20. Elijah
Chapter 20
Elijah
W e pull into the college parking lot, and I grip the steering wheel, the drive already feeling longer than it needed to be. Crew’s withdrawal symptoms are obvious. His usual energy drained, his eyes unfocused. He denies it, of course, like he always does when we confront him, but the signs are too obvious to ignore.
Roman’s been barking orders down the phone the entire ride, directing his men to wrap up the final shipment for Pacheco until his next one in three months.
The place feels too quiet, unnervingly still, the kind of silence that settles deep into your bones. I notice it as soon as I turn off the ignition; the engine hums, dying away, leaving only silence.
The sun hangs high, casting sharp shadows on the pavement. A subtle, cool breeze drifts through the air, but it does nothing to ease the discomfort, twisting my insides from being away from my love.
“Come on,” Roman barks after we’ve lingered in the car too long, and we all jump out, following his orders.
The campus seems to sprawl out in front of us. Students are talking, laughing, and rushing to their next classes as if the world is moving forward just fine, without a care in the world. We’re nothing more than shadows now—out of place, unnoticed—just the way I like it because none of them are her.
I shake my head at that thought. She’s gone, and there’s nothing I can do about it, even when I desperately wish I could rewrite it all.
Roman’s next to me, tapping away on his phone while he leads the way. Crew, as always, trails a few steps behind us—detached—his hoodie pulled low over his eyes like his mind is miles away from wherever we are, hiding from something none of us dare to talk about.
I can’t blame him. Hell, sometimes I feel like I want to hide, too.
I don’t know why, but today feels different. Maybe it’s the nagging thought in the back of my head that I’ve left her behind, or Pacheco’s shipment might not go easy with us not being there.
“We move quick, got it?” I mutter, glancing at the others. “I want to get back to our new room.”
I never thought that I’d be in college after everything or staying in the dorms, but Roman’s dad thought it would be the easiest way for us to get access to the other students and ‘make connections.’ We’ve got a few places to check for potential buyers—quick stops, in and out, no drama.
Roman’s eyes meet mine, his expression unreadable, but his lips press into a tight line. “Got it.”
Crew doesn’t say anything, and I know he won’t until the tremble in his hands subsides. His addiction is a constant weight we’re now used to. We’ve dealt with his withdrawals for what feels like the hundredth time while we work our asses off for Roman’s dad, all while we work behind the scenes to separate ourselves from him, yet today, there’s an edge to my thoughts that I can’t shake.
Whatever it is, I feel it gnawing at me, digging under my skin, making every sound a little too loud, every shadow a little too dark.
We head toward the main quad, where the group of students seems to thicken. A small crowd is gathered ahead, their attention fixed on something in the center. Phones are out, cameras pointed at whatever is drawing their attention, and I can’t help the uneasy feeling that spreads through me as I pick up the pace.
“Let’s check it out,” I say, keeping my voice low.
Roman’s eyebrows knit together. “Let’s keep moving.” He responds, his voice has a tight edge, the kind he gets when he knows we shouldn’t be involved.
Crew walks past us towards the crowd, and we follow after him. We push our way through, just enough to see what’s going on as the murmurs grow louder.
And I freeze in my tracks, my heart lurching in my chest like I’ve been sucker-punched.
Scarlett .
She’s standing there, alive, breathing, with a smile that lights up her entire face. A smile none of us have seen since she stopped speaking. The crowd surrounding them records her every move, and just like that, the world I’ve known for two years falls away.
Scarlett. Alive.
I can’t breathe. I can’t think.
All I can do is stare… at her.
Her once blonde hair is now brown, but she looks healthier from here… It’s the smile on her face, the way she looks so damn happy, that gets to me the most.
My chest tightens; the familiar anger I’ve felt since we lost her bubbles up in my throat because she’s supposed to be dead.
She was dead —or at least that’s what everyone was told.
Except now, here she is, alive and well, standing in front of a Marine. He’s wearing the uniform like it’s his second skin, and he holds her like he’s been waiting forever to hold her.
