“Oh really?” Emma asked. “You should go! Show this dude he doesn't hold any power over you.”
“I don't know,” Lizzie sighed. “I don't feel safe outside of my room.”
“What could be safer than being in a building full of people? I heard the rugby team is gonna be at this one – you literally couldn't be safer anywhere else.”
“You think? I just ... what if he's there?” she whispered. Emma frowned, then leaned across the table and put her hand over the other girl's.
“Then hopefully you'll catch him and those other dudes can beat him to a pulp,” she said, and Stacey barked out a laugh.
“That really does seem like a good plan. Oh! Maybe you can like lure him there!”
Yes yes yes, let's lure him there, girls. What a fun party it will be.
“No,” Lizzie shook her head fast. “No, I won't do that.”
“Okay, okay, fine. But please, come?”
“Maybe ...”
“You haven't been to one party since you've been here. It's probably your best chance at meeting someone. Maybe even someone who knows who's doing it,” Stacey suggested. Emma nodded her head.
Yeah, right. The only other person who knows never speaks to any of you, so good luck with that theory.
“Okay,” Lizzie finally capitulated. “I mean, maybe.”
“Yes! I'm taking that as a yes,” Stacey laughed. “Want me to pick you up, too, Emma?”
“Who, me? No, I can't go,” she replied, thinking fast. She didn't want to commit to anything, not without talking to Church first. Not without establishing an alibi.
“Why not? You have to! It's Lizzie's first party here, she'll need support,” Stacey insisted. Emma shook her head.
“Can't. I promised Margo's husband I'd let Church tutor me – it's the only reason they haven't kicked me out yet. So I get to do some family bonding time. You'll have to drink all the alcohol for me,” she said.
“That is so lame. When are you off from house arrest?” Stacey asked.
“Sometime next century? Or after midterms,” Emma chuckled. “Look, have an awesome time at the party, Lizzie, okay? When I see you on Monday, I want to hear all about it. Let me live vicariously through you. Promise me you'll go.”
Jesus, Emma wasn't sure whether to be ashamed or proud of herself. She so easily slipped back and forth between torturer and advocator. How easily lies spilled from her lips. It was almost more like she was a puppet. The amazing talking girl doll! She opens her mouth, and presto, Church's words spill forth! Of course he didn't need to speak – she could just do all his talking for him.
But if I do this for him, then it won't be my voice, or his, it'll just be ours. Together. All the time. Such a little price to pay.
“I'll go,” Lizzie said, with something like the ghost of a smile on her lips. “But Stacey, you have to promise to stick by my side the whole time.”
“Oh, of course, of course! This is just the thing you need, I promise. We have to pick out an outfit for you! What do you think about ...”
While the conversation devolved into talk about clothing and makeup, Emma tuned them out. Eventually said her goodbyes and walked away from the table.
She couldn't believe how easily she'd maneuvered them into the perfect situation for her. Church hadn't been lying, Emma had really been made for him. Who else could've lured in his victim so sweetly for him?
No one else. Just me. And he'll see that, this weekend. He'll see that I'm a tornado, that I'm a tidal wave, earthquake, hurricane ... that I'm everything he could ever possibly want.
EMMA KNEW EXACTLY HOW many minutes it took to drive from Lizzie's student housing to the party. She knew the average amount of alcohol it took to get someone of Lizzie's height, weight, and age drunk.
And thanks to her new textbook, she also now knew where the choicest arteries were on the human body. Of course, the jugular was a popular one. If cut, the brachial artery could kill in just a few pumps of the heart, as well. But it was on the inside of the bicep, would be hidden from view. Hard to get to. Not flashy enough. If she was going to help Church do this, if she was going to end a life, well then – it was going to be goddamn spectacular.
The thighs had some nice big arteries. The femoral in particular was responsible for supplying blood to the entire leg. Gruesome, gory, and inappropriate. She figured that would cover all Church's bases.
It would also be quick and relatively painless – which covered Emma's own personal bases.
When she told Church about her idea, he'd seemed pleased, but distracted. He seemed distracted a lot of the time, anymore. He'd commanded that they do this, told her the act would bind them together forever. Nothing like a felony to act in place of vows. But more and more, it felt like he was pulling back.
Was he doubting her? Paranoia began to taint every emotion, and she worked double time to prove herself to him. She was basically taking a second course in anatomy, all on her own. She cleaned and sharpened his knife, became familiar with it.
Part of her wondered if maybe he was doubting himself. She hated that thought. He was amazing, he just needed to realize it. She wouldn't allow him to be scared. She promised that when the time came, she would make sure everything was done correctly. She would do it all. He wouldn't have to lift a hand, just stand and observe. Take in all he had wrought.
“So you've really never done this before?” she whispered into the darkness.
It was Friday, potentially less than twenty-four hours before she irrevocably committed herself to him. They didn't quite have a solid plan, but if a moment presented itself, they would take it.
Church stepped out from behind a tree. They were in the woods alongside the house where the party would take place.
