11
OLIAS
I wipe my hand down my face, letting out a long breath. The speed of blood running through my body increases with each passing second.
It makes sense now. She was on that roof for a reason, and her pathetic boyfriend is probably it.
No words leave my mouth as I grab my coat from the couch and put it on. Clarity looks at me with confusion written across her face, tears running down her cheeks. She nibbles at her bottom lip, her arms wrapped around herself.
How could he hurt someone so precious?
Thinking only makes me want to punch the fucking wall in, so I need to stop doing it.
I eye Clarity's phone on the coffee table and swipe it up.
"Olias, what are you doing?" She asks softly, tears weakening her words.
I don't answer her; she doesn't need to know my plan. Tapping her phone lights up, and a picture of her grinning appears on the lock screen. My eyes stick on the picture for a moment or two, drawn to the pretty face.
I swipe the screen; there is no password. Something told me this girl wouldn't have one in the first place. I stuff her phone in my pocket when she grabs my elbow.
"You can't go to him! Please , don't go to him," she begs, her chest heaving.
Why are you protecting such a piece of shit?
My hand comes down to the nape of her neck, and I lean in and kiss her forehead.
I can't stand seeing her like this. Leaning back, I see her eyes flutter open.
"I'm not going to, okay?" I lie. "I'm just going for a walk. To cool off."
I can't look at her in her eyes. The only thing I see now is the bruise on her temple, making me wonder how many other bruises are on her body that aren't visible. How many times has he hurt her mentally? Internally. How far does he go with this shit?
I turn towards the door, but Clarity grabs my hand, and the touch of her soft skin makes my heart flutter.
"You have to pinky-promise me first," she holds up her pinky, "that you won't go trying to find Jonah and you won't hurt him. I don't want anyone hurt, Olias. Promise me?"
I stare at her, forcing my anger down for her sake with a sigh.
Lifting my hand, wrapping my pinky with hers, I whisper, "I promise.”
I promise he won't hurt you again.
She smiles. But not the bright smile that makes me feel things. No, a downturned smile that makes me want to slam someone's fucking head in. Jonah's head.
Without another word, I find myself out of my apartment, leaving Clarity inside before she can ask about her phone. She can't leave the house, she has no car, phone, or money, and it’s dark as shit. I pull out my phone, dialing Michael's number as I race down the stairs.
In two rings, he picks up. "Olinda! What's good?" Voices in the background meet my ear. He hasn't rested with this Olinda shit since he heard Clarity call me it.
"Where are you right now?"
"At Kyle's house with Tanner, you’re on speaker," he answers, greetings following his words in the background. "We would've invited your ass, but you wouldn't have come anyway."
Correct.
I get in my car. "Listen, I'm driving over there. Meet me downstairs, all of you."
From the tone of my voice, I hear him turn serious. His words become clear, indicating he has me against his ear before saying, "Shit, what's going on?"
I start the car. "I'll tell you when I get there. Just tell those fucks in the back what I just told you." No more questions follow as I hang up.
If there's one thing about my guys, no matter how fucking annoying they are, when I need them, they're there.
***
"That piece of shit!" Michael shouts, sitting beside me in the car as I finish telling them about the bruise on Clarity that her boyfriend gave her.
Kyle and Tanner sit in the back seat. Kyle, with his coiled head of hair, leans forward, "What a pussy. Who hits their girlfriend? And by what I saw her doing in that kitchen at Jasmine's party, she's one sexy—"
"Finish that sentence, and we're stepping out of the car," I interrupt, turning a corner.
"My bad," he chuckles.
I eye Tanner laughing with Kyle in the rearview mirror, brushing his blonde hair back with his fingers. "Damn, Ollie, I haven't seen you this strung up on a girl in a minute."
Michael, beside me, turns his head to face them between our chairs. " Right ? I think she's the one for him," he snickers.
Tanner laughs loudly. "Like that RiRi song?" I roll my eyes; he's been obsessed with Rihanna forever. Not that it's a bad thing, but there was a point when Rihanna was all we heard from him.
Michael gasps. "Exactly like that song, dude."
Not even a minute passes before the car aux is stuck into Michael's phone, and You Da One by Rihanna is being blasted.Kyle, Tanner, and Michael sing along, changing the lyrics to fit Clarity and me.
Kill me now.
"Come on, Ollie, tell us," Michael says. "Does she have the sweetest touch?" He refers back to the nine-year-old fucking lyrics.
I sigh, my eyes not leaving the road as I lean back in my seat.
Tanner pokes his head between the seats. "You think about her all day, huh? Dream even?"
I lift one hand from the wheel to flip them all off, which only fills the car with deep chuckles. Then they return to singing the song.
Because they all know since I’ve met her, she's the reason I've been pulled out of my house. Because of her, I've talked to them for the first time in four months. It’s because of her that they have me back.
Because of Clarity.
***
With Clarity's phone, it wasn't hard to find his address, which was plugged into her Google Maps, labeled "My Home."
My mouth runs dry as I think about her living with the guy who hits on her.
Where are her parents? Are they even in the picture?The more I learn about this woman the less I feel like I know.
The house is in Queens, not far from where Jasmine lives, which I find weird. Why didn't Clarity tell me she lived in Queens when we went to the party? And if she lives in Queens, why did she work all the way in Manhattan?
I step onto the porch, knock on the door, and wait a few moments.
No answer.
My hand wipes down my mouth as I huff. Tanner moves up and bangs on the door, shouting, "Open the fucking door, you piece of shit!"
No answer.
Michael, on the other side of me, tries at the knob aggressively, not expecting it to open, but when it does, we all freeze in surprise.
Who leaves their door unlocked? Fucking idiot.
