Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Something startled me awake. For a moment, I wasn’t sure what it could’ve been.
From the way I was dripping with sweat, I imagined it must’ve been a nightmare, which I was having far more frequently lately.
I liked the ones I couldn’t remember—where I was blissfully unaware of which horrid memory I’d resurfaced, or the stress-related situation my brain had conjured up for me.
When I could remember, I’d be trapped for the rest of the day, stuck in my body with an invisible cage locked around me, and I wouldn’t know how to get out.
The world would cave in, darkness would fall, and I would hear my own breathing, but nothing else would make sense. Nothing. Nothing looked normal or familiar when my arms were bound by an entity of my own creation, right inside my mind.
My phone kept ringing, scaring me again. I jolted, turning around in bed to reach for it on my nightstand. Something dropped to the floor, but I didn’t make any effort to look at what it was.
I almost couldn’t get any words out, holding the phone to my ear with panic still racing through me. “Hello?”
“Big brother,” Star slurred from the other side. There was music playing off in the distance from her, pounding through the speaker when she paused. “Big brother, can you—” she interrupted herself with a hiccup. “Come get me?”
From the first syllable she’d uttered, I’d shot up in bed immediately. I was already swinging my leg over the bed and looking for some clothes. “What’s wrong? Where are you?”
“So drunk. So, sooooo drunk, Moony Poony.” Oh, she was definitely drunk if she was calling me that. She’d only called me that from the ages of six to nine, and then all of a sudden, she was too old, and the nickname was too weird. It’d honestly kind of hurt when she stopped.
“Okay, try to keep on task here, Star. Where are you?”
“Mm, some house party. I don’t know. Like, only four minutes away from campus. You know? I don’t know. Maybe? God, I’m so tired.”
“Who did you go with?”
“Friends.”
I couldn’t find my wallet. I couldn’t find my goddamn wallet, and I was seriously getting worried with how slurred Star’s speech was. “Okay, cool. Where are they?”
“Gone. So tired. I take nap. This bed so comfy.” She sighed into the phone right before the sound of rustling sheets came through.
Dread sat heavy in my stomach, churning and churning until everything had curdled. I paused what I was doing. “Why are you in a bed? Whose bed is it?”
“This guy. I don’t know.”
A guy? And she doesn’t know? “Did he do anything to you, Star?”
She whined and sighed, probably rolling around on the bed. “It’s so comfy.”
“Share your location with me. Now. Did that guy do anything to you? Did he put something in your drink?”
“God, Moony Poony, you sure have a lot of”—another hiccup—“weird questions. Is fine. Everythin’ fine. Just so drunk.”
A text came through on my phone, showing me her location.
“Fuck, Star! That’s, like, twenty minutes away from me.
” And all I had was a single passenger bike.
What the fuck was I thinking? Actually, no, what was she thinking when she knew that was all I had?
“I’m gonna have to call Cres to come get you. ”
“No! No, no, no, I want Moony Poony.”
“I don’t have a car, Star. How do you want me to pick you up?”
“Mhm. Comfy.” She breathed into the phone, sending a wave of crackling air through the speakers.
And then nothing. That was all I got. I tried yelling into the phone to wake her up, but I heard soft snoring and music playing softly, and that was it, until I heard the squeak of a door opening and the music was suddenly much louder.
A new voice entered the equation with an amused laugh. “Holy shit, dude! Star is passed the fuck out!”
I was right at my front door, panicking as I heard more laughter. “Get the fuck away from my sister!” I yelled, though it’d do nothing if I wasn’t on speaker.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Okay, Moon, get your shit together.
I pulled my wallet—which I’d finally found—out of my pocket and grabbed Emerson’s card.
It was almost three in the morning, and ever since Crescent had started taking his meds, he’d been sleeping really heavy.
It was a gamble on whether he’d answer, and I wouldn’t be able to reach his house in time.
