Chapter 15
SAGE
Sitting at the table with my grandmother, I inhale the authentic southern food she’s made for dinner like it’s my last meal. I guess the rumors are true: there’s no better home-cooked meal than your grandma’s.
I’m going to explode soon with how well she feeds me, and I’m definitely feeling more at home since I’ve taken such a liking to cornbread and fried chicken.
“How have you been liking Blackmore University, Sage?” my grandmother asks as I down my glass of sweet tea.
I lick my lips once I’ve put the empty glass down. “It’s been fine.”
“Fine?” she questions, grabbing her own glass.
“Most of the other students just ignore me, probably because I’m the new girl.” I wipe my hands on a napkin before throwing it on top of my empty plate.
She swallows some sweet tea. “Blackmore has always been skeptical of outsiders comin’ in. Very tight-knit community we have here, but we take care of our own, and you’re one of us, Sage.”
I watch her as she stands and walks to the counter to grab the peach cobbler she made for dessert, wondering how to approach the subject of my parents without being snippy.
I can’t help the gnawing inside of me whenever I think of them living here—they seemed so…
LA. Nothing like the country parents in Blackmore.
“If it’s so tight knit, why did my parents leave?”
She slices a piece of cobbler, plopping it down onto a plate before she steps back to the table and puts it down before me. “Your mama always wanted bigger things in life, things she couldn’t find here in Blackmore.”
“Gran, why wouldn’t they tell me about this place?” I pick up my fork and start picking at the slice of cobbler.
“Listen, baby, whatever reasons your mama and daddy had for not tellin’ ya about Blackmore died with ’em. I can’t give you answers I don’t have.”
“I know, Gran, but—”
“Oh!” she cuts me off as she sits down in her chair. “Your uncle called to check on ya. I told him you’d give him a ring later tonight.”
I huff a laugh, putting my fork down on the edge of the plate, even though I haven’t even taken a bite. “No thanks.”
Gran clicks her tongue. “Now, honey—”
I cut her off this time. “No, Gran. After what he did? Unenrolling me from UCLA and ignoring me before I left California? No, he’s dead to me.”
She sighs, pulling my plate toward her to take a bite.
I can feel myself getting angry at my aunt and uncle all over again at the mention, my mind telling me that it’s all their fault that I’m in this situation.
If they’d just ignored the bullshit will that my parents left, I’d still be in California.
I would’ve never found out about this town or the fact my parents lied to me for my entire life.
Not to mention, I wouldn’t be in this weird four-way with the Hallows Dickheads.
My chest starts to swell, almost like I’m suffocating as anxiety seeps into my veins. I clear my throat, trying to get the feeling of claustrophobia to dissipate.
Although my grandmother has never given me a reason to doubt her, I feel like she isn’t telling me something. I feel like she knows more than she’s letting on, and the fact she’s my last living relative besides my shitty uncle makes me want to sob uncontrollably when I think of her lying to me.
My heart beats heavily with guilt as I realize I’m putting blame on my sweet grandmother.
She’s been nothing but kind and welcoming since I got here, and I shouldn’t hold such a distrust toward her, no matter how fucked up my headspace is.
My throat starts to constrict like I’m going to cry, so I push my chair back and stand up.
“Gran, I think I’m going to take a walk, clear my head a little.”
I rush from the room before I can hear her response, desperate to breathe the fresh, cool air. Bursting through the front door, I let it slam behind me as I bend down, put my hands on my knees, and gulp down oxygen.
The sun has just set, making the sky a mix of dark purples and blues through the clouds. Shadows loom over every inch of Blackmore, giving everything a spooky vibe that makes my skin pebble.
I decide to walk anyway, since I’m too embarrassed to go back and face my grandma right now.
Patting my pockets, I find that I’ve left my phone on the table.
Fuck it, who am I going to call? The friends who have stopped speaking to me in California, or my one and only friend in Blackmore, who I’ve been keeping secrets from since I got here?
No one would be able to understand the weight that’s sitting on my chest. Who’s going to be able to console me during a breakdown?
My mom and dad, that’s who.
“But they’re fucking dead!” I yell up at the sky, tears finally sliding down my cheeks.
