Chapter 40
Shay-Lee
W ith both hands clenching the steering wheel until my knuckles turned numb, I pushed the gas pedal all the way down once the light turned green. My car accelerated in seconds, and the adrenaline of driving at such speed mixed with my already fueled mind. I had no idea where I was heading, probably nowhere, as I didn’t stop to read road signs after I drove out of the cemetery.
Not even the pleasing sound of the roaring engine was enough to ease my mind like it typically would, and instead, all I heard were the vicious words I tossed at Camilo like darts aiming for their target. Going over everything in my head, starting from the second I plugged that damn flash drive into my laptop, to how I vomited over those images, and to Camilo crying and begging for me to stay, nothing made sense, while at the same time, it did. I understood his pain while I also sided with my rage, as it bubbled inside me like hot lava.
Camilo murdered him .
He butchered him like a pig for slaughter.
Using nothing but his fists, the man I loved, the man who touched me ever so softly, beat the life out of my rapist.
My predator.
My abuser.
My father.
For the life of me, no matter how much I tried, I was never capable of separating all that he was. On the one hand, he was the source of all my fears and agony. On the other, he was the person whose approval I strived for above all. As cruel as he was, for nearly my entire life, he was my anchor, my biggest fear, but also the one place I felt reassurance in. I wanted to escape him just as much as I wanted to stay with him, and the naive side of me wished he was alive so he could atone for his sins and apologize for all that he did to me.
I wanted him to live so maybe, just maybe, I’d be able to forgive him because for some reason, I could never paint him as the villain he was. Because you didn’t want to . True. I was foolish enough to think he wasn’t entirely evil because it was much easier than accepting him for what he was. But I’d never be able to do any of that because he wasn’t alive. If I had any doubts, today, they were all gone. And even in his death, my father still managed to screw me because now, whenever I blinked my eyes, all I saw was blood. The blood Camilo spilled for my sake. Blood that made me sick to my stomach. Blood I wanted nothing to do with… or so I kept telling myself.
“Fuck!” I punched the steering wheel as tears once again blurred my vision. I wiped them away before focusing back on the dark road that stretched ahead. How could I say I didn’t ask for it after everything that I’d shared with Camilo? He’d seen me hurt and bleeding one too many times to ignore my suffering. He had been a ticking time bomb since the beginning, and I only encouraged him further down this destructive path. If not for me, none of that would have happened—he would have never lost his job at the beach club to begin with, meaning he would have never started working for Dion. He’d never have met my dad. He’d never have lost his brother. He’d never have gone to jail over a crime he didn’t commit, and above all, he wouldn’t have sacrificed his soul for my own fucking sake .
Tears coated my eyes as realization sank in. It was me. Once again, I was the source of the problem, just like my father always said I was. A good-for-nothing human being who’d be better off dead, right? I began crying over all this crap until my sobs turned heavier, and so did my breathing, and my sadness turned into anger. Rage over my shitty life, which only seemed to get worse by the minute, and furious, I screamed.
I screamed from the depths of my soul while hitting the steering wheel like a madman. I cursed and swore at the world and its mother until my throat hurt and my voice cracked. I would have probably burst into tears again if not for my phone suddenly buzzing. I glanced at it, hopeful it was Camilo calling, only to see it was Soren. Disappointment washed through me like iced water, and in a split second, I grabbed my phone, opened the window, and threw it out of the moving car. I was such a fool because why on earth would Camilo even call me after what I did? I kicked him, for Christ’s sake. He was on the ground, begging for me to stay—
Oh God.
Oh God.
Oh God.
I blamed him for choosing my dad over me while I just did the exact same thing to him . I allowed the ghost of my father to overpower my love for Camilo, which was wrong. It was wrong because I’d promised to love him no matter what, and I did. I loved him more than I loved myself. But this whole revelation threw me off my game, and as usual, I had to screw things up first before understanding what was the right choice. Instead of talking to Camilo and giving him the space to explain himself, I’d behaved like the deranged freak my father turned me into. I’d allowed my emotions to get the better of my judgment. Emotions that were always so much stronger whenever my dad was involved. As much as I hated this part of myself, I couldn’t just ignore it. My father’s grip was still branded on my skin, even after all those years. Instead of giving in to it as I always had, I should have fought it—the same way Camilo had fought for me .
What Camilo did was wrong. It was a crime. A horrible crime that haunted him to this day and came at the price of years of his life. But anger blinded him, and he chose hate over love. Same as I just did. Instead of pulling him toward me, I pushed him away in such a brutal manner.
Understanding I had to make amends fast , I reached my hand down to grab my phone, but I couldn’t find the damn thing.
“Ugh, shit,” I hissed after remembering I’d tossed it only a few minutes ago. Why the fuck did I even do that? Now, I had no way of calling Camilo to tell him how fucking sorry I was for being a piece of shit. I nibbled on the tips of my fingers, my brain trying to come up with an idea, when I spotted a crossroads ahead. “Good,” I mumbled, already turning on my blinker to take a left and make a U-turn. Hopefully, Camilo was still at the cemetery, and if not, I’d just go out and look for him.
