Sever

by Jesse Grey

“Ben,” Bridge latched onto his hands like his own were Ben’s gloves, attempting to provide some much needed warmth to the palms opposite him. “You’re your own person, not some dream-toy mannequin for your parents to manipulate and direct. You have choices.”

  “You don’t get it.” He stepped back, away from Bridge’s reach. “We have different destinies, Bridge. We’re both meant for opposing outcomes. Maybe all we were meant to be to each other was a beauti-ful distraction.”

  “How am I supposed to let all of this go, everything that’s hap-pened between us?” Bridge didn’t know how to just let his relation-ship evaporate into the ether. They’d tried before, and here they still were, still sneaking around.

  But even Bridge had to admit that a relationship made up of hushed meet-ups and secretive sexual encounters couldn’t last forev-er.

  “We’ll see each other around,” Ben tried to smile, but it faltered and looked incredibly forced. “I love you, Bridge. I honestly do.”

  Unable to say the same with the devastation around them, Bridge tried to keep from crying and just jutted out his hand that still held the scribbled on stationary. But Ben pushed his palm away.

  “Keep it. I don’t need another reminder of what I’ve done.” Bridge finally felt his tears begin their exit from his dark orbs as Ben gripped him closer for one more kiss.

  “Goodbye, Ben.”

  “Goodbye, Bridge.”

  They let their stares linger until Ben turned around and made his exit from the locker room, leaving Bridge there alone with Paige’s paper. But he couldn’t mourn the passing of his relationship for too long, due to the fact that the stationary, which was just an off-white color with a design in the bottom corner, looked instantly recog-nizable. Bridge’s eyes flew open, knowing where he’d seen it before. And that’s when the music thumping into the Westbrooke gymnasi-um ceased as Abram and Alex finished their song, following the cue from Bridge’s heart.

  It was written on paper he’d carried between his fingers before. It was the exact same paper that had sent him and his friends to Sumner’s house to retrieve from the room he had stayed at under-neath Arclan Asylum.

  Paige’s words hissed against his ribcage, a cacophony of anxiety startling his heart. You’ll get what’s coming to you. Bridge was coerced into living with her by Adelaide’s heavy spirited suggestion, but what if it had been a skillfully planned ploy, a scheme of crafted malevolence? What if Paige was their stalker and had been antagonizing them this entire time?

  Abram loved the look on Alex’s face when they got on stage as the surprise song began to play. ‘Keep On Loving You’ was another one of their favorite eighties ballads, and it perfectly described how they were both feeling. So they sang the song with ease, Alex looking over at him and vice versa while they sang along to the karaoke instru-mental.

  After it was all over, they were met with wild jeers and a few shouts of encore as they descended from the stage. Thalia Cobbins took to the mic then as Alex and Abram faded into the crowd.

  “Alright, everyone, you have five minutes to vote for king and queen before we announce the winners.”

  The student body briefly applauded for the principal as the DJ spun the music again, a mindless loopy beat filling the room. Alex and Abram shoved their way out of the now dancing crowd and found a clearing void of their fellow classmates.

  “Where is everyone?”

  Alex’s open-ended inquiry was forgotten when Willa and Faith came up to them, the former’s date trailing them expectantly.

  “They’re not back yet.” Faith crossed her arms hesitantly. “Shouldn’t they be back?”

  “I have a bad feeling about this.” Alex added.

  “Stay here.” Abram told his sister, and by extension, Hugo. “We need to see what’s taking them so long.”

  Alex and Abram started for the exit of the Homecoming dance, Faith still planning to join them as they went to leave the gymnasi-um. Abram looked behind them, seeing that Bridge had joined his sister, looking devastatingly forsaken. Unfortunately, neither of them would get the chance to find their friends because right before they approached the main entrance door, it burst open with police officers led by the dangerously intense Detective Alston Dagger.

  The teens stopped their trek out of the building, watching as Principal Cobbins marched over to the detective, visually upset at the police department’s sudden intrusion at the high school’s social func-tion.

