Chapter Sixty-Two
Cade
M y heart hammers under the weight of a boulder as I creep towards the shack. The sun is gone now, but the night’s chill is doing nothing for the sweat on the back of my neck, and the chirping of the crickets is overwhelmingly loud as dread desecrates everything that could have been.
I didn’t cover the bombs.
I wasn’t thinking. I was distracted. I never should have disabled the ax. Now I have to do this with my bare hands. My vision tunnels at the reality, the fact that I’ve been caught, and what I have to do. But instead of the typical red, it’s black. The color of desperation as it claws at my psyche. Prison bars merge with sterile fluorescents, bleaching out Sky’s pretty face as I struggle to breathe.
A pin prick of sight is all I have left as I avoid the creak of the first plank and see who was stupid enough to come here. I stand in the doorway, a motionless statue of resigned chaos as my heart sinks.
No.
Everything in me wants to back out and run as I see who’s kneeling by the crate, unaware of my presence, with one of my bombs in their hands. They twist it this way and that, examining it. It’s not a glimpse that can be mistaken, or a chemical powder that can be explained away. It’s my whole insidious plan right in their face. It’s everything I’ve fought so hard to hide, carelessly displayed for their curious eyes. And their knowledge steals my options. It rakes panic down my spine. It ruins everything .
The loose wire to my right is suddenly winding around my fist, biting into my skin with each loop. And then the other. So tightly wrapped that circulation ceases. I squeeze and test the tension as a searing tear drips down my cheek. I don’t want to do this. Not to them. But I have to. I don’t have a choice. It’s them or me, and I can’t stop myself. This is what I’ve conditioned myself for, regardless of how wrong it feels now.
A sob rips from my throat as I lunge forward, alerting the one person that was never supposed to die. His usual dopey gaze swings to me, switching from surprise to fear in less than a second. Bobby’s eyes widen at the garrote. It’s the last thing I see etched into my brain as my vision blacks out.
I’m in darkness as I secure the wire around his neck, my body somehow doing what my brain can’t accept. My head is prickling like I’ve been holding my breath, even though I’m gasping. The sound almost matches Bobby’s choking, and my muscles strain against his clawing, trying to cut off the last bit of his airway. He’s no match for me, unfortunately, and my stomach roils as I lift him off the ground. I think I’m saying something, but it’s drowned out by the scuffling of his shoes. I can taste hot tears curling under my lip, and I sputter on them as his nails scratch at my wrists. But my body is locked, trapping his back against me, and I take every gouge unaffected.
Claw me, buddy. Fight. Get free. Don’t let me kill you.
But he’s losing stamina, and I’m too strong. I’m glad I can’t see it, and I recoil further, hoping to block out his wheezing rasps. I sink into the blackness, letting the weight of Bobby’s inevitable death pull me down. I relinquish control and fall. Down. Down. Down . For a moment, it’s blissful. Quiet. Safe. There’s no gurgling or remorse. Nothing. Until my own face appears in the void, set in the cracked mirror from the workbench.
It’s me, but it’s not. I’m not blinking, my pupils blown and glazy, and I’m not sure if they are even focused. There’s a slack in my jaw that I’ve never seen before. I’m usually clenching my teeth, a tendency that follows me even when I’m not angry. But this version of me is loose. Hollow. Chillingly absent.
I watch, unsure why my mind is showing me this, as the void me lifts a hand. My wrist is limp like it’s asleep, and I use my fingers to drag a white substance down my cheek. Paint, I realize as the fumes somehow hit me, as if they are right under my nose. I smear crude streaks across my face, dipping somewhere below, until my skin is bleached in it, and then the white on my fingers is replaced with black.
No. No. No.
Cold realization hits me as void me drags circles around my eyes, giving a sunk-in effect to my sockets. The creepy art comes together, haphazard and messy, but clear. My reflection tilts their head, examining their handiwork, examining the skull they’ve turned them self into.
What the fuck is this? A memory or something I’m conjuring? No sooner than I think it, the scene changes.
I get a moment of reprieve as I realize it’s Sky, curled up in her bed. Her hair is splayed around her, one dainty ankle hanging off the edge. She’s breathing softly as the moonlight glows against the polished floors. But then it starts to move rapidly, time ticking in fast forward, as the moon shifts across the room.
I look down, where the gleam hits my boots. My boots. In the corner of her room. Attached to my legs that adjust to sink further into the shadows. Have I been watching her?
Suddenly my boots are hitting soil, stomping through muck in the woods as branches whip past. I’m breathing heavily, my perspective careening left and right at the trees. I’m looking for something. Someone. It’s dark, and I’m struggling to see until water comes right up at me.
An icy splash jolts me, and I’m back in the shack.
And at my feet is Bobby’s body.