The red light had just turned green, which was good as I didn’t need to slow down my car. Instead, I hit the gas and took the turn. I’d just swung the steering wheel all the way left when bright lights blinded me, followed by an ear-piercing honk that cut through the night like a knife. The next thing I knew, my car was flying through the air with me inside it. It felt like the world froze as everything moved in slow motion. My breath caught in my chest, and my heart galloped while I watched the world spinning with dread. Mere seconds stretched forever until it all came crashing down in a forceful impact that turned everything dark.
The smell of smoke and aluminum reached my nostrils, and I blinked my eyes open to see the airbags deployed. Panicked, I gasped for air that barely reached my lungs before searching for the seat belt. It was completely dark, and my hands roamed over my body until I tracked the buckle. Thankfully, the car didn’t turn over, and once I got myself released, I searched for the door’s handle. My fingers trembled and slipped a couple of times before I managed to open it, and the blast of fresh air helped me to step outside. My knees felt weak, but I stood anyway, almost to make sure I could . One glance at my car, which was completely totaled, told me how fucking lucky I was to be alive right now.
“Fuck,” I hissed and touched my forehead as a sharp pain took over me. My fingers felt warm and sticky, and when I brought my hand down to look at it, I saw blood. Not a lot of blood, but enough to make me—
An image of a ceiling flashed before me, and shaken, I clutched the car’s door for support. Unsure of what I’d just seen, I blinked my eyes a couple of times when suddenly, the odd image returned. Only this time, it didn’t last a second, and instead, I kept seeing those weird visions until they turned clearer and I could see myself lying on a… a bed. Yes . I was on my stomach, and my hands were somehow tied behind my back, while the bed was… stained with blood?
“S-shit,” I hissed before dropping to my knees. I think that someone was calling to ask if I was okay from afar, but at that point, I could hardly focus on what was going on around me. My mind kept going to that weird image of bloodstained sheets. Only it wasn’t just an image but a memory. A memory that became clearer by the second, as now, I also saw Orson’s body half tossed on the bed, half on the floor with a bullet in his head. That was right—just a second ago, I heard the wheezing sound of air piercing before Orson dropped dead. Someone shot him, and that someone was right behind me.
“Sir, are you okay?” some stranger asked as he bent down to assist me, but he only got in the way.
No. No. No. The image was slipping away from me.
“Don’t touch me!” I yelled and pushed whoever was trying to help me while the same words echoed in my brain. Only in my head, they were aimed at someone else. They were aimed at—
I didn’t know. The memory ended abruptly. Desperate to know more, to remember more , from that night, I pressed my forehead to the ground and squeezed my eyes shut. I tried forcing my head to remember when finally—
A hand touched my shoulder, and I froze before someone turned me around. The whole room spun, and it wasn’t until I blinked several times that I saw who it was. The second our eyes met and I saw the darkness lurking in his stare, I knew it was the end.
“S-Shay-Lee, it’s me,” Jordan said with a nervous smile and wild eyes.
Shocked, I stared at him with my mouth open. My throat felt dry and my eyes sore. He gave me one more smile that I almost fell for when my attention wandered back to Orson’s dead body. My heart beat so fast I felt like I was about to die as fear struck me. Fear so intense I didn’t know what to do other than—
“C-Camilo. W-where is he?” I cried.
Jordan’s brows pulled close before he placed the gun on the mattress right beside me. I attempted to pull away, but the unbearable pain in my ankles forbade me from moving.
“Shay-Lee, calm down.”
“Don’t touch me!” I screamed when he attempted to grab my body. “Camilo! I need Camilo!” I demanded while he ignored my request and instead released my hands. “Where is he? Please, I need him.” My eyes welled with tears. “Camilo, please, just please—”
“He isn’t here!” Jordan shouted before dropping the ropes I was tied with beside me. “He’s not here, Shay-Lee. It’s just me, Jordan.”
“I don’t want you!” I roared, unable to understand why he was even here to begin with. How did he know to find me here?
“Shay-Lee—”
“Leave me alone.” I covered my eyes with my palms. “Fuck! Leave me alone! Just leave me the fuck alone!”
“W-what?”
“I said, leave me alone!” I screamed and attempted to move when he, once again, laid his hands on me.
“Shay-Lee, you’re hurt—”
“Don’t touch me!” I screamed and sent my hand forward until it collided with his face, and he dropped his hands from around me.
I didn’t want to be touched. Not again. Not after what Orson had just done to me .
“Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me.” Tears rolled down my cheeks while my body hurt all over. “Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me.” Scared and cold, I lay on my side and grabbed the blanket, not caring that it was stained with blood. I hugged it close to my chest, all while muttering the same words until they all blended together with my crying and turned unrecognizable. But at least Jordan finally got up, and I heard him stepping away until the door shut behind him. I had no idea how long I lay there, but it felt long—too long—until the door opened again.
I glanced at the doorway, hoping Camilo had finally come to rescue me as he’d promised, only to see my dad’s intimidating posture filling the doorway. Our eyes crossed as full dread threatened to break me apart before I looked down at his hand to see he was holding on to Jordan’s crutch.
I swallowed hard, my eyes going up to meet my father’s one last time before I accepted my fate. Laying my head back on the mattress and closing my eyes, I began mumbling the same rhythm.
“Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me—”