There was a chance, right? No way in hell was I calling our parents. They lived too far, anyway. Cops knew how to drive fast, right? But Star was still on the phone with me, and if I called Emerson, I’d have to hang up on the call with Star. What if something happened when I did that?
A specific song played in my mind. It wasn’t on purpose, and it wasn’t wholly welcome.
With it came the burning, awful taste of whiskey flowing down my throat, forcing a cough with enough force to knock my balance off.
I could still remember how my throat felt the next morning, and how awful my mouth tasted.
My breath alone had haunted me for years, like a demon in the distance, with no fear of vengeance.
Vengeance was all I’d ever wanted back then, though I’d accepted I would never get it. Not for me, anyway.
“Hello?” Emerson’s voice sounded close to how I imagined mine did when I’d answered Star.
“It’s Moon. I just texted you an address. How fast can you get there?”
Wind carried through from his side. “It’s not far from me. I’m on my way. What’s going on?”
He sounded far more alert now, and I could hear what sounded like keys jingling together.
“It’s my sister. She’s at some house party twenty minutes from me.
She sounds really fucked up, and now she’s passed out.
I heard some boys come into the room she passed out in, but I couldn’t get her to wake up. I’m really worried.”
“I got it. What’s her name? And do you have a picture you could send me, so I know who I’m looking for?”
“Her name is Star. Sending a picture and my address to you. Just bring her here safely, okay? I’m really worried someone might’ve spiked her drink or something.”
A door slammed, and the wind picked up even more. “Already at my car. I’ll call you.”
“Please do.”
“Hey, Moon?”
“Yeah?”
“Everything is going to be okay.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
Pacing around my living room was doing nothing for me, but I wasn’t about to stop myself.
It was all I could do not to freak the fuck out about how long it was taking them to get here.
Emerson had texted me he’d found her, and they were on their way a whole ten minutes ago.
He didn’t have to be such a snail about driving her back.
Just as I was about to call him and demand an ETA, there was a knock on the door. I didn’t wait a single second, swinging it open immediately. Star had her arm around Emerson’s neck, her head tilted downward as she mumbled incoherent, drunken thoughts.
I looked over her, taking stock of every piece of her clothing. There didn’t seem to be any rips or anything too out of place, aside from a few stains, which were probably from the alcohol she’d been drinking. “Come on, we can put her on the couch for now.”
Emerson nodded and started his way over. “She was pretty much dead weight the whole time. Going up the stairs took a while, but I promise I broke a lot of traffic laws to get here as soon as I could.”
The moment her back hit the couch, I was right beside her. “Star? Star, can you hear me?”
She mumbled and rolled her head to the side, waving a hand up in the air. I scrubbed a hand over my face, sighing. “Thank you for getting her. All I have is my bike, and there was no way I could get to her in time. I don’t think I’ll be getting any answers from her tonight, at the very least.”
“Did she not go with any friends?”
“She said she did, but I guess they ditched her or got lost.”
Emerson huffed. “Some friends they are.”
I walked to the kitchen, grabbing the trash can. “Tell me about it. If she’s fine when she wakes up, and nothing happened, we’re going to have a very serious conversation. A serious conversation about responsible drinking and better buddies to go out with. And safety. Lots of safety.”
Star looked absolutely peaceful where she lay.
Her hair had fallen over her face, cresting just over her eyes and nose, her mouth scrunched up a bit while she slept.
I dusted my thumb over one of her rosy cheeks, trying to calm the insistent thump in my ribcage.
I had a hundred thousand questions I wanted to ask her, but I’d have to wait until she woke up to get the answers to them.
Taking a seat by her legs on the couch, I looked toward Emerson. “Were there people in the room when you got there?”
“No, there weren’t. Nobody was even at the door.” He was sitting in the chair beside us, his hands clasped in front of him.
Emerson wore a plain T-shirt and what looked like basketball shorts.
