Chapter 25
AMELIA
“Alright, Amelia. That’s it for today!” Coach Dawn’s voice echoes from the empty stands. Classes started back up today. After I missed the last two practices before the break—because of Blade, of course—we decided on a one-on-one session to make up for the lost time.
I wave goodbye and trudge back to the locker room. The air is a cocktail of perfume and sweat, all layered over the distinctive smell of cleaning supplies from the janitor. I grab my towel and bring it to my face, trying to block out the overwhelming smell as I head to my locker.
It doesn’t take long to change into a pleated white skirt and pink sweatshirt. I can’t wait to get back to Frankie’s dorm, we have a whole at-home spa evening planned. Just like Skye and I used to do…
Her roommate dropped out so we hang out there when we want girl time, without being distracted by the boys.
But my heart sinks when I turn and see Catalina sitting at the other end of the bench.
What is she doing here? Practice isn’t even scheduled today. I don’t have time for her bullshit right now. Or ever, really.
She starts walking towards me, and I brace myself, in case she tries to pounce on me again. “Look, I don’t—” My words catch in my throat as I take a good look at her. She looks a mess, when she usually looks like she just stepped off a runway. Her makeup is smudged, tears streaming down her face. I know she hasn’t been the nicest to me, but my heart still aches to see her in this vulnerable state. “What’s wrong?”
“Amelia, I… I need to talk to you,” she stammers, her voice trembling.
Is this some kind of trick?
I eye her warily, unsure of what to make of this sudden change. “About what?” I ask, keeping my guard up. She did torment me for over a month so I need to be cautious.
But instead of her usual cattiness, she drops to her knees, letting out sobs that echo off the tile floor. I watch in disbelief, my eyes wide, as she struggles to form coherent words.
“I’m sorry,” she chokes out. “I’m so sorry for everything I’ve done to you.”
I freeze, stunned into silence. I want to console her, but how? She’s reduced to a sobbing mess on the floor before me.
Finally, she manages to stand, her cheeks flushed with hot tears. “I mean it, Amelia. I’ll do anything. Anything . Just please… don’t make him do that to me again.”
“Don’t make who do what? You’re not making any sense right now.”
“Rhys… He forced me… in the music room. I didn’t want it. He forced himself on me. Blade made him hurt me because of everything I’ve done to you. Please, I’m sorry. I’ll never pick on you again. Don’t make him do that again.”
What?
The revelation rocks me to my core, shattering any illusions I’d started to have about my relationship with Blade. I was beginning to think maybe, just maybe, this thing between us could work, in some crazy, twisted way. But not if he made Rhys… I can’t even bring myself to say the word. The thought alone makes me want to throw up.
“Have you talked to anyone about this? A counselor? A psychologist, maybe?”
“No! He said if I told any authority, he’d come back and do it again.”
That’s just sick.
I reach out and gently touch her arm, the only way I know how to offer any comfort. “I’ll make sure he never hurts you again, I promise. You don’t have to worry about him coming back. Go talk to whoever you think can help you through this. You look…” I trail off.
Broken.
No wonder I haven’t seen much of her these past two months.
She pulls me into a hug, whispering a quiet “thank you” before leaving. And for the first time, I see her as a human—struggling and going through life, just like the rest of us. I see her as Catalina, and not just my bully.
With trembling hands, I take out my phone and dial Blade’s number. As it rings, I almost hope he doesn’t answer. What do I even say to him about something like this?
I feel disgusted. Shocked. Guilty .
“Hey, pretty girl.” His carefree voice feels like a slap, knowing there’s a girl who has her whole life flipped upside down because of him.
“H-how could you?” My voice wavers.
“How could I think you’re the most beautiful girl in the world? Hm, well let’s see…”
“This isn’t any time to be joking!” I snap. “You… you told Rhys to force himself on Catalina?!”
“Forc—Wait, what did he do?”
“Took. Her. Against. Her. Will. Do I need to spell it out for you?!”
“I didn’t tell him to do that. I told him to scare her a little so she’d leave you alone, maybe slap her around, that’s all. He… What the fuck, dude?!”
There’s a sudden smack, followed by a silence that stretches on the line, then the sound of fumbling. And grunts.
“What’s happening?” I ask.
No response. The sounds grow louder—punches landing, more grunts, a heavy thud—the unmistakable noise of a fight.
“Hello? Hello?”
With the muffled sounds of chaos intensifying, I sigh and hang up, deciding to follow up with a text instead.
Me: I am so SO mad at you! How could you let that happen? I don’t want to be anywhere near him—not in the same house, not in the same car, not even in the same college! I mean it. Sick!
Before I can even really process everything, my phone beeps with a new message.
Oh. My. God.
Skye: Hey girlie. I’m back in town. Meet me to catch up? I’m sorry about everything that went down.
My fingers move at lightning speed to respond.
Me: Skye! Oh my God. Yes! Just tell me where and I’ll be on my way
Skye: Here’s the address. Just swing by and we can catch up for maybe 20 minutes
“What’s going on?”
Jesus! I jump at the sudden voice and look up to see Rhett standing there. He nearly gave me a heart attack. I don’t know why I’m still surprised sometimes when he shows up—he’s always lurking nearby. “I saw Catalina leaving here crying. Are you okay? Did she do anything to you?”
“Um, no. But I’m glad you’re here because I need just one thing.”
“Okay?”
“If he asks, just tell him I’m still at practice. I’ll be gone for thirty minutes, tops.”
Rhett shakes his head immediately. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Ow! Rhett, why did you hit me? We were just having a small argument!”
“What?!”
I cup the side of my face, pretending to wince, and lock eyes with him, a calculating smile playing on my lips. “It hurts! Ow!” I say, my voice dripping with exaggerated agony. “We wouldn’t want me to tell anyone you just hit me.” It takes him a few seconds to catch on to who anyone is.
He crosses his arms over his chest, and I notice a muscle in his jaw twitching. “Fine,” he concedes, his tone clipped. “If you’re not back in forty minutes, I’m coming to get you myself.”
“Thanks!” I call over my shoulder, already hauling it out of the locker room. My heart races with excitement at the thought of finally seeing Skye again. And making up for real this time.
···
I arrive at a rundown motel, its lobby walls stained yellow, with a flickering neon sign that’s missing a few letters. Navigating the dimly lit, musty-smelling hallways, I finally reach room 2B and knock.
The door swings open, and Skye stands there in a mismatched sweatsuit. I’ve never seen her like this, looking so... unkempt. Wild hair, stained clothes, and the bags under her eyes say she hasn’t gotten a good night’s sleep in a while. Even when she got food poisoning from a bad batch of shrimp she never looked this sick.
What happened over the past few months?
“Amelia..” she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper.
I step into the room. The air isn’t on, but I still feel a chill run down my spine. “Tell me everything that happened, Skye. Don’t leave anything out.”
We sink onto the bed together, the mattress creaking under our combined weight. This really is a shitty motel. As she settles into the worn, rough sheets, her shoulders slump, and she lets out a heavy sigh.
“I couldn’t stay. Not with everything that was going on,” she admits.
“But why didn’t you tell me that before you left? You were here one day and gone the next, and that text you sent... Every time I reached out and got no answer, it felt like another knife twisting into my gut. I lost my best friend.” My voice cracks at the end, but I can’t help it. I know we’d only known each other for half a year, and had some rocky moments, but I thought the connection we shared meant something.
“I needed to figure things out on my own.”
“We were supposed to be best friends, like sisters. Why couldn’t you come to me? Best friends figure things out together.”
She looks away. “I know, Amelia. It’s just—” She gulps, pausing. “—my dad was really, really sick, and talking about it with you would’ve made it real. I was in denial for a while.”
“Is he…” I trail off, asking the question no daughter should ever have to answer.
She gives a slight nod, and tears immediately well up in her eyes, threatening to spill over. Guilt floods me as I realize how selfish I’ve been, while my friend was dealing with the death of a parent.
“I’m so sorry.” I pull her into a tight hug, hoping it communicates everything I can’t. I’ve never been good at helping others through grief—or any emotions, really.
I know what grief feels like. I remember how nothing anyone said made me feel better when my mother passed, and some days, I just needed a hug. So sometimes, it’s better not to speak, just to listen and be there.
“You’re such a good friend,” she chokes out.
“Always for you, Skye. I’m always here.”
“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” Her cries grow louder, echoing off the walls and drowning out the faint TV in the background.
“Don’t. You don’t have to apologize for taking the time you needed to deal with your father,” I say, attempting to console her.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
She reaches towards me, and for a moment, I brace for another hug. Instead, a sharp sting pierces my neck, sending a jolt of terror through me, like lightning striking at the core of my being. It follows with a cold numbness that spreads rapidly through my body.
She... she stabbed me.
“Why?” The word barely escapes my lips, a fragile whisper. Darkness creeps in, blurring the edges of my vision. I try to focus on her face, searching her eyes for answers, but there’s two of her now and I can barely see.
I slump back onto the bed.
Betrayal floods my senses—it’s all I can think about. It hurts worse than the pain in my neck. Did I ever matter to her at all?
“I’m sorry,” she repeats, trembling through her sobs.
Sorry?
Sorry?
The world tilts sideways, slipping away from me like sand from my fingers. I want to fight it, to hold on, but the darkness pulls me under.
I can’t help but think about… him.
Will I ever see him again?
With a final breath, before I pass out, I ask one last time, “Why?”