Chapter Sixty-Seven
Cade
I bury the pills before I can be tempted to take them. To take all of them. A chasm has ripped open in my chest and I’m bleeding out. I’m seeping everything Sky, and I can’t staunch the hemorrhaging. Every kiss, every lick between her legs, every time I came inside her. It all plays and plays and plays. Her smile, her eyes, the way her hair swishes and the way I broke her fucking heart .
I use my fists to pack the soil on top of the scattered white pills and scream.
“Fuck!” my voice echoes in the woods.
It rips my throat raw, but I could still swallow the pills. I want nothing more than to swallow every last one and make it stop, make it all stop. The tears I caused in Sky’s eyes make me want to gouge my own out. And the betrayal I stamped on her skin has me wanting to flay my own. Her lip trembled before she could school it, but I saw it all. She tried to hide it. She really did, but I know her too well. And I know what I’ve done to her.
I took a good, pure thing, made it trust me and love me, and then set it on fire. I took her body, her heart, and soon, I’ll take her life.
Tears litter the dirt at the thought, but I have to.
She can’t be left behind to find out what I did. She can never know about Bobby. She can hate me for being cruel, but she can never, ever know she laid with a monster. I couldn’t stomach it. I would never rest in death. Not that I deserve it. But that would be a different kind of torture. One I’m too much of a coward to endure.
I press up from the dirt with a pathetic excuse for resolve, remembering that specific hell will be waiting for me if I die too soon.
When I get back to the shack, it’s in disarray and I have to pick through it to find the soldering gun. I check that it has enough charge, squinting between the sandpaper that has become my eyelids, and then pocket it. I gather what else I need and head out the door, feeling sorry I took so long.
It’s less than a mile walk, but my legs are heavy as I traipse through the underbrush. I want to say I’m relieved when I reach Bobby’s unmarked grave, but relief is elusive. It’s no more than a made up word now.
“Sorry I was gone for so long,” I say and settle down next to the mound of soil.
My hands shake as I lay out my tools, but I don’t have the luxury of rest. I got too far behind when I was entertaining a life not meant for me.
Flashes of Sky, curled up in the library, burn behind my aching sockets, and I have to glance at the heap of dirt, at the already decaying body beneath, and remind myself this is my life now. Because I’m not going to leave Bobby here alone to rot. I’m going to make sure my soul will be here for eternity with him. He won’t ever be lonely. Not Bobby, not the only friend I ever had.
“I don’t know if you got a good enough look,” I clear the tightness from my throat. “but this right here—” I twist the circuit board towards the mound. “—is how I can remotely detonate.” My cheek tips up in a mangled, wry smile. “You probably thought it would be bigger, huh? It’s not like it is in the movies, though.” I lean back and attach a wire. “Technology is really good now. The remote can fit in the palm of my hand. No one will have a clue.”
I imagine Bobby nodding and saying cool .
“Yeah, and you should see what I did with the teddy bears.”
I pause for him to inquire further, waiting while a cricket finishes its chirping in the silence of the woods.
“Facial recognition,” I tell him. “It was complicated, but I bet you could have figured it out, too. I know you’re a sophomore and all, but you’re smart. Jesus, you could probably get this done faster than me. I saw how quickly you programmed that satellite phone. You’re also more meticulous than me. You took forever picking out the best one. I wanted to kill you in that camping store.”
I laugh at the irony; the sound snaking through the forest, as I remember how angry I was when he dragged me into Merv’s Outdoor Equipment. He caught me outside the post office and was adamant that I needed to help him find something for Callie.
Callie.
My laughter dies, my chest tightening as I picture the note I wrote to her.
“I’m sorry, buddy.” I sigh. “But the more ruthless the breakup, the less she’ll go digging for closure.”