  “What is all this, detective?” Thalia demanded explanation from him.

  “This entire building is being put on lockdown.” Dagger nodded, gesturing for the accompanying officers to set up a perimeter around the gym.

  “What? Why?”

  “Because we have reason to believe that Blanche Baxxen is on the premises.”

  As Dagger ordered the DJ to cut off the music and took control of the entire room at Homecoming, the friends shared worried glances, instantly wondering how they were going to explain the fact that their friends, all of which Dagger was already beginning to notice was missing from their collective, were trying to meet with the very fugitive that the police were very keen on capturing.

  “This was stupid. We’re-gonna-get-arrested stupid.”

  Mercer’s words reflected how every one of them felt as they climbed the stairs that led to the roof of the gymnasium. They had found an access hatch at the back of the gym outside that brought them to an emergency stairwell, which then led to the roof. It had taken them a little while to think to trace the perimeter of the gym for a way up, but luckily they were still making the best of their time. All of them knew that Blanche must be waiting on them beyond the stairwell since the lock to the door of the roof access had been busted and left open for them to enter without issue. The throbbing of the music from within the gym seemed to vibrate against the walls as they made their way up the stairs.

  The moment finally came, where they reached the top of the stairs, a closed door keeping them from the breaking ground of the roof.

  “Everyone ready?” Straton prompted.

  “I want to see Blanche. No more stalling.”

  Sterling took charge of their group, pushing the door open with a hard, grunt-earning push. Straton quickly followed his sister without hesitation or doubt, but Mercer and Kirby hung back for a couple seconds.

  “He already asked, but are you ready?” Kirby was still new to be-ing included into Slayer Society matters, but she knew that this meeting with Blanche was a big deal. Smiling on a miniscule scale, she let out a hand for him, a gesture to try and alleviate his anxiety.

  Mercer mimicked her little grin, reaching out and graciously tak-ing her hand with his own. “Ready and willing.”

  Hand in hand, Kirby and Mercer walked out onto the roof, catching up to Straton and Sterling, just walking out onto the roof. Once they were all together, they kept looking around, since Blanche was nowhere they could see.

  “Blanche?”

  Straton nudged his sister. “Really? Calling out into the open night? Do you want this to end like Scream?”

  “She should be here.” Sterling scoffed, concern and caution seep-ing through her scared tone.

  “Maybe she’s running late.” Mercer shrugged.

  “Then how do you explain the lock, Mercer?”

  Without warning, the music from the Homecoming dance below them ceased to pulse at their feet.

  “Why did the music stop?” Kirby questioned as they all turned around, facing the door they had just entered through.

  And that’s when Sterling started to scream enough for all of them.

  Hanging from the top of the roof door’s platform, dripping with fresh slick crimson blood, was the lifeless body of Blanche Baxxen.

  17

  ONE OF YOU

  Silence crowded around them like an abundant fog of stagnant thought as Sumner’s former friends explained a few things to the other involved individuals in the wake of an earth-shattering murder.

  Once the police had found B
lanche’s body, Homecoming was of-ficially over. Police tape and sirens cloaked the entire mass of West-brooke High, and the friends had spent the rest of the weekend in-side an interrogation room, answering an onslaught of angled ques-tions from Detective Dagger. Ultimately, they had gotten out of Dagger’s line of fire, but only because of Sterling claiming she asked Blanche to meet her there and forced the rest of them to help prove Blanche’s innocence. It had worked. But not for all of them.

  Sterling and Straton were still being bombarded with questions by the police for their former relationships with Blanche, from their time with her before she became a patient at Arclan Asylum.

  Blanche Baxxen was dead, and everyone thought it was because she knew too much.

  No one knew who killed Blanche, but they all had a mutual sus-pect. One they didn’t have to voice out in the open to one another.

  Now, the others previously blind to Slayer Society affairs thought there might be another potential killer. They were being told of the news of a stalker trying to bring them down by any means necessary. The silence was accumulating in heavy sheets to the point of discom-fort, so Faith was the first one to infiltrate the sound’s restraint.

