8
Where do you go when you’re alone, filled with so much fear, confusion and guilt?
Where do you go when there’s a gaping hole in the middle of your chest, widening with each mile away from the woman who died right in front of your eyes while you did nothing about it?
I feel cold, so damn cold and numb. I don’t know if I should let the scream lodged in my throat out or not.
I don’t know why I’m not breaking apart, bawling my eyes out. Isn’t that what people do with grief? Try to let it out so it doesn’t consume them from within?
But what do you do when everything feels surreal? What do you do with this mess? It’s all been lies and deceit from the start, and now, Nancy is dead.
I grip the steering wheel of the car dad bought me when I believed he was a good man. Back then I refused to see the monster that lurked within, but it was always there I glance at the rearview mirror for the tenth time since I left Palos Verdes, but I’m alone.
I have no idea where I’m going or what I’m going to do next. There’s a hollowness in my chest and the tighter I hold the steering wheel, the tighter the constriction in my chest gets.
I feel like I’m about to get a panic attack.
Pulling over on the side of the road, a scream of frustration tears out of me. I punch the steering wheel, my heart beating wildly like it wants out of my chest. I start clawing there as the numbness fades like the melting of ice until I start feeling… everything.
Clenching my eyes shut, I see Nancy’s body spasming out of control. I see her gasping for breath. I see her with her eyes wide open, staring at me, pleading for help.
And I did nothing.
“Ahh!” I punch the steering wheel again, making pain shoot up my arm. I welcome it though, a quick reprieve to the pain inside me.
I did absolutely nothing. I just stood there as she died.
With sweaty fingers, I grab handle and open the door and practically throw myself out. I can’t stand to be in this car a second longer.
I can’t breathe.
I don’t even know where I am. I claw at my chest some more, feeling like there’s something pressing down there that I need to loosen by any means possible.
My vision is swarming like I’m having some kind of attack. I lie of the hard, rocky ground, panting for breath. There’s a burning sensation in my stomach though, like some kind of acid is brewing in there but I clamp my mouth shut, refusing to take that next step or letting another scream rip out of me.
Anger is the best right now. I have to hold on to anger. But the thing about me, I’ve never been good with emotions. I don’t know how to process them. I don’t know which is which.
Sometimes anger feels a lot like a chilling coldness that freezes my veins. Resentment is numb. And love? Well, that’s a lying emotion. I guess Roxy was right; love was a meaningless emotion, felt by meaningless people with nowhere meaningful to go. The only thing she didn’t mention was how that meaningless emotion hurts—not that I’d expect her to have a reference point, she wasn’t the loving kind.
And I thought I wasn’t either, but as soon as I close my eyes, I see Julian’s gorgeous face and my heart starts hurting all over again.
I have no idea how long I stay lying there, staring up at the dusky twilight morning sky, rocks and stones biting into my back. It might have days, or hours but I know it’s more like a few minutes of dizzying pain.
After the thing in my chest starts hurting less, I force myself to get up. I don’t want to lie here for long. It’ll just draw unwanted attention to myself. I need to move, or the guilt will swallow me whole—and at this rate, I might let it.
I need to come up with a plan on where to go next. But more than that, I need to know why.
Why did Nicky make me do this?
What is she afraid of?
What did she mean about my father?
What am I missing?
What other secrets are lurking in the dark?
What about Liam and Julian? Where they in on everything?
With that in mind, I quickly get in the car and grab the backpack Nicky packed for me. Opening it, I rummage through the contents. I pull out wads of money. Where did she get this?
I pull out the documents she gave me and notice the name there: Amy Hazel.
Hazel?
That’s Nicky and Nancy’s last name.
I study the picture in the passport and on the ID. The girl looks just like me. From her hair, to her high-cheek bones and her nose, her eyes, everything about her is like me and as I look closer, I realize why, the girl in the pictures is me. But I have no idea when this picture was taken. Why would Nicky have this? And who is Amy?
I have nothing to go on with here, nowhere to start looking, no one to ask because well, I’ve always been lacking in the family department.
All my life, it’s always been Nicky, Nancy and dad, but he was almost always never there. My grandmother passed when I was born, and no one talks about her and if they do, it was always in contempt. I suspected there was bad blood there.
I look into the bag again and my hand touches a small paper. Pulling it out, I notice a number scribbled there. It has to be a phone number, but whose? I know Nicky’s number by head and it’s not this.
I don’t have any other family or friends. I have a number of enemies, of course, people who would rather see me fall than succeed at anything. That fact hasn’t been so obvious to me until recently, but I think I have a foe who might help me.
It’s stupid to think that, but in high school, there’s a lot that can happen. It’s a coin toss more than anything and I’ve run out of luck. I think I knew that from the moment Julian held me up against that damn tree the night of the disastrous race.
Since then, it’s been one tragedy after another and I’ve only managed to hold on because somewhere deep down in me, I thought I wasn’t alone. I thought he actually cared, but God, was I wrong about the whole thing.
First, I need to ditch this car like Nicky instructed. I have no idea if I’m ever going to see her again, but I need to find a way to go back for her. She’s the only one I’ve got left. Which means, number two, I need to get a phone.
