Chapter Forty-Four
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
GEMMA
A strangled breath leaves me as I stand at Bonnie’s door, hand poised and ready to knock. I have everything I want to say to her memorized, all the apologies, the truth, the stupid excuses I’ve told myself over the years…
I’m not prepared for her to never speak to me again. And I know it’s going to happen. I know she’s going to hate me. I’m going to lose her the moment the truth leaves my lips.
This is going to kill me.
It might literally kill me.
Knock on her door.
Knock.
I can’t bring myself to do it.
I want to vomit as I stand there—no, not want to.
I’m definitely going to.
My hands brace on my knees before I get a chance to think. I close my eyes and shudder, cold chills pricking the back of my neck.
She’s never going to speak to me again.
I’m going to lose her.
I’m going to lose her.
I squat and thread my hands behind my neck, pushing my hood up in case someone comes around the corner.
I don’t have a pep talk. There’s no good reason for me to knock on this door. There’s no positive hope pushing me to see her again, no silver lining, not even a shred of a shadow able to dim this blinding light.
All there is, is loss on the other side.
I don’t even think Death will want me after this.
I’m forcing my legs to straighten when the door down the hall opens. I quickly set the fast food bag in my hand on the ground and get my phone out to take a photo of it, pretending that I’m just a delivery person bringing her lunch.
“Hey, I’ll take whatever she doesn’t eat,” the guy says.
I nod and say, “Yep,” without moving my head in his direction.
I don’t have time or energy to look their way, nor do I have any desire to enter into a conversation with neighbors who might be chatty.
The second one bumps into me when they pass. It almost makes me shift forward, balance skewing. If I wasn’t trying to be discreet, I would say something to him—
Wait, why does his voice sound familiar?
My entire body stills. I angle my head in their direction, straining to block out any outside noise to hear their voices, ears perked as they continue down the hall. They’re still chatting. Even so, I can’t hear them as well as I want.
How do I know his voice?
I tuck my phone in my pocket, pull up my pink and black skull gaiter mask over my nose, and step back from Bonnie’s door.
And for whatever reason, my stomach is in knots.
A memory pricks the back of my mind. It’s an itch behind my ear. That voice… the tone… I know I’ve heard it. Something doesn’t feel right. I might be completely out of my mind. It’s more than likely nothing.
Still…
I follow them all the way to the elevator, trying to make out if the backs of their heads look familiar at all. They pause at the doors, and I do the same, pretending as if I’m heading down so I can deliver another order.
They’re talking about a hockey game, I think. The one on the left’s voice… The taller one with the hat…
Where, where, where do I know his voice from?
The lift bell dings as the doors open. They head inside first, and when the one with the hat turns around, blood stops flowing through my veins.
Are you fucking kidding me?
Shit.
It’s Trevor—Rad’s friend.
Move your feet.
MOVE YOUR FEET.
You cannot stand there. You cannot back out now.
I step onto the lift and keep my head down, heart jumping into my throat.
“Lobby?” the other one asks.
“Yeah,” I mutter, attempting to throw my voice.
Shit.
Shit. Shit. Shit .
He’s here. He’s within spitting distance.
I don’t know the other one. I didn’t get a great look at his face. He could be from the photo I found at Jeff’s, except I’m not sure.
My teeth begin chattering. I’m desperately inhaling short, jagged breaths. My eyes flutter as I stare at the doors and beg them to open quicker. I need to get off this lift. I need to get back to—
Bonnie .
Oh my god, Bonnie .
She’s been living… this entire time…
The locks. The bent door.
I missed it.
I missed—
Breathe.
Stop moving your foot.
Get out of your sad fucking head and get back to her.
Get OUT.
The elevator doors opening can’t come fast enough. I bolt through the moment they split and make for the front door, not daring to look back.
Keep your cool.
Don’t look suspicious.
If he figures out it’s you, you’re done. You have to get back to Bonnie.
He’s not going to let you walk away, especially after you just killed his friend.
I make a right out of the building and speed walk down the sidewalk to the parking garage. I don’t look back to see if they’re following, if they realize it was me, or if they’re even heading back upstairs.
Shit, what if they go back upstairs?!
I’m trying not to look like I’m sprinting as I bolt through the doors and get back on the elevator.
Come on, come on.
There’s no one in her hall when I arrive. I pull my hood down, take my mask off, and grab the bag I’d set in front of her door before knocking on it much more heavily than I mean to.
He’s here.
He’s here .
“Bon, it’s me,” I say as my heart begins to pound. “Bon? Are you—”
I hear her footsteps coming to the door. The quiet pads of her feet make my heart slow a little. She’s safe. She’s okay.
And when she opens the door, I sigh.
I can’t even enjoy how pretty she is in her cropped pink t-shirt or how her face softened into a smile when she saw me.
“Fucking finally,” she says. “I need to talk to you.”
Dammit, she’s smiling…
After everything she’s been through the last few days, she’s smiling…
Maybe I should have let him take me out in the elevator.
“I…” My mind blanks for a beat. I debate lying, debate throwing her over my shoulder and telling her some far-fetched falsehood just to get her to go along without arguing.