  “So, just so I’m hearing every detail correctly, there’s been some-one following you, stalking you in every sense of the word, leaving messages and threats for months, and you haven’t gone to the po-lice...why?”

  “Because we can’t.” Her brother answered with a much needed sigh. The four of them were standing in the empty St. James house-hold, thankful that they had waited for Abram and Willa’s parents to leave for work before they had called everyone over to hold their private details enlightenment, as he and his friends looked into the open faces of their sisters and one particular girlfriend.

  “Why can’t you?” Willa heaved, unfolding her arms and massag-ing her temples with one of her hands to ail the forming headache she felt galloping upon her. “What possible reason could there be for not getting the police to catch whoever is doing this to you?”

  “It’s complicated.” Mercer sighed.

  “We just can’t.” Abram added to Alex’s earlier ideal. “We’re al-ready risking a lot bringing you guys up to speed on this. We just wanted to tell all of you why we had to be there to meet Blanche.”

  The speaking of her name chilled all of them, like the air condi-tioning had been suddenly set to frostbite, their spines coated with icicles. But Faith couldn’t stop her mind from regurgitating queries that kept sizzling her tongue.

  “You were meeting with her because of the stalker?”

  “Yes,” Mercer stated. “She’s connected to Sumner and the stalker had a message that tied her to him.”

  “She’s Streetcar, isn’t she?” Kirby had kept quiet the whole time they’d been talking to them, listening to them expound the intrica-cies of their anonymous follower, and instead deciding to take every detail in; until now. “From Shadows Manor.”

  “What is she talking about?” Faith growled.

  “It was evidence from the room Sumner hid in below Arclan,” Kirby furthered. “They went there to get it, because the stalker sent you there. And one of the pages said ‘Streetcar’, which was code for Blanche. Am I right?”

  Taking a moment to look at each other, speaking silently be-tween one another, the friends gave the reigns of conversation to Mercer to conclude. “Yes.”

  “I’m still not getting why you can’t tell the authorities.” Willa shook her head.

  “We just can’t, okay?” Bridge yelled, a little louder than he needed to. Bridge, amidst the chaos of being questioned in Blanche’s murder, hadn’t had time to tell his friends about the connection between their stalker and Paige having the same stationary. And it was consuming him, considering he was also dealing with an unfortunately rough break-up. “You know enough. Take it or leave it.”

  “But—”

  “No, I’m done with this.” Bridge said defiantly. “Anyway, we need to go if we’re goinna make the assembly.”

  The assembly had just started when all of them arrived at West-brooke High School. Luckily, the girls hadn’t asked anymore ques-tions once the notion of them being late for the much-anticipated assembly, that Principal Cobbins was issuing before classes began, had been brought up. Since the untimely demise of a certain former patient of Arclan Asylum crashed Homecoming before the an-nouncement of King and Queen, the whole school was being gath-ered for the awaited reveal.

  “Before we begin,” Thalia ushered as they found a place in the crowd. The Homecoming Court was standing behind Thalia on the floor of the now repurposed back-to-normal gymnasium while eve-ryone else settled into the extracted bleachers. “I’d like to take a mo-ment of silence for Blanche Baxxen, as well as all of those who knew her.”

  An unsettling sweep of sorrow and despair descended upon the communal of students and faculty. Blanche wasn’t a student at the school, but the loss of such a young life resonated with everyone. It was a good two minutes before Thalia started speaking into the microphone again.

  “Alright, without further ado, let’s announce the winners of Homecoming King and Queen.”

  A teacher came over to Thalia and an envelope was exchanged between their hands with the fluid flick of their wrists. The principal ripped at the edges of the news of who had won the coveted Homecoming titles. A smile skated across her face as she read the results from the dance’s voting. She looked up from the results and spoke evenly into the mic.