With a sketchy plan in mind, I quickly pack the bag again, stuffing everything in. I’ll have a more thorough look when I’m settled somewhere with a clear head.
Getting out of the car, I go around and pop the trunk trunk open.
“Yes!” I whisper in relief noticing the pair of boots and trainers I left in here. There’s also a change of clothes.
I have no idea why Nancy and Nicky always insisted that I keep trainers and boots in the car, always, no matter what. I have no idea why they did it themselves, but they always kept a change of clothes and different pairs of shoes in their cars, like they were ready for a quick escape. It didn’t make sense to me as Nancy never left to go anywhere other than to dance and spend millions, and Nicky was always too unstable to settle anywhere, but I did as they asked anyway and now, there’s a sinking suspicion in my gut about this fucked up ritual of theirs.
God, there’s so much I don’t know. Have I always been this clueless?
Quickly, I remove the shoes I was wearing when Julian took me to the party and wear the trainers instead.
I stuff the boots in the backpack, and then arrange the shoes I was wearing in such a manner that anyone who might come looking would think that I struggled with someone else. I leave one shoe on the road, a few feet from the car, then the other I chuck it on the floor of the driver’s side.
I stand back and look at the scene before me. My car looks like it was just parked there with a hurry, but to an unobservant eye, they might think that another car ran mt car off the road.
The criminal intention of my actions is not lost on me, but if the Fitzgeralds are after me then they have a rude awakening coming their way!
Looking around, I spot a sizable rock on the ground. I pick it up and smash the driver’s window in.
The shattering of glass reverberates through me, the sound so jarring that for a moment, I think I hear the sound of Nancy gasping for breath mixed with Julian’s drunken, yet honest, rant. I stand stock still, looking down at the shattered glass, the rock firmly in my hand.
What am I doing? What’s the purpose of following the direction of a woman whose intentions are sketchy at best? A shiver goes down my spine as I take in the mess around me.
There’s no going back now. It’s already done. It’s time to see how all this plays out.
I have no idea what game this has graduated to but Nicky asked me to trust her. This is the part where I do just that, so I stuff the rock in my backpack as well. I’m not taking a chance that the police might get involved in this. They already have my name as a suspect for Liam’s attempted murder. That too, is still hovering over me, just waiting.
I look at the car, and make sure to leave the driver’s door open. In the spur of the moment, I cut my finger with the broken bits on the glass, then spread the blood on surfaces I can touch. The door, the seat, the steering wheel; I leave drops of my blood and then stand back.
I leave the trunk open as well and leave the keys right beside my lone shoe. I pull on my backpack and without a second glance, I start walking toward the station I passed a mile back.
I know I’m doing the opposite of what I was told but fuck that shit! I’m going back to Palos Verdes.
I need answers!
9
I look up at the ratty, old house with a. ceiling that might fall in with a light breeze as I stand on the sidewalk with weeds everywhere.
It’s quiet like there’s no one home. The blinds are down, but I know she’s in there. Where else would she go?
The last time I was in this part of town, I was maybe in sophomore year. Curiosity and a bit of bitterness at her actions and words had made me follow her home, wanting to see where she lived, and my snooping led me to the other side of the tracks.
I can’t say I was surprised though. The fake Swiss brands she used to wear at school, the way she used to try and desperately fit in, it was all done to cover up her true identity. I mean, I’m not judging her, apparently, I’m now poor myself, but still, Kristine was a liar, a hater and right now, the only one who might have the answers I need.
She might not want to see me but I’m still going to try.
I’m pretty sure that this is a bad idea. A lot can go wrong and I know this is dangerous, seeing as the reputation I’ve made for myself as the Ice Queen of Clintwood made her hate me. Even when I last saw her, I embarrassed the hell out of her, in front of the entire school no less, so now showing up on her doorstep is a step too far, even for me, but here I am like the stubborn bitch she has called me countless of times, behind my back, then to my face once.
But what else can I do? I’d rather see where this goes, so I walk up to the front door and knock, before my nerves get the better of me.
I wait for a few seconds, thinking that there’s no one home but right before I turn around to walk away, I hear something. The door cracks open, revealing a puffy eyed Kristine.
Her eyes widen as soon as she sees it’s me, then she goes to close the door but I beat her to it.
“What are you doing here?” she croaks, her voice hoarse. Her eyes are red like she’s been crying and I think I know why. “How did you know this is my house?”
“Hey Kristine,” I start, keeping my voice level and soft. I don’t want to spook her or intimidate her or let he know that I basically stalked her. “May I come in?
“What do you want?”
“I think we need to talk, don’t you?”
I watch her closely, waiting for her to make up her mind. She looks nervous, her forehead is actually doted with sweat.
“I don’t think I have anything to say, not you, bitch.” Ahh, there’s that vindictiveness. Good, I can handle that.
“That’s not true and you know it,” I press. “I just need to ask you a few questions and I’ll leave you alone.”
“You’re crazy for coming out here,” she whispers hotly.