However, I’ve lied to her enough.
“I need you to pack a bag,” I say, pushing inside. “Lock the door,” I add when she closes it behind me.
I scan the room, peer behind the curtains, open her closets—
My heart is racing. He was here the whole time. He was here. How did we miss that?
Fuck, what if Lance had lived here, too?!
“What, are we running away together?” she asks, and while I know she meant it as a joke, there’s an edge to her voice that wasn’t there seconds before.
I storm into her bedroom and pull out her carry-on suitcase from the closet.
“Gem, what’s going on?” she asks from the bedroom door.
I finally look at her, and I gulp when I do. There’s a lingering fraction of fear in her eyes that makes my jaw tighten. She’s trying to keep it together, to act like my actions aren’t scaring her in the slightest.
“I need you to pack a bag, Bonnie,” I deliberately say, attempting to keep my voice even. “ Now .”
She stares at me for a few more seconds, her eyes darkening as if she can hear the fright in my tone.
“Okay,” she manages, and my entire body aches at the whispered way she says it.
I straighten and thread my hands behind my head as she begins taking clothes out of her dresser.
They’re here.
They were always here.
Trevor could come back at any moment.
If he recognized me…
I have to get her out.
Every thought has me struggling more and more to keep my shit together. If something happens to her…
“Why am I doing this?” she asks.
She has to be safe.
I can’t fail her again.
“Gemma, tell me what’s going on,” she goes on.
I can’t let this happen again.
I can’t let them touch her again—
Bonnie’s hands find my face. I pivot into her, my racing heart slowing. The sight of her dark blue eyes stills me. The sincerity there. The quiet plea to understand what’s happening, why I’m freaking the hell out.
“Gemma, talk to me. You’re scaring me,” she says softly.
I exhale a shaky breath, my jaw trembling. “I saw him,” I manage. “I saw one of your… in the hallway just now. They’re here. ”
Color drains from her face. “Who?” she asks, though I think she already knows.
“The guys who assaulted you,” I answer. “One of them, at least. Trevor. He’s here, and we have to go .”
Bonnie’s eyes widen. She drops her hands from my face and takes a blind step away from me. The backs of her knees hit the bed. Shock ripples over her features. I can see her chest beginning to heave, a glassiness rising in her eyes…
“Bonnie, pack ,” I tell her.
She nearly falls over the end of the bed lunging for her bedside table.
I close my eyes and start pacing again, trying to come up with the best plan.
We have to get out of here. I need my other helmet from the apartment so we can take my bike. Can we go to the studio? No. Maybe her dad’s? Completely disappear for a few…
My apartment.
Dammit.
We have to get a helmet from my apartment.
If she sees my apartment, she’s going to know.
She’s going to realize—
Except something worse hits me right then.
I freeze. Dread cracks over my skull and spills over every sad inch of my worthless figure.
I’m. So. Stupid .
The sentence I just answered her with begins to runs through my mind over and over.
The guys who assaulted you…
What.
The.
Fuck.
Did.
I.
Just.
Say.
To.
Her?!
“How do you know it’s him?” she asks.
Her back is still turned to me as my heart begins to pound against my eardrums. I clear my throat. Maybe she didn’t catch it. Maybe she didn’t hear me say that her assailant is living in the same building—that I know what he looks like when she doesn’t even remember.
Speak.
She asked you a question.
“I…”
Say something .
Anything .
But I can’t think.
Lie, and she’ll know. Tell the truth…
Oh my god, what did I just do?!
I’m so fucking stupid.
This is the worst way his could have come out, the worst way to tell her—
“Gemma?”
“Yeah,” I breathe, hands on my hips.
I’m staring at her wide-eyed, fingers digging into my waist, waiting for her to turn around. Waiting for her to face me with the truth on her face.
“I asked how you know it’s him,” she repeats, and there’s an edge to her voice this time.
Fuck …
“I just…”
“How?” she repeats.
“Bon— Bonnie . Shit—”
Her name is a worthless plea as my hands fly up defensively by my head. I take a step back, my heart dropping into my feet when she turns.
Motherfucker .
Bonnie’s facing me.
And she’s pointing her Glock at my face.
Rage and pain spread over her features. Her hands are quaking, her jaw visibly chattering, emotion dragging the corners of her lips down and down. She’s barely breathing as her cheeks grow redder, her eyes glassing over.
“How… do you know… it was him? ”
The last word is laced with betrayal, and the way she’s looking at me…
What have I done?
I swallow hard. “Bonnie, please. Listen to me—”
“ Listen to you? Why? Tell me how you know it was him,” she repeats, voice rising. “How did you know? How did you know? ”
She’s breaking, the desperate words cracking one syllable at a time.
I wish she’d scream. I wish she’d throw things at me.
Anything but cry.
“Bonnie—”
“Don’t lie to me,” she spits through clenched teeth, jerking the gun toward me again. “Don’t.”
“I wasn’t going to lie,” I say quickly.
“You were,” she breathes, her voice full of fear. “You were because you’ve been lying… Because the only person—” She sniffs back her tears, voice on the edge of dropping off entirely. “The only person who saw the men who attacked me that night was my stalker .”