Sever

by Jesse Grey

  “You drink too much of that and you’re going to turn into a share of Lipton.” Hugo laughed, clasping his friend on the shoulder. Straton chuckled along with his bro as he finished his cup and tossed the styrofoam into a designated trash bin. “But seriously, dude, thank you for coming tonight. It really means a lot me.”

  “Of course.” Straton smiled, giving Hugo a half hug that ended with a pair of smiles between them. “I do think we should get going, though. We still have to conjure up some type of skeletal makeup on our way to the party we’re incredibly late for.”

  “I know,” Hugo nodded. “But I brought some supplies for us, and it’s a simple skeleton look that we can put on before we see anyone at the party. Let’s head out.”

  After giving their thanks to a few people in the group, as well as the curators of the night’s occasion, they made their way across the parking lot and made it into Straton’s vehicle. They were just driving by Armor Falls Memorial Hospital, when someone was running from its doors and was almost flattened by Straton’s BMW.

  And the person running out in front of them was a freshly re-leased Paige Honeycombe.

  Once his tires completed screaming against the pavement, both Hugo and Straton hopped out of the car, Paige standing there in front of them as immobile as a monument.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” Straton yelled, suddenly real-izing the weight of what Paige had done to his friends as he delivered the ambush of words to her. “I almost flattened you.”

  “Sidetracked by Halloween, I guess.” Then, really looking at them, she spoke with wildly intense eyes that vibrated with analysis. “Wait, you’re Straton and Hugo, right?” When they nodded, she added, “I saw you at Homecoming. You’re both acquainted with Bridge and the rest of his friends.”

  “And you’re their amnesiac stalker.” Hugo huffed.

  “No.” She ricocheted her head with profound potency. “I remem-bered something and the hospital only just let me leave.”

  Straton’s ears perked up with intrigue. “Remembered what?”

  “The cops thought I was trying to kill myself when I crashed my car.” Paige began to shake, sobs cascading from her like the water at Niagara Falls. “And I fled from my house because I was running from the truth.”

  “Spit it out.” Hugo barked.

  “I was trying to kill myself.” She admitted between suppressed whimpering. “But not because I’m their stalker.” Paige looked at them with unwavering dismay. “It’s because I found out who it really is.”

  21

  THAT NIGHT

  Heartmyth was on figurative fire as the party celebrating the start of the second semester was rallying its most accumulating crowd yet. Sumner had invited them, because apparently he had friends other than them who went to the university. But for his four high school best friends, a Heartmyth rager seemed daunting.

  “Are we sure that Sumner is even here?”

  “Of course he is, Liss.” Abram confirmed with conviction, affirm-ing his confidence with a firm grip on her hand.

  “I’m gonna go find some hot college dude to make out with.” Bridge determined, his own firm grip impeccably caressing his ego.

  “Do you ever think about anything without factoring in your pe-nis?” Mercer smirked fiercely, awarding him a comical shove from his best friend.

  A redhead came flouncing over to them, specifically attaching herself to Mercer with the loop of her arm.

  “Isn’t this party amazing?”

  “Harley, are you drunk?” Her boyfriend snickered, alluding to the indistinct conveyance of her words.

  “Okay,” Bridge scoffed, an act that preceded the massive rolling of his eyes. “Now that I’ve officially reached fifth wheel status, I’ll see you guys later.”

  He faded into the crowd, slipping past belligerently wasted col-lege and high school students that were eagerly assaulting their livers. Unbeknownst to Bridge, he passed a huge gathering that was surrounding the illustrious Sumner Shadows as he tossed a handful shots of vodka down his hatch. Standing directly next to him was a new pal of his who attended Heartmyth and had gifted him the invi-tation tonight. He had yet to see signs of his friends, but for now, his new pal would serve his means.

  “Do another shot with me, Straton.” Sumner said, a belch freely flowing.

  “I should cool it.” Straton shook his head. “I’ve got an early class tomorrow.”