I could see a peek of a tattoo just on the side of his calf, black ink wrapping around it.
His calves were nice. All muscled and toned and just plain nice.
I hadn’t seen him out of his uniform before without all of his gear.
It was different, to say the least. Of all things, he had to be incredibly fucking built.
Muscles strained the sleeves of his shirt, and I couldn’t see any more tattoos on him. “Did you get any weird looks?”
When he laughed, his dimples and bright, imperfect smile stole the show. “Plenty. I don’t think people expect to see a forty-three-year-old man waltzing into a college house party at three in the morning.”
“Thank god you didn’t wear your uniform, or it would’ve been pure chaos.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t have. The moment I heard your voice, I jumped up and got dressed. I’m really glad you called me.”
Now it was just weird. That feeling came back—like the walls were closing in on me. Walls that were inside of me, as if all of my bones and organs were falling into each other to crush me from the inside out.
The idea that I’d called him all freaked out like that made me uncomfortable.
I didn’t like people seeing me like that.
Any kind of people, but especially strangers, even if they’d seen me at my worst already.
“Well, thanks for answering. I can handle it from here if you want to go home. I’m sure you’re exhausted. ”
“Eh, I’m already up, and I’m off tomorrow, anyway. Besides, I have a lot of experience in taking care of very drunk people. I don’t mind sticking around if you don’t mind me being here.”
And risk him seeing further into my tattered soul? I didn’t like the thought, even if the company sounded nice. “I mean, I’ll be fine either way.”
“Like I said, I don’t mind. You, on the other hand, look exhausted. If you wanted to go to bed, I could take care of her here.”
“I’m not tired.”
“You say that, but the bags under your eyes say different. And your shirt is on backward. So, I think it’s safe to say you’re at least a bit worn out, or will be when you come down from the anxiety.”
I looked down, realizing the tag was indeed in front of me instead of behind.
I also realized that I wasn’t wearing a turtleneck.
I was wearing the exact opposite, actually.
All I had on was a ratty tank top I’d found during my moment of desperation and panic, meaning Emerson could definitely see the scars on the side of my neck if I’d turned my head.
There was a thin line between being exposed and exposing myself.
I didn’t want to remind myself of that night any more than I had to, and I definitely didn’t want other people to see what mark had been placed upon me for my misdeeds.
Could he see the permanent purple handprints wrapped around my throat, with each curve and groove of Jude’s prints etched into my skin?
I did. Every time I looked in the mirror, I saw it.
The darkness in my eyes and soul. The scrapes and digs of skin Jude left, whereas Sarah never got the chance to leave her mark on my physical body. No, she never scarred my skin, but she’d scarred my soul right along with Jude. Two souls taken by my hands.
Two evil, awful souls who deserved it. Right?
They deserved it, and I was willing to do it again, though I couldn’t stop fucking thinking about it.
How Jude’s eyes didn’t immediately become void of life, but rather slowly disappeared from his pupils.
I hated it. Despised it. Fucking loathed that I carried the evil in their hearts right along with the matching evil in mine.
Never taking my eyes off the floor, I nodded slowly. “You know what? Yeah, I think I’ll go to bed. Thanks. Remote is on the coffee table; help yourself to anything in the kitchen.”
Emerson, the man he seemed to be, simply took my place on the couch right by Star. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. I didn’t turn my head or even try to claw my way out of the cage of bones my skeleton was trying to use to keep me hostage.
I simply walked back into my room, lay back in my bed, and tried to pretend like everything was fine.
Nothing else in the world existed. My past wasn’t my past. My sister wasn’t in my living room, passed out drunk.
I hadn’t killed two people, and I didn’t just agree to let some stranger stay in my house tonight.
God, what I wouldn’t do to feel better, yet at the same time, I felt like my wallowing was deserved.
Maybe it was a punishment from the universe for overstepping the human ethical bounds.
Or maybe I was always meant for a life of being locked away in a cell of my own making.