Chapter 61
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Grave Bell - Diggy Graves
Buffalo's gone. Buffalo’s gone, Buffalo’s gone, Buffalo’s gone .
I clutch his decapitated body to my chest, squeezing so hard that maybe it’ll make the pain go away.
But it won’t. If it did, the last few days of holding him would have changed that.
I’m sober. Painfully, body-shakingly sober. And not willingly, either. Withdrawal has been a bitch, and Logan, an even bigger one. He physically slammed me against the wall in the kitchen when I tried to go for a snack. An alcohol ‘snack,’ but Logan went over the top crazy. Screamed in my face about how it was killing me, blah, blah, blah.
There are times I want it to kill me. And then there are times that I want to kill everyone else. Especially Callum Walker. And then there are the times I feel nothing and the times I cry uncontrollably. Nothing feels stable. Nothing feels right.
And Buffalo hasn’t spoken to me once.
So now, I’m curled up in Dakota’s bed, facing the closet, and clutching what’s left of Buffalo’s body. I feel like I’m being crushed. I’m cold and hot at the same time, sweating and shivering. I’m pretty sure Logan would have dragged me to a rehab facility by now, but I guess if you check the box: ‘I’m a murderer,’ they’ll call the cops or some shit.
It’s late. Not that time means anything to me anymore, but I try not to sleep. Sleeping means dreaming, and I’m tired of seeing the kids. Tired of having that conversation with Caroline about her stuffed dog at home, tired of seeing Bethany’s hair fall into her face as she refuses to look at Buffalo, tired of seeing their abuser’s faces as they walk free.
My eyes burn with tears yet again just as the door cracks open. Immediately, I freeze, and then anger washes over me. They can’t just give me two fucking minutes? Let me rot, please, for the love of god, some human decency??
Soft footsteps pad over to my side of the bed.
I squeeze my eyes shut. Maybe I should kill whoever just walked in here. Kill them for seeing me so…so…
“Hey.”
Fuck. It’s Dakota. I was hoping it would be Logan so I could lay into him about what a royal cunt he’s been.
“Fuck off,” I growl. I don’t want to talk to Dakota, even though he shot Callum. Which I should be grateful for, but also, he didn’t kill him like he deserved. Callum silenced Buffalo. And he’s the only one I want to talk to.
“L-l-l,” Dakota gets stuck on that word for a second. “Logan said to drink this-s-s.”
I keep my eyes closed because I’m pretty sure if I open them, I’ll keep crying, and that can absolutely not happen. I keep my voice gruff. “Logan can kiss my ass.”
Silence.
Fuck, I’m fucking cold. A shiver racks through me.
I hear Dakota put something on the bedside table, and then the end of the bed dips.
Oh fuck. Did he think I was crying? I snap my eyes open to glare at him. “I’m just cold.”
Dakota just flops down at the end of the bed, staring at the ceiling.
“What are you doing?” Horror fills me. Is he staying? Oh fuck no. I extend my feet, gently shoving Dakota off the bed.
Yes, gently. I am a bit of a hero when I want to be.
Dakota gasps and hits the ground with a thump. “What the fuck?”
The sound of a grown man hitting the carpet is almost enough to make me feel better. Almost.
“It’s my bed, you know.” Dakota glares at me.
I stifle my smirk, then go back to staring at the wall.
“L-l-logan said if you don’t drink it, he’ll beat my ass.”
I snort. “Well, then, I definitely won’t drink it.”
There’s a silence, and then Dakota sighs and scoots so he’s sitting against the closet door.
“What are you doing?” Panic and apathy war inside me. Why can’t I get rid of this guy?
“Hiding.” Dakota closes his eyes, leaning his head back.
Panic wins over the apathy, and I snarl, “Oh, are you already on the outs with your new bestie?” Logan and Dakota have spent the last few days in the living room. It’s unbearably bright in there, so I’ve been in here. Plus, I don’t want to see anyone.
It’s still made me jealous.
“We aren’t friends.”
Sure they aren’t. Dakota distracted me while Logan took what was left of Buffalo and cleaned the dried blood off of him. It was a violation of the highest degree. I didn’t want anyone’s hands on him. Not after…
Tears burn in my eyes, and then horror follows quickly after. I don’t want Dakota to see me cry.
“Get out,” I bark, but it doesn’t come out as commanding.
Dakota just sits there. Then, his words come out quietly, “You know, for what it’s worth…I’m s-s-sorry.”
Oh fuck. The words dig deep into the wound that’s already there, and I can’t help the shuddering breath I draw in to keep from crying.
Don’t cry. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry .
I need a distraction. Anything! Where the hell is Buff when I need him to make some inappropriate comment?
And that makes me cry for real. It’s silent, but the huge breath I suck in isn’t. It hurts. It fucking hurts so bad, and I need it to stop. I need it to fucking stop; I can’t take it any longer.
I sit up so fast it makes me dizzy. I need a drink. I don’t care if I have to fist-fight Logan for it, I’m gonna get that damn drink.