  “Come on, Jacobs.” His begging echoed his discontent at his friends’ urbane refusal. “Don't bitch out on me.”

  The face of one of his best friends’ siblings appeared close by in the corral of kids, halting anymore petulance geared towards Straton, Sumner’s hand flying up as he waved the person over to them.

  “Willa!”

  Her glossy hair moved like the wind as she met his face from the distance, a glaze of a grin appearing like sunshine in her face. Willa joined them rapidly, a quick hug completed between them.

  “Does your brother know you're here?”

  Her head shuddered with a silent negative. “Have you seen him?”

  “Not yet.” Sumner officiated. “I'm sure he and the others are around here somewhere.”

  “Hi.” Straton said, his glittering eyes scouring the entire contents that comprised of the ever gorgeous Willa St. James.

  “Oh, right.” Sumner laughed off his bad manners like it was a tasteless joke he'd forgotten to dismiss. “Willa, this is my friend, Straton. He's a freshman here at Heartmyth. And Straton, this is Willa, one of my best friend’s little sister.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Straton smiled his effortless and timelessly handsome simper.

  “You too.” Willa beamed. “Interesting name, by the way.”

  He chuckled slightly. “My parents wanted fairly original names for their children.”

  After a symphony of a laugh to interrupt their initial introduc-tion, Sumner said, “Come here.”

  Sumner’s plea was met as Willa and Straton ushered closer to him as they witnessed Sumner exchanging his phone with a nearby partier, a grin greasing his face.

  “Take a picture of us real quick.”

  The random person obliged Sumner’s statement, whether it was because they knew him or due to the shock of being asked outright, neither of them were sure. But once the picture was taken and Sumner was returned his phone, it began to bleat obnoxiously.

  “Excuse me, I have to take this.” Sumner looked up from his phone and jolted an eyebrow. “Feel free to make out in my absence.”

  While Willa and Straton disregarded the irreverent remark, the rest of Sumner’s friends were mingling with the crowd on the back lawn of one of Heartmyth’s many buildings. Bridge was macking on some questioning senior, Mercer and Harley were dancing with a mass of people in the center of the designated party arena. And that left Abram and Lissa to do whatever they wanted, which was the problem. Lissa just wanted to dance with her loving boyfriend, and Abram was consumed with the notion to find Sumner.

  “Abe, can we just grab a drink and dance?” Even as she spoke, Lissa knew her plea was colliding against closed off hearkening.

  “I just want to see where Sumner is.” Abram nodded.

  “Why? Can't we forget about him and have some fun?”

  He smiled. “He's my best friend, Liss. I wanna say thanks for the invite.”

  “Well I'm going to grab us some drinks and I'll meet you by Har-ley and Mercer when you're ready to relinquish yourself from Sumner Shadows.”

  Lissa pulled Abram in for a kiss quickly, so quick like they'd do it for the rest of their lives. He reveled into the small burst of passion. He beheld his beautiful girlfriend as she walked away, and all Abram could mutter to himself that he was the luckiest guy ever to be so happy and in love with the plentifully quintessential Alissandra Llewellyn.

  But the issue with Abram wanting to find Sumner was that he didn’t want to be found. After receiving the call and stepping away from the stumbling and liquor laced crowd, Sumner had a
bad feel-ing. And not just because of who he knew was contacting him at the moment. Things were being set into motion, things were changing.

  Tonight was the night.

  Once he was far enough away from anyone wanting to locate the unmanned king of Westbrooke High, Sumner slipped the familiar burner phone from his jacket sleeve and answered the imperious call.

  “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about me.” Sumner sneered into the phone.

  The woman on the other end was clearly distraught over the contact immersed between them, a loose grip on her breathing. It was new, this interaction between them. It was only about a month ago that Sumner had learned the truth, and it had been driving him utterly insane to not spill the treacherous truth to his friends. But these things needed planning, these things needed to happen at just the right moment with just the right people. The woman on the phone with Sumner was one of those people.

