Chapter Nine
Elijah
Why aren’t they lit? What’s happening here?
The anxiety I’d been doing my best to swallow and tamp down, telling myself that everything would be fine once I got home, was gliding over every part of my conscious mind. I could feel my hands shaking as I kept trying to get my key in the door. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I took a deep breath to steady myself. The key slipped in, and I braced myself for what I was going to find.
More darkness. No lights on the banister, no snow globes, no nothing. And most importantly, no Bonnie.
I ran upstairs first, bypassing the kitchen and living room, telling myself that she was just sleeping.
Something was wrong with the electric, and she was definitely up there.
I tried to go as quietly as I could so I wouldn’t wake her, but I ended up tripping over my feet and falling back down them the way I came. That hurt.
I sprