16. Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Sixteen
Levi
This is it.
I've set things in motion tonight that can't be undone. Sometime tonight Zack will understand the true definition of totally fucked . It’s taken me weeks of planning and waiting for just the right opportunity to get here. It took forever to find people I could trust, people who know how to keep their mouths shut to help me. Zack has no idea what's coming for him, but by the time it's over and the shock of it wears off, he'll know he messed with the wrong person. Good luck putting the blame where it belongs though. As far as anyone knows I'm with Sunny tonight—have been and will be all night.
Normally, I'd never do anything that would involve Sunny, even as an alibi, in something like this. But it just happened to be unavoidably convenient this one time. And it benefits her too. A little something extra to make her night even better. It's a gift she'd never ask for, but I know she'll like. She might not ever know that I was the one responsible for getting Zack out of her life, and that's okay. At least she won't have to worry about the asshole bothering her anymore.
He thinks he's won. I've made a point of letting him think that. Hell, I've let everyone think it. Not my fault he's stupid enough to underestimate me.
Even after what happened in the parking lot that day, it was so easy for him to believe I was afraid of him. It made this plan so much easier. It made him confident. So confident that he quit locking his car doors. So confident he actually started falling for his own bullshit and believing he's untouchable. He doesn't think anyone would dare do anything to fuck with him. What an idiot.
The drugs were easy to get and even easier to stash. I planted them in his car earlier. Tucked them down into the shitty, smelly gym bag he tosses into his backseat after every practice. It was only a few pills, some weed, a bundle of small baggies and a small digital scale. Not enough to get him any big boy time, but more than enough to make sure everything he cares about is taken away from him. If someone were to find it.
And they will.
I called earlier and left a message with the cop who was kind enough to give me his card that afternoon at Sunny's. Tipped him off about the party at Ryan's tonight. Told him that I was really worried about Zack, and how deep into drugs he was getting lately. Took less than a five minute phone call, and some fake concern to make sure Zack’s car gets searched. It’ll be a controlled bust. Zack won’t have a clue who set him up. He’ll just know that his future’s gone to hell. Those football scholarships he’s been banking on? Gone. His reputation? Destroyed.
I glance at my phone. 7:00 p.m. Everything’s in place, and I’ve got just enough time to get home, clean up, and pick up Sunny. She doesn’t know it yet, but I’ve planned something special tonight. We're getting out of this town, for the whole night. I'm taking her over to Riverside for dinner. I've got a hotel room, and flowers, and it's going to be perfect. Her birthday, her night. She has no clue.
The phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and look at the screen. Sunny .
I stare at her name for a second and I can't help but smile. I should answer, but I’m too wired, too amped up. I’m still riding the high from everything I've done tonight—from knowing Zack’s about to get what’s coming to him. I’ll call her back in a little while. Right now, I need a few minutes to myself to enjoy this. It feels good to let this side of myself out to play for a change.
I watch the phone buzz until it stops. One missed call . I slide it back into my pocket, shaking off the small pang of guilt that creeps in. It’s not like I’m ignoring her on purpose, and she didn't leave a message or anything. I need a minute to myself to cool down is all. This night’s about her, and I want to be all-in when I see her. No distractions.
The truck engine roars to life as I pull away from Zack’s neighborhood, and the adrenaline still pours through me. The streets are quiet, the world moving slower than my mind. Everything feels like it’s falling perfectly into place. Zack is going to wake up tomorrow with his life in ruins, and I’ll be with Sunny, showing her she’s the only thing that matters to me.
The phone buzzes again. Sunny. Again.
I glance at the screen, my hand hovering over it. My thumb twitches toward the button, and something shifts in the back of my mind. Maybe I should answer. No. I need to settle down. I'm still too caught up in the rush of what's coming. I'll call her back when I get home, once I've had a chance to cool off a bit. She deserves more from me. I don’t want her to hear the edge in my voice. I don’t want to drag any of this into our night.
The phone stops buzzing again, and I turn up the radio, drowning out the nagging feeling that's starting to creep in. I ignore the ping from my pocket that tells me I have a voicemail waiting. It’s nothing. I crank the radio, drowning out that small voice in the back of my head telling me I'm making a mistake. She's fine. She's fine. And soon, everything's going to be perfect.
I turn onto my street twenty minutes later, pulling into the driveway. The house is dark. Which is weird. The porch light's on a timer. Mom insisted on it. Said it made her feel safer. I kill the engine and grab my phone, finally feeling calm enough to call Sunny back, but something stops me. It’s too quiet. Too still.
Something's wrong.
The hair on the back of my neck prickles as I step out of the truck. My boots crunch on the gravel, but the sounds seems too loud, too sharp tonight. This all feels... wrong. By the time I reach the door, my heart is pounding and every muscle in my body is tense. I push open the door, and step inside. The darkness swallows me as I stand there, listening.
“Mom?”
Nothing. No noise but the hollow echo of my voice on the tile.
I step further inside, the door clicking shut behind me. My hand slides over the light switch, but when I flick it on, nothing happens. The power’s out. My stomach twists and a thin sheen of sweat coats my skin. I close my eyes and open them slowly allowing them to adjust to the darkness.
“Mom?”
I call out again, louder this time, but there's still no answer. Only a heavy, oppressive silence.
There's the smell of something familiar hanging in the air. Familiar but out of place. Metallic. Sharp. Wrong.
I take a step towards the hallway that leads to her room. Maybe she went to bed early. Maybe she's lying in bed, headphones on, listening to music, or reading. Maybe. My hands start to shake, and my pulse drums in my ears. Maybe, but not likely.
My foot slides through something slick, sticky, and wet sounding. When I look down the small amount of light coming in through the windows in the living room reveals dark streaks crossing the tile in the entry way. Realization slams into me.
No!
I move faster, my body on autopilot. I rush down the hall, the smell getting stronger the closer to my mom's room I get. It's cold, and coppery and out of place. It's overwhelming.
The door to her room is closed. And there are more red-tinged dark streaks—blood—smeared on the floor, splashed across the carpet and covering the doorknob.
No, no, no, no. My mind screams it over and over and a pit settles in my stomach.
I push the door open, cringing at the creak of the hinges. My feet move on their own, my mind racing to catch up even as it refuses to believe what I’m seeing.
My mom.
Lying in a pool of blood on soaked, stained sheets, motionless, her eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. My mind struggles to process what I'm looking at. It refuses to believe it's real. This. Is. Not. Possible.
I can’t breathe. My heart thunders in my ears. The bitter taste and burn of bile rises in my throat and coats my tongue.
My mind goes blank. I can’t think . Can't see past the blood—past the emptiness that wraps around me. My feet move forward even though I want them to stop .
When I get to the edge of the bed, I reach out, my hands shaking, my vision blurring. I have to check. I have to make sure.
A deep shudder runs through me as I place two fingers against the curve of her neck..
She's cold. So fucking cold.
I know it's too late. I'm too late. But it doesn't keep me from begging. From pleading and screaming into the silent room to feel just one tiny thump under my fingers.
But there's nothing. There's nothing there. Only more absence of.
Tears flood my vision, stinging my eyes and heating my skin as they track down my cheeks. My legs give out from under me and I collapse to my knees beside the bed. The weight of this moment settles on my shoulders, and crushes down on me. It's too much.
Everything else falls away. The only thing I register, the only thing I feel, are cold fingers of dread seeping into my bones.
My father.
Did he find us? Was this him? Did he finally get tired of waiting for us to come back? I've known since we left that he's had eyes on us. I knew he'd never let either of us walk away clean, but this…
Leaving her here like this, for me to find, doesn't seem like something he'd do. This seems too brutal, too vicious. Even for him.
I slide my eyes heavenward, forcing them to the ceiling as I work to pull more air into my lungs. I'm desperate for an answer. A reason. Anything. I run through a hundred scenarios, and then a hundred more. None of it makes sense. I take a deep breath and fumble for my phone trying to brace myself for the call I know I have to make and everything that comes next.
The noise and the cops and the questions and…
I just want a few more minutes. A few more minutes alone with her. A few more minutes to say goodbye. To start trying to imagine a world for myself that she isn't in. I take her hand in mine, squeeze it gently and offer a whispered apology.
It's not until I drag my eyes down from the spot where they've been fixed on the ceiling that I see it.
A message.
It’s scrawled on the wall above her bed. Jagged, uneven letters smeared in blood.
'Not yours. Mine'
The words blur together, twisting in my mind until I can’t see straight. My throat tightens, my chest heaves as realization sinks in.
It wasn't my father.
It wasn’t Zack. It was never Zack I had to worry about.
This was Garrett.
He's back.
I stare at the words staining the wall, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps as the reality of it slams into me. The calls I ignored from Sunny, the message I didn’t check—she needed me. And I ignored her.
My phone slips from my hand and hits the floor with a loud crack, that I barely hear. All I can hear is the roaring in my ears, the sound of my own heartbeat echoing in the silence.
My mom is dead.
Sunny's in trouble.
And it’s all because of me . I did this.