  “Blackmail is one of those hard things to dismiss.” She snarled, a hoard of needles poking out of her tone, ready to attack Sumner with the edges of her words.

  She clearly had no idea who she was dealing with.

  He laughed at her futile crack to dislocate his composure. “Well, when you put it like that, it does tend to take on a dismal context.”

  “What do you want, Sumner? Enough games. Quit wasting my time and tell me how we can end this What is it going to take to make this, to make you, go away forever?”

  He’d been right. This was it. Everything was in place, shifting ac-cordingly. Not even the stars could have aligned such a perfect pre-amble to the night. It was happening. After a sufferable month of silence, it all ended tonight.

  Tonight was the night.

  “Armor Falls Cemetery. Be there in an hour. Tonight will be the last you hear of me. I swear on my mother’s grave.”

  “It better be.” The woman snidely dictated. If there was one thing Sumner could appreciate, it was someone who attempted to equal his own perspicacity. “Or else your wretch of a mother would no longer have a son to be disappointed in, when I took care of you myself.”

  The woman hung up, and left Sumner to break his astute exteri-or. He growled, both out loud and in the black scribble of his mind. It was as if his mind was a blank piece of paper, and he was attempting to make a perfect circle with a black crayon while someone angrily manipulated the sheet of paper. He had underestimated her ability to get under his skin, and he’d let it affect him. So much so, that he felt the slipping of his usual veil, the one that kept him from losing complete control of the plan and unleashing his wrath on all those that dared to defy him.

  And that’s how Abram found him, approaching him like Sumner had about five seconds before he created a billowing inferno of vexa-tion.

  “Sumner, hey.”

  His best friend's neck snapped over to Abram so fast, the latter thought he heard an echoing crack, Sumner's eyes searing targets in-to Abram’s own.

  “What do you want?”

  “Whoa.” Abram continued to near his friend, caution gushing through every nerve he possessed. “What’s the matter with you?”

  “Get out of my way, Abraham.”

  “Not my name, dick.”

  Sumner pushed past him, throwing a shoulder against Abram’s, propelling him backwards, so that he was stumbling over the lush lawn to remain standing.

  Abram had never seen Sumner so detached from normalcy. The vibes falling from his friend scared him, venomous tendrils whirling within and seeping out of Sumner like demonic, inebriated fireflies. Abram just surveyed as his friend dissolved into the swarm of popu-lation partying all over. And he was beginning to think that tonight just might be the night Sumner Shadows lost himself.

  It was about thirty minutes later before his friends found him. Bridge had just left a boys’ dorm room after some very hot heavy-petting with the questioning senior he had been making out with earlier in the night. He was feeling pretty great as he weaved through the masses. Only trouble was that he didn’t spot any of his friends lingering within the throes of the party. Lissa and Abram had long left the area they had formerly resided, and there were no traces of Harley and Mercer grinding together off-key and void of rhythm. And Lord knew where Sumner was hiding himself.

  “Hey,” Bridge stopped an indiscriminate someone passing by him. “Have you seen Sumner Shadows?”

  “Yeah, he told Jacobs he had to get the fuck out of here.”

  “Thanks.” The guy left him prior to telling Bridge who this om-niscient ‘Jacobs’ individual was.

  “B.”

  Following his nickname’s utterance, he grinned up at Mercer, whose expression seemed focal to the phone he cradled in his hand, right next to his heart.

  “Everything alright? Where’s Harley?”

  “Headed home,” Mercer mentioned flippantly, having larger is-sues at hand than the current whereabouts of his girlfriend, such as the phone resonating visibly along the lines of his palm. “Did you get the same text?”

  Silencing any feedback, Bridge took in the scene of Lissa and Abram pushing past several people to get to them.

  “Did you guys get the text?”

  “What text?” Bridge scoffed, his eyes rolling on cue.

  Mercer tilted his head toward his shorter best friend. “From Sumner.”

  Bridge’s phone buzzed in immaculate segue, displaying a new text from the missing member of their best friend brigade.