“I've never murdered anyone, no,” he whispered back, folding his arms across his chest. She walked up close to him.
“I bet you've tried, though,” she said, wrapping her arms around herself and rubbing her hands up and down.
“What makes you think that?”
“Your academic suspension,” she said, smiling big. Church never spoke about what had gotten him suspended, but it was easy enough to assume. Clearly he'd gone off the rails at school before being sent home. Then meeting Emma, well, that had just derailed him completely.
Good thing we both love a crash.
“What about it?” he asked.
“You must have done something bad,” she said. “Jerry told me you were dean's list, on some big scholarship. They just don't send people like you away without a good reason. Was there someone else? Was she as pretty as me?”
He took a deep breath and stared over the top of her head.
“No, Emma. There's never been anyone else for me. Just you.”
“Awww, sweet words, but I think you lie,” she laughed. “Was there another poor girl who caught your eye back at Columbia? Maybe one with rich parents and a privileged life? Did they find you spying on her? Stalking her?”
“Emma, I didn't -”
“Did you hurt her?” she whispered, suddenly worried. The excitement Church got from doing bad things, the rush ... she didn't want him experiencing that with anyone else. It was hard enough allowing him to share it with Lizzie.
“I didn't do anything,” he growled. “It ... it wasn't like that. I was burned out. My grades started slipping, I was in danger of losing my scholarship. So they told me to take a break.”
Emma scowled at him.
“I don't buy that.”
“Why not?”
“Because what are the chances? You just happened to get burnt out and had to take a break just a couple of weeks before you found the perfect first sacrifice? I think something happened there that caused you to come here looking for more of the same. You can tell me, Church. I won't judge you,” she assured him.
“You wanna know what happened to bring me to this moment? I took a breath, and then I ran into you. I was fine until you. You with your fucking mouth that never quits, makin
g me feel like I can do all these things I've always wanted to do. Just you, okay? Nothing happened at Columbia – you just happened here.”
He'd spit the words out quick, as if they'd been poisoning him. She felt a little strange, as well. Was he blaming Lizzie's upcoming death on Emma? Like she'd somehow goaded him into talking her into doing this? That didn't even make sense.
Yet on the other hand ... she made him feel like he could do things. Made him feel like himself. She gave him a small smile.
“Okay. I'm sorry. I believe you.”
This just seemed to make him more upset.
“Whatever. Fuck this. Are we done here?” he snapped, then started walking out of the treeline on his own. She hurried to keep up.
“Hey! You're the one pushing for this!” she snapped back. “You're the one acting like this murder is a train you need to catch.”
“Because,” he groaned, raking his fingers through his hair. He looked distraught – an emotion she'd never seen him express before, so she couldn't tell if it was real or not. “If we don't do it now, it won't happen, and this has to happen. Just ... I need you to do something else for me.”
They came to a stop beside a rental car. His own car was still sitting outside the school, for all the world like he'd forgotten it existed.
“Something else?” Emma laughed, though it sounded more like a cackle. “Sure, why not. What is it?”
“Just ... promise me you'll keep loving me,” he said, shocking her. “No matter what happens. Okay? You said you love me – that means forever.”
She blinked her eyes rapidly in surprise.
“Of course, Church. Of course. No matter what.”
“We're in this together,” he whispered, leaning down close to her.
“We are,” she assured him.
“And you love me.”
Why was he suddenly so nervous about that? Emma reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck.
“We're in this together,” she breathed. “And I will love you no matter what happens. I will do everything in my power to do whatever it is you want, I promise. I promise you, Church.”
He sighed and his eyes fell shut.
“I don't deserve you, Emma.”
And that was the most bizarre thing he'd ever said to her.
“Maybe not,” she managed to tease him, trying to lighten up the tense, scary moment they were having. “But now you're stuck with me.”
“Jesus, I hope so. Look – are you good to walk home? I've got some stuff I've gotta take care of,” he said, pulling away from her. She gawked at him.
“Now? Church, I don't know if you remember, but we're supposed to be plotting and carrying out the murder of another human being. Is now really the time for you to disappear?” she asked.
“I'm not disappearing. I just need to ... talk to someone. Figure something out,” he told her. “Do not do anything without me.”
Emma stared at him. Was this a test? Was he testing to see if she'd really go through with it? Maybe he wanted her to act on her own, stand on her two feet. Prove her worth without him. Was that it?
“If we don't do this soon,” she spoke slowly. “We might not get to at all. Thanksgiving break is coming up, and thanks to our little campaign of terror, she may not come back. Is that a risk you're willing to take?”
Church stared off into the middle distance for a moment. Then he nodded his head.
“I know. Don't do a thing till you hear from me.”
He abruptly dropped into the driver's seat and turned on the car. Emma stepped out of the way when he shut his door, but before she could leave, he was rolling down the window.
“Something else?” she asked, leaning down. He reached out and combed his fingers into her hair, pulling her closer to him.
“Say it one more time,” he whispered. “Please.”
Emma smiled.
“I love you, Church Logan.”
He didn't smile.