  “We have a first here at Westbrooke High School.” Thalia beamed. “For the first time ever, our school doesn’t have a queen.” She paused as a few girls gasped at the newfound fact. “Our two Homecoming Kings are none other than Alex Llewellyn and Abram St. James.”

  The couple shared a look of pure disbelief, wondering how they both had gotten the most votes as the crowd joined their friends in clapping congratulations to the new reigning supremes of West-brooke High. They hugged and kissed swiftly right before they were crowned, Abram taking the crown intended for the potential Home-coming Queen as Alex donned the prized King’s encrusted headdress of gold.

  Abram and Alex kissed again as people applauded their feat, which was a complete flip of how they had been greeted back to Westbrooke at the start of the school year. Everyone clapped as they came out of their kiss, glad that people were seeking repentance from their actions earlier in the school year. The young Homecoming Kings soaked in every moment of their winning, especially before they had to leave during lunch to possibly meet with Emmy Walker, a meeting they knew had the power to change everything that they knew to be true.

  Arriving at The Bistro, Alex and Abram felt their nerves fully ablaze with anticipation. They had gotten to the meeting place early to meet the woman with the answers about Emmy Walker, surprised at how busy the quaint shop was.

  The venue was all modern architecture and sleek furniture, the pungent aroma of freshly brewed coffee and timely baked pastries wafting from table to table. They took a seat in the middle of the shop, awaiting the presence of the woman who could set the record straight about who Emmy Walker was.

  “I hope this works out.” Abram stated, fidgeting with his fingers while he repositioned himself in his chair.

  “Why wouldn’t it?” Alex brought to question, scooting his own chair closer to the metal table. “This is good, Abe. We’re one step closer to figuring this whole thing out.”

  “Things aren’t exactly going our way, Alex.” Abram shook his head, countering his boyfriend’s heartfelt words. “Blanche was just murdered for coming to tell us everything.”

  “Keep your voice down.” Alex looked around, making sure no one was overhearing their hushed discussion. “Listen, this is good.” He reached over and grabbed Abram’s hand, applying pressure to subside the taller man’s growing anxiety. “Just stay focused and eve-rything will be fine.”

  At the end of his utterance, a middle-aged woman walked into The Bistro, looking around the establishment like she was hunting for
someone.

  “Abe.”

  He followed Alex’s trail of vision until he too saw the officious gestures the woman was making as she looked around the room. Taking the lead, Abram lifted himself out of his chair and made his short walk over to the dark haired woman.

  “Ms. Walker?” Abram asked, hoping his outright prompt at her identity wasn’t misconstrued and didn’t anger their guest.

  But to his favor, the tall woman just smiled at him. “Sort of, but please,” she ordered. “Call me Reyna.”

  Sparing no second, they found their seats once again and Abram and Alex prepared their questions mentally before they voiced them.

  “Alright,” Reyna started, eyeing them eagerly. “You both want to know about Emmy Walker. Why?”

  “Ms. Walker—”

  “Reyna.” She corrected again. “My last name is Walker because of my brother and…anyway, my legal last name is Prescott.” She shifted the conversation ahead of any questioning about her family, dodging before any asks could sputter to fruition. “Why are you looking for Emmy? What led you to her?”

  “Sumner.” Abram uttered softly. “Surely you’ve heard of the phe-nomenon of Sumner Shadows.”

  “I have actually, but—”

  “Sumner knew Emmy Walker,” He went on. “We found some-thing of his that had her name all over it. Clearly she has some sort of connection to him.”

  Reyna sighed, looking away and placing her hands on the table. “I understand. You want answers about your...friend. And you think Emmy has something to do with it.”

  “We know she does, Reyna.” Alex said, suddenly including him-self. “You said your last name was Walker. Are you related to Emmy Walker?”

  She heaved a massive breath, obviously fortifying herself for the tale she was about to unfurl to the two teenagers in front of her.

  “I used to be. Emmy was married to my brother years ago.” Reyna seemingly nodded. “She was my sister-in-law.”

  The boys shared an uneasy glare, something that wasn’t lost on the woman with them.