I lose track of how long I walk along the side of the road, my mind consumed with memories of my parents and days in California. When my tears have finally dried, I shake out my shoulders and wipe my cheeks.
While I’m rubbing my eyes, I trip over something and fall onto the ground, my palms touching grass when I reach out. I look up, finding myself at the cemetery’s edge.
Of course.
Did my subconscious lead me here? To the only place I’ve felt good since landing in Blackmore two weeks ago?
I sigh, standing up and brushing my hands down my knees. Might as well wander around the graveyard to distract myself from my other problems.
Heading along the path, I admire the different headstones from a distance.
Some of them have flowers, stuffed animals, gifts, even some clothing lies underneath a few.
One in particular catches my eye; it’s covered in vines and moss and has nothing underneath it, like no one has visited this one in a long time.
I step onto the grass, dodging a few plots, and then bend down to read it.
“Pssst.”
Whirling around, I fall onto my ass once again at the faint whisper.
What the fuck?
Next to the headstone, I look all around, searching for whoever it is, but find nothing. My heart pounds hard and fast. Is my mind playing tricks on me? Creating noises in the darkness of the cemetery to scare me shitless?
I take a breath, relaxing on the grass as I put my hand on the headstone to steady myself.
I wait a few minutes before I move, just in case I didn’t imagine it, and someone approaches me. When I start to believe that no one’s here, and I’m actually just losing my mind, I sigh heavily and stand up.
“Saaaaaaage….” a deep voice growls, making me whip my head around again to find it.
Nope. Fuuuuuuck this. I’m not the dumb girl in the horror movie who ignores the warning signs.
At that, I take off running, cursing myself for traveling so far into the cemetery in the dark. Dodging headstones and markers, my chest heaves as I race toward the front of the graveyard, but when I hear a set of footsteps behind me, I spin around and trip myself.
My hands scrape on the mix of gravel and grass, making my palms sting with small cuts. I push myself up quickly, ignoring the grass stains on my clothes, and start to run again.
Deep laughter echoes behind me, from the side, in front of me, all around me, making me freeze in place and throw my hands out in defense. Pure terror heats my flesh and twists my stomach.
I see nothing but blackness in the depths of the cemetery, the moon high in the sky now as nighttime takes over for dusk.
“Oh, Saaaaaage…” the voice rings out, sounding like it’s in front of me, bringing a scream to my lips that makes my chest shake.
“Fuck this!” I spin around again, planning to run back the opposite way, away from the voice. I run until I don’t hear footsteps behind me anymore, and then I wrap myself around a tree and hold my heaving breaths to listen.
When I hear a twig snap to my right, I take off in a sprint.
I hear someone shout behind me, laughter in their voice. “Run, little rabbit, run!”
The streetlamps are all burned out except a few at the very end of the street, so I move that way, hoping there’s somewhere I can hide out until whoever’s chasing me has given up.
When I reach the end of the little two-lane road where the streetlamp flashes every other breath, I look up at the building sitting just a few feet onto the grass. It’s dark, old, and seems to be abandoned, but it looks like a good place to hide from whatever monster has set its sights on me.
I wiggle each window as I pass in a hurry, and when one finally slides open, I lift myself onto the ledge and swing inside.
It’s musty and mildewing, the small light from the streetlamps giving me a brief glimpse into the messy open space.
There are leaves, papers, and a whole lot of discarded beer cans all over the floor—looks like this might have been where people partied before the graveyard, or maybe it’s where a different group parties.
The thought has my blood pumping faster, because what if this is where whoever was chasing me likes to spend their time.
Adrenaline hits me straight in the heart, and I start running again—this time through the building and up the giant staircase at the back.
When I reach the top of the stairs, I slam into something solid that makes me yelp.
I try to pull back to look at what it is, but hands wrap around the back of my head, pressing me into the solid mass I’m against.
As I take a deep inhale, my lungs and nose fill with the scent of laundry detergent and tobacco, sending a heavy weight of alarm and panic through my body.
It isn’t a scent I recognize, and that scares me most of all.
There was a small part of me that believed it was the Hallows Boys—hunting me down to play the Games with them, but now, I’m certain that it’s something far more sinister.
I scream, swinging my hands to attempt to punch the person holding me steady, but before my fists can make contact, they’re yanked behind my back and secured with something solid and cold.