me. Declan wasn’t here, not in his bed, not at his desk. What…
“Declan?” I said again, turning. The bathroom light was on. My feet drew me closer to the door, and I knocked with my uninjured hand, leaning a cheek on the door as I said, “Declan, I have to talk to you. There’s something you need to know.” I swallowed. “There’s a journal you should see.”
I waited, got no response. I leaned my ear against the door flat. Not a single sound rose in the bathroom. No running water. No piss. No sink or shower or anything. Not a single sound, and never had I wanted to hear his voice more.
“Declan?” I spoke his name again, this time a bare whisper, almost as if I knew in my heart of hearts what had happened.
My eyes fell to the floor, and my stomach dropped when I noticed the red liquid peeking out.
I went for the knob, clumsily turning it since I wasn’t left handed. It was unlocked, but when I went to open it, the door got stuck on something. Using my whole body, every bit of strength I had left—not a lot, considering how my day had gone—I pushed open the door just enough to squeeze in after dropping my backpack. What I saw made me want to cry.
Declan was on the ground, crumpled and motionless. His neck was at an odd angle, half leaning on the wall of the tub and half on the floor. His legs were what stopped the door from opening all the way. His eyes were closed, his skin pale. A dark red gash sat on his wrist, a pool of blood oozing from it.
Blood. So much blood.
“No,” I whispered, falling to my knees, slipping in the blood. I felt his neck; his pulse was weak, but it was there. Wincing, I grabbed the bottom of my shirt and pulled it over my head. I wrapped it around his bleeding arm as best as I could, just below his elbow, tying it as tightly as humanly possible to try to staunch the blood flow. Everything was a lot harder to do with my left hand taking charge. My right was useless with its limp thumb. “It’s going to be okay,” I told him, not knowing if he was conscious or not.
His lips were pale, almost blue, his skin cold. Declan didn’t have much time left.
I looked around, spotting his phone on the tile. It slid beneath the sink, almost like Declan had collapsed and dropped it. I crawled toward it, my blood-covered fingers having a hard time pulling up the number pad on it. My gray eyes fell to him, and I felt my eyes tearing up as I called 911.
I couldn’t lose him. I wouldn’t.
“911, what’s your emergency?” A woman’s voice spoke on the line, and it took me way too long to snap back into my head. Staring at Declan, seeing all that blood—and it was a lot—he looked dead already.
It was official. This was the worst day of my life.
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This is obviously only the beginning of the Hillcrest saga, and whatever you do, please don’t kill me after that cliffhanger!
Loser: A Dark College Bully Romance (Hillcrest University Book 1) Page 20