Yeah well, she isn’t saying anything I’m not aware of myself. The fact that I’m here, wanting to find out more about the rivalry between the Matthews and the Fitz brothers, is stupid. I should be trying to find out more about my father and Nicky, but instead, here I am.
“Why?” I ask. “Why do you say that?”
I hold her stare for a few seconds, then in one fell swoop, the door opens wider, then she pulls me in and shuts the door so fast I’m still stunned at her quick reflexes.
“What the hell were you thinking coming here? You do know you have something like a bounty on your head?”
That turns my stomach, as my mind flashes back to the night at the Devil’s Track when Julian’s car blew up. If Liam hadn’t jumped out… a shudder rolls down my spine.
“A bounty on my head?”
“You know what I’m talking about,” she says, staring at me with a frown on her face. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
“Are you all right?”
She runs past me with a hand over her mouth, and dashes toward the bathroom off the hallway and then she starts throwing up.
Feeling sorry for her, I drop my bag in the hallway and go after her. I find her kneeling in front of the toilet, puking her guts out, so I just stand behind her and hold her hair back, rubbing her back.
We’re silent when she’s done.
I go to grab her a glass of cold water and she accepts it without looking at me, her eyes shifting from left to right.
I lean back on the door frame, watching her pale reflection in the mirror as I wait for her to speak.
“I know what you’re thinking,” she starts, her voice groggy.
“I’m not thinking of anything at all.”
“You were never a very good liar.”
“I’ve had a bit of practice since we last had an actual, meaningful heart to heart,” I mutter and she scoffs.
“A heart to heart? With the Ice Queen of Clintwood Academy?” She scoffs again.
“I don’t care what you want to call it. You haven’t been honest with me either in the past few years so, yeah. I’d say we are the same.”
But unlike her, I’d never set her up to take the fall for an attempted murder! Jesus.
“Oh yeah? What do you want, Mia, huh?”
“I want you to tell me the truth.”
She eyes me through the mirror, and I notice something in her vacant expression that raises the hairs at the back of my neck. That look is so familiar, I feel like I just saw it on my face.
Fear.
Pure, unadulterated fear
“Kristine,” I start, taking a step closer to her. “Are you all right?”
She looks away, her shoulders shaking.
“Please don’t pretend like you care,” she whispers. “You’ve never cared about me.”
“Is that what you think?” I question, a frown on my face.
“What else is there for me to think, Mia?” she fires back, turning around now to look at me. “You’ve always had everything together. Mia Montague, always well dressed with a perfect smile on your face, clever retorts and clap backs on your tongue that everyone adores. Good Lord nothing and no one can touch you. All iced up and fearless, why would I think that you care about little ole me?”
I’m silent as I look at the girl I’ve called my best friend for so long, I have no idea where we had this falling out that has led us to this. Even after all the warnings from Rye and Jaz about Kristine’s shitty character, I have no idea why I’ve remained friends with her.
Is it because I didn’t have it in me to make any other friends or is it that I wanted to keep my enemies even closer than friends? If that’s so, look where that got me.
“Is that why you did it then?” I question silently. “You were jealous of my perfect ice mask and how I carried myself, so you helped them destroy me?”
She doesn’t bother acting con
fused. She knows exactly what I’m talking about.
“Yeah, maybe I was jealous,” she starts, her voice hard. “Or maybe I felt like you abandoned me, but all the decisions I’ve made in my life are my own.”
“So, in other words, you signed away my life to those bastards because you hate me, huh?”
“Yes!” she shouts, tears now streaming down her face. “I hate you, Mia! I’ve hated your almost perfect life since we were kids. I’ve hated that somewhere along the way from middle school to now, you got all stuck up and forgot all about me.”
The fuck?
“My mother was sick,” I start, my voice monotone like everything is just fine. The numbness is back. There’s so much wrong with what I just said. “There was a lot going on in my personal life.”
“Right, yes, like what, Mia?” she scoffs. “What could be so bad in your neatly, organized and perfect world?”
Where do I begin with that question?
Do I start with the little fact that Nancy isn’t my mother and my aunt is my mother? Do I tell her that Nancy is dead and it’s all my fault? Do I tell her all about the mess with Julian and Liam? Where do I start?
“In case your black heart is too far gone to feel anything, Kristine, my mother was sick for a long time. I had to focus on her, to take care of her…”
“Yeah, now I know that.”
“You know?” I question with a frown. How does she know?
“Yeah, it’s all over the news and online, haven’t you see it?”
Oh my God. “Seen what? What are you talking about?”
Kristine looks at me strangely, a frown on her face. Then she leaves the bathroom and I follow after her, anxiety now bubbling like hot lava in my stomach.
“Like I said, they’re talking about your mom’s ALS.”
Oh shit. The world knows.
“They are saying that your mom’s been sick for 3 years now,” she says that like she wants a confirmation, so I clamp my mouth shut, waiting for her as she types something on her phone. When she passes it to me, it’s right there, with the headlines to match.
It’s like I’ve been hit by a sense of déjà vu, only this time the headlines aren’t talking about Aiden Fitzgerald with sickening articles filled with speculations and lies. This time, they’re talking about my family.
Cruel Kisses: It’s Just High School #2 Page 10