  Armor Falls Cemetery. Now.

  “Why the fuck is Sumner at a cemetery?” Bridge exhaled as ex-haustion and exasperation rocked on his knuckles. “And we all got this text?” The successive tipping of their heads was all the clarity Bridge deemed essential.

  “Earlier, he was being super weird,” Abram used in addition. “Evasive, manic, douchey. Make that mega-douchey.”

  An energetic, embroidered scoff escaped past Mercer’s mouth, his eyes slick with hesitancy. “We’re going, aren’t we?”

  Walking around a cemetery late at night was altogether as one would have perceived when dwelling on late night strolls where the dead roamed recklessly. The four friends were ambling in between rows upon rows of the deceased, gravestones bearing the names of those lost by the living. And the idea of Sumner needing to enact a tryst with them here was already encapsulating them in aromatic fear.

  “Sumner?” Abram belched, scanning the grounds for some visible sign of occupancy, but the field of the departed was void of much ruckus, the only things in clear view being a discarded shovel and a pile of random building equipment.

  “You can stop,” Lissa demanded as she grabbed Abram’s hand, her whole body fighting the frigid air of the night for warmth. “You’ve succeeded in scaring our souls out of us.”

  They heard some rustling to their right, the moon beaming down on them when they saw another headstone, only this one held a colossal significance.

  “Look.”

  Obliging Mercer’s automatic maneuver and reading the grave, the friends realized why Sumner had arrived here, even if his reasoning was still ambiguous.

  The stone read, ‘Marjorie Cobbins Shadows. Beloved sister, wife, and mother. May your brightness always cast the biggest shadow’.

  “Why did he come here? Why would he do that to himself?”

  Nodding at Bridge, Lissa added, “Why tonight?”

  Sumner jumped out from behind a nearby bush by the wooded outskirts of the cemetery, panic and despair melting his face to al-most complete unrecognition. He tackled Abram, seeking him out over the others. The pair hit the ground hard, their friends scram-bling to make sense of what their eyes were presently viewing.

  “This is your fault!” Sumner seethed, incisors catching air as they were exposed from his open jaw, a crystal indication of just how en-raged he was. He was a boy berserk, everything but foam forming between his teeth and eroding his enamel.

  “Sumner, get off of him!” Lissa cried, searching around for something to attack her crazed companion with, her friends quickly doin
g the same.

  “I’ll kill you!” He landed a punch against Abram’s jaw, repeating the brutish bit as he faced the rest of them. “I’ll kill all of you!”

  Having found a since forgotten shovel by someone tending to the cemetery preceding their incursion, Mercer quickly acquired and then swung the landscaping instrument roughly at Sumner’s temple. He went tumbling, no longer on top of a still startled Abram, his remaining friends helping him to his shaky feet while Mercer’s entire soul went limp.

  “Oh, God.” He dropped the shovel, his hands flying to his face as he stood over Sumner’s motionless body lying on the ground. “What did I do?”

  “We have to go.” Lissa said, already pulling an emotionally stunted Abram from the scene at hand.

  “Mercer,” Bridge tiptoed closer to his best friend, glancing from him to Sumner, who was still unmoving, and back again. “We need to get out of here. People are going to ask questions.”

  “Like how we killed him?” He choked on a sob, swallowing his sorrow as it etched razorblade slits on the way down his throat.

  A loud grunt of incoherence barged out of Sumner’s mouth, his body seizing ferociously in a single spasm. But his eyelids were still crippling drapes on his face, indicating his depleting motion.

  “See? No one killed anyone tonight.” Bridge slid a hand into Mercer’s, gently leading him away from the crippled crazie coming to on the terrain adjacent to them. “We gotta go.”

  They began to jog after Lissa and Abram, who were doing the same thing as they made their way across the other side of the ceme-tery. That’s when a deafening scream pierced the air, alarming all of them, a sudden awareness that the wail of anguish was emitting from the fallen Sumner Shadows.