First, I walk in. The house is pin-drop quiet, and I can barely see in front of my feet. The sound of our footsteps cracks the silence, the creaking wood below announces our presence if the banging on the door hasn’t already. We all observe in search of Jonah.
But there's something wrong. There's something definitely wrong.
Clarity is a clean freak, yet this house is filthy.
There's trash everywhere, couches that look beyond their usable years, and the floor is layered with something that sticks to my shoe with every step. The light in the kitchen is flickering. Several flies surround the open pizza box on the counter.
Kyle, walking behind us, clears his throat. "As the only black person in this group, I think I'm obligated to guide you guys away from our deaths, not towards it. And this shit looks sketchy as hell."
We all turn to eye him. "We’re not leaving. I need to see what she returns to when she's not with me," I say. Shortly after, muttering, "If Clarity lives here, there's no way I'm letting her back." We start walking through the house. "I'm gonna look upstairs for the bastard, he might be sleeping or some shit. Kyle, stay down here to watch outside—"
"Yeah, leave the only black guy down here. You do know we're the first to die in horror movies almost every time, right?"
I squint at him, glaring. "Does this look like a movie set to you?"
He raises his hands. "I'm just stating facts."
Tanner snorts. "No, you're just being a pussy again."
Kyle Santos is the most paranoid guy I know. This 185-pound quarterback sleeps with a nightlight on, for fucks sake…
"Eat my ass, Tanner. I'm the least pussy guy in this house right now," Kyle whispers harshly through his teeth.
Michael laughs soundlessly. "Aren't you the one that FaceTime me from your bathroom because you said someone broke into your house?"
"That doesn't count, alright," Kyle claims, "I was high as shit , and no one told my sister to be up at three in the morning making a sandwich that loud."
I sigh. It's like I brought children with me. "Can we fuck this guy up and get out? I promised Clarity something, and I don't want her to know I came here."
Kyle coughs the word “whipped”.
I shake my head, making my way upstairs with Michael while Tanner stays accompanying Kyle's scary ass.
When we get to the stairs, I point down the hall. "Start looking in the rooms. He has to be in one, so when you find him, come get me."
Michael nods, his brown hair split down the middle, coming down both sides of his head. He almost meets me in height. Almost . He was the cornerback on our college football team when I was still playing quarterback. Kyle stepped into my quarterback position after I left. He hadn't wanted to because he was sure I'd come back. But I haven't, and I won't.
Michael and I split off down the hallway, and I found myself twisting a bedroom doorknob.
Despite the darkness, I stiffen as I manage to read the name that's carved on a fake wooden sign: Clarity.
Flicking on the light, the room is unoccupied, but unlike the rest of the house, it's spotless. That’s more like her.
On one side of the room, a white bookshelf filled with books sits. In the center, against the wall, a bed is covered with a lavender-colored comforter and white sheets. It reminds me of Vanessa's room.
I step in further, taking in the smell of flowers. The smell I've pinpointed to be Clarity's scent.
Fake vines hang from the corner of the room, and below them, a desk. On the desk, a stack of books sits. So, she's a reader. From this room alone, I'm just now realizing how little I know of her.
I want to know more about her.
My lip curls up as my gaze drops to the Frosted Flakes cereal box on the desk's edge. And then I notice a notebook, a diary it looks like.
I pick it up, inspecting it in my hands.
Fuck, this feels wrong. I got mad at her for touching Vanessa's stuff and here I am in her things.
But the notebook attracts me like a magnet. The title reads Who Is Clarity?
Do I dare open it?
‘Olias!” I snap my head to the door, and panicking, Michael pokes his head through it, panting and repeating my name. Placing the notebook on the desk, my body stiffens in alert.
"What?!" I whisper urgently.
"Come here," he spews, leaving the doorway.
Quickly, I follow him down the hall to where he stops. The light of a bathroom floods the hallway, and Michael's hands thread through his hair, making my heart race. Did someone see us and call the police? What the hell has got him like this?
Nothing else comes to mind other than him finding Jonah. But why would the fucker be in the bathroom, of all places?
But his reaction makes all the sense once I see what he sees.
And now I don't think this is Jonah's house at all.
My breath lodges in my throat at the sight of a woman—an older woman with brown chestnut-colored hair—lying inside her bathroom tub. She looks just like Clarity, with long eyelashes, a large round eye shape, and full lips. It doesn't take me long to realize it's her mom.
At first, I thought she might’ve slipped and fallen in the tub. But there's no water. And when I step closer, my eyes trail down her clothed body to see her left arm.
The arm that's jabbed with a needle.
Fuck . Fuck .Fuck .
"Olias, what the fuck do we do?!" Michael panics.
Now, it's my hand that's pulling at my hair. I shoot an order, "Go get Kyle and Tanner.”
"Are we going to jail? I can't go to fucking jail. I'm on a scholarship—"
I turn around to face Michael, his face beaming red. "Go get Tanner and Kyle!" My words booming through the hallway.
He nods, rushes backward, and races down the stairs.
I face the woman in the tub. Her face is pale, unlike Clarity's, which is always covered with blush and full of color. I drop to my knees in front of her.
Please tell me you're alive.
But by the lack of movement from her chest, the chance of that being true is slim.
How the fuck will I explain to Clarity that I broke into this house to do exactly what she told me not to do to Jonah? How do I explain to her that instead of finding Jonah, I found her mother , overdosed and not breathing? A needle in her arm to prove it.
I pull out my phone from my jacket pocket. As I go to the dial pad, it begins to shake from my unsteady hand.
9-1-1.
Footsteps approach me and stop. "Oh shit ," I hear Tanner whisper under his breath from behind.
Yeah, oh shit.
Oh, fucking, shit.