“Sometimes ...” he started, then paused for a moment. “Sometimes, I almost believe you really do.”
Before she could question that statement, he was gone, peeling out of his spot, and she was left all alone in the cold dark.
CHURCH.
It's so easy. She'll do everything. Her fingerprints on the knife, her holding it, her covered in blood.
And because she loves me, she'll take the complete blame for it. Might even actually blame herself for it.
It's beautiful, my house of cards.
So why do I want to tear it down?
Emma loves me. Through everything and despite everything, she really does love me. How did that happen? And worse still, she understands me.
I've been alone in the dark for so long, I actually thought I was the only person who could exist within it. Then in walks Emma, with her beautiful smile hiding her jagged soul. Just destroying everything around me, taking me by surprise and sweeping me off my feet.
I'm an idiot. She doesn't need to do anything. She doesn't need to prove anything. Emma already is a force of nature. A goddamn earthquake, reducing me to my foundations.
And when I rebuild, I want to do it with her.
I want us to be more. Braver. Better versions of the monsters we were. She was right, bullying is beneath me. Revenge is beneath me. It's tainted me, made me unclean. I have to purge those thoughts, those feelings, and start over again. Start from a blank canvas.
After all, a tornado doesn't kill because the air wants revenge on the earth.
A tornado kills because it can. Because it's there. Because it exists.
Now all I have to do is put a stop to this train wreck I started.
EMMA.
I'm a crazy girl.
I've known this for a long time.
Depression. Borderline personality. Addictive personality. Probably a healthy dose of PTSD in there, too.
It's cost me friendships and relationships over the years. Some I jumped into too quickly, took them too seriously, gave them too much of myself.
Others I pushed away, wanting to avoid the mistakes of the past.
I should probably be on a whole bevy of drugs. I blame Margo. She never took me to a real psychologist, and besides, even if she ever had, she probably would've stolen the drugs and sold them for money.
I've thought about it a lot. Yes, Church holds some sort of power over me. Yes, I know he sometimes uses that power to his advantage. Manipulates me. Uses me. I'm aware of all this.
But you see, I still don't care. I'm still his missing puzzle piece. I'm still the only person he wants to talk to, still the only one who makes him feel alive. I hold all his pieces, he belongs to me.
Without me, he wouldn't really exist.
Or maybe I'm just fucking crazy, and nothing is what it seems.
15
Something wasn't right.
Of course, considering what she was planning on doing with her evening, Emma figured nothing should feel right.
But still. Something was off.
Church never came home the night before – something he hadn't done in a while. He didn't respond to text messages. She never bothered with calling him. Church wasn't exactly a phone kind of guy.
So she paced around Jerry's house, wringing her hands, wondering what she should do. His absence always left her empty, at loose ends. Church had told her not to do anything without him, but had he meant it? The hours were slipping by, should she at least go to the party? Maybe he was already there, waiting for her.
“Something wrong, dear?”
Emma stopped pacing long enough to look around. Jesus, Jerry was sitting at the fucking table. How long had he been there? He blended in so well with the all beige décor.
“Just ... a stressful week,” she responded, going back to her pacing.
“I'm sure. Want some advice, Emma?”
She glanced at him, then stopped and stared. He was watching her. Making eye contact with her.
Who is this guy, and what has he done with Jerry?
“Relax,” he said. “Paul has always been a free spirit, he comes and goes as he pleases. I learned long ago to let him do as he wants – he eventually always comes home.”
“I'm not ... Church can do what he wants,” Emma said, forgetting to use his real name with his father.
“I know how you feel about him, Emma.”
“You do?”
“Yes. You and I,” Jerry slowly pulled himself to his feet, stunning her. “We have a lot more in common than you think. We both speak his language. I saw it right away with you. You understand him. You have no idea what that means to me. His mother hurt him, as a child, I don't know if he's told you. I didn't know for a long time. And ever since then, he's been sort of leery of women. Doesn't let them get too close. So to see you taking care of him, watching out for him, and him allowing it? Well, I don't care what your mother says. I'm glad you two have each other. I think you were meant for each other.”
When he stopped speaking, he stopped moving, just a few feet shy of her. Emma gaped at him.
I think we've all been underestimating ol' Jerry.
“What makes you say that? That we're meant for each other?” she whispered. He shrugged and closed the distance between them.
“The way he looks at you. Speaks to you. He lives inside his head all the time. You bring all his thoughts out into the real world,” he said. She frowned.
“What if that's not a good thing? What if his thoughts are ... bad?” she asked, then immediately felt guilty. Like she was betraying Church. She tried to make up for it. “What if I'm just making everything worse? What if I'm making him worse?”
“Oh, Emma,” Jerry chuckled, then he moved to step past her. “My son is perfection. There is nothing you could do to him to make him less than what he is right now. You can only build him up. You're exactly what he needs in his life right now – someone to get him through this rocky patch. I'm so glad you came into our lives.”
With an awkward pat on her shoulder, he was past her and shuffling down the hallway.
Church. Page 16