She jumps into his arms, laughing, her face lighting up with joy, and she whispers in his ear.
I feel a wave of nausea hit me. The noise around me fades, and all I can hear is the rush of blood in my ears, the pulse of my heart in my throat.
Thud .
The same heart that stopped beating when she died.
Thud.
The heart that only ever beat for her.
Thud.
The one that feels like it’s now going to beat out of my chest at the sight of her… alive.
Her dad . Bile rises in my throat.
“Is that her?” Roman mutters under his breath.
Crew’s breath hitches as he stumbles away from us and throws up in the nearest bush. “She’s dead.” He rasps, “We grieved her.”
“ You grieved her. She was no one and is still no one.” Roman barks.
I take a step back, trying to swallow down the disbelief that’s choking me.
I can’t breathe.
“She might be no one to you…” I snap, my voice tight with a mix of anger and confusion. “But you know we weren’t the same after she died.”
“She didn’t die, though, did she? She’s stood right there, smiling and laughing like nothing ever happened,” Roman tries to reason, but I’m done listening.
I try to stop myself from looking, but my eyes are drawn back to her—alive and standing in the arms of that Marine.
The crowds dispersed now; only her, the Marine, another guy, and a girl are standing there. The Marine doesn’t move away from her even after he’s set her on the ground, and her arm reaches up, cupping his cheek.
I feel like the ground beneath me shifts.
My stomach churns with something like jealousy, something darker, and I want to hurt her for ever making me feel like this. The marine pulls back, smiling and laughing at something, and I can see from here that he stares at her as if she’s his entire world.
I don’t care about any of that. All I care about is how Scarlett looks at him—like nothing in the world has mattered more, as if he’s her hero.
And I can’t stand it.
Then she moves, making her way towards where we are.
She freezes. Her eyes are wide as she stares at us.
Crew makes a choking noise, and I force myself to look away from her, my eyes sliding over to him. He’s frozen, his eyes wide. Not a word is said as his stare flickers from Scarlett to the Marine. The look on his face is dark and unreadable.
We all know his addiction began when she passed. It was like the world shattered around him. Losing her, along with the belief that it was us who pushed her to jump into the water… was his tipping point. It broke him, and from that point, he spiraled. Giving in to his demons, succumbing to the drugs.
“I can’t do this,” I mutter to myself under my breath, turning on my heel.
I don’t care if I can feel Roman’s eyes locked onto my back. I don’t care if Crew’s unraveling right before us. I need to get the hell out of here.
I hear Roman call after me, but I don’t slow down. I push forward, my shoes slapping against the pavement, desperately trying to drown out everything. My mind is a tornado of thoughts, and I feel like I’m losing it.
How? How is any of this possible?
How is she alive?
The ocean took her from us, and I was left with fragments of memories of her. The only thing they found was her backpack, stuffed with ten thousand dollars—enough for a fresh start—a few pieces of clothes, and her shoes.
Her shoes…
I push through the building’s door, only half aware of where my feet are taking me, but my legs are moving faster than my mind can keep up.
I want to scream. I need to.
But I can’t.
I can’t let it out. I’ve been hollow since the day we found out she was gone, and I was barely a man then. I was a shell of one, and the only times I ever felt whole again were when I was ever in her presence—taking pieces of her, clutching them in the desperate hopes of feeling whole.
I round the corner and step into a quiet hallway. The silence feels like a relief. I lean against the wall, breathing heavily, my hands shaking as I press them into the cool surface.
What do I do with the fact that Scarlett is standing there, alive after all this time?
I should be happy that she’s alive, but I can feel the familiar rage building up. The urge to find her and take those pieces I sought desperately before, and fix myself.
I want to break her to make myself whole. It would be fair. She broke me… us… when she died, and I never saw an end to the grief… the darkness that threatened to pull me under as I felt myself slowly succumbing to the shadows.
I wanted to join her, and that tells me that Scarlett Reyes has a power over me that no one should ever have.
I want her to feel the pain I felt for the past two years, the pain I’ve felt every day since I thought she was gone.
I want her to hurt. To pay.