17. Motley
SEVENTEEN
Ilook over, seeing she hasn’t moved an inch since being in the car. Her chest calmly rises and falls letting me know she’s at least still breathing. God knows we don’t need another murder on our hands. We tried everything we could to wake her up. Hell, we even dumped water over her and nothing. Harley refused to come with us back to her place to get her settled in, but I can’t say I’m surprised. For all we know, we’ll have another mirror to glue back on when we get home.
Parking her car in her driveaway, I get out and walk over to her passenger door as Weston drives up behind us with our car. I unbuckle her seatbelt and scoop her up while Weston takes her keys from me to go unlock her door. Her torn leggings would have her flashing anyone that would be outside, but thankfully it’s only midnight. The last thing we need is someone calling the cops on us.
Making it to her room, I lay her down on the bed.
“Okay job’s done. Let’s go!” I say. I start to walk out until Weston stops me with his arm hitting my chest, pulling me back into her room.
“Dude, no. We can’t let her sleep in that,” he whisper yells.
“I don’t really care what she sleeps in. Now come o–”
“No!” he spits out. He walks to her closet, rummaging through her clothes until he finds a pair of cotton shorts and a plain, black top.
He starts undressing her leggings as he looks over, nodding his head for me to come help. Rolling my eyes, I help him undress her by taking off her shirt and bra, her gorgeous tits on display for us. Although, they’d look better pierced and clamped.
Her body turns to the side on her own accord, making both of us stop what we’re doing. Her breathing settles once more, giving us the go ahead to resume. Weston gives me her shirt, putting it over her head then bending her arms and putting them through the arm holes. We both finish dressing her when Weston scoops her back up.
“Open up her blanket so she can be covered.”
“Weston…”
“Just fucking do it,” he commands, still whispering.
Pulling her covers to the side, he lays her back in the bed, covering her up. Her body turns to the side facing us as she nuzzles her head in the blanket. I take out her phone from my jeans pocket, setting it down on her nightstand and plug it in.
“Is that everything? Can we go now?” I ask.
He inspects her one more time then nods his head, starting to quietly walk out of her room, closing the door behind us.
“How are we going to lock her apartment back up? She’s all alone.” I raise my brows and squinting my eyes, confused if I just heard that correctly.
“Wes, the only people that would break in are us and Harley. She’s fine. Let’s go.”
We get in our car and start to make the drive back home when Weston breaks the silence.
“Why do we hate her again?” His eyes remain on the road, but I can see the deep thought in his sapphire eyes.
“Did you really just ask me that? She’s made these last six months hell because–”
“Of him, Motley…Our boss,” he redirects my answer.
“Whatever, dude,” I say frustrated.
“Why don’t we all just take him down? I mean, continue to hate her all you want, but do you know who we’re working for? What he did to us? Something tells me she isn’t the true problem here, Motley.” He looks over at me for a moment while my eyes focus on what’s in front of me.
“And youuu…are saying…?”
“Let’s kill him.” He shrugs his shoulders like what he said was no big deal. I turn my head to face him with surprise, not expecting those words to fall out of his mouth.
“Weston, are you fucking insane? Don’t you think we would’ve already done that if we were able to?”
“Motley, listen to yourself right now! We’ve never had the chance to do it. He’s never made himself known, so of course we’ve never been able to kill him.”
Weston’s right. We’ve only seen him in passing two years ago at the party. No one but Harley was there at the time it happened and when we did show up, he was already gone. Even afterwards, we were too concerned with him killing us. We waited for the police to show up knocking on Harley’s door, saying he’s just been charged with murder. We never saw what happened, thankfully, but we saw the aftermath of what it did to Harley. We all ended up getting sucked into it, but we didn’t consider leaving Harley to fend for himself for a second.
“We need to find out why he wants her so bad and why he can’t just get her himself. I mean surely, he’s locked up.”
“I’m sure if he wasn’t, he would’ve already made himself known,” he suggests.
We arrive back at the haunted house, driving around the back. My mind still races, thinking about the possibilities of killing him. How do we even go about this? I’ve never killed anyone, but I’ve been tempted. Could this even actually work?
“What do you think Harley is going to say?” I ask as he turns the car off, sitting there for a moment.
“Fuck what Harley says! He should be wanting to kill him just as much as I do,” he raises his voice, his frustration growing heavy. Sitting back in his seat, he relaxes his body and turns his head towards me. “I just want the old Harley back. I want to be who we were before this shit happened.” The pain in his voice is loud yet he doesn’t break a whisper. I grab his hand, squeezing it tight.
“We’ll get us back, Wes…we’ll get us back,” I reassure him, but I can’t say that’s a promise.
Seeing how broken Weston remains sends pain to my chest. It’s like getting stabbed with tiny needles over and over again. None of us deserve all of this and whether Harley was going to like it or not, we need to kill him. Why wasn’t this our plan to begin with?
“I’m so sorry…” she cries, hugging herself as her own blood covers her body. I continue staring at the mirror as my fists curl, looking at her trapped body. She continues to cry out as I wind up my hand when suddenly she lunges to the mirror. I jump back with fear, hovering my arms over my head. When I go to look up again, she’s gone. I let out a deep sigh, turning on the shower.
I don’t want her gone, but I do want her free. She started making herself known when we moved here for some reason. But, like always, breaking a mirror doesn’t grant her freedom. It just creates more portals for her to stay trapped. Even with her ghostly and bloody figure, she still remains one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever met. Her name is still unknown to me, but I call her Ophelia. She doesn’t seem to mind; every time I say it her cries stop for just a moment. I’ll always blame myself for her murder. Our boss was right, it was all my fault. I just stood there, watching it all unfold.
My muscles start to relax the moment the hot water hits my body. I lean my head on the shower wall, letting the warmth fall down my back.
What the fuck are you doing, Harley…
I repeatedly slam my palms on the tiled walls. As the days go by, Winver keeps making them longer. More excruciating than the last and it’s only been four full days of getting my hands on her. Why now, after all this time I’ve spent watching her from a distance? I still can’t stand her. I still want nothing more than to break her, but at the same time I feel a pull back. Hesitant, almost. Is she starting to get in my head? Play with my thoughts like an angel playing the harp?
“God fucking dammit!” I yell. Suddenly there’s a knock on my bathroom door.
“Fuck off, Motley,” I yell, turning myself around to face the door. It opens up anyways. “It’s actually both of us,” Weston muses.
“I’m kind of busy here,” I say, waving my hand around the shower.
“Nothing we haven’t seen before,” Motley smirks, giving me a once over.
“Spit it out.” My patience is growing thin.
“New plan, better idea!” Weston exclaims. I wipe away the fog on the shower door, seeing both of them better.
“We need to kill him,” Motley says. I raise a brow in confusion, now starting to lather my body with soap. “And how do you plan on doing that?” I ask.
“He’s going to have to show up at some point,” Weston points out.
“What the hell are you two getting at here?”
They look at each other like they’re telepathically having a conversation for a moment, then turn their heads back to me at the same time. Motley steps up to the shower door, his breath creating more fog on the other side before speaking up.
“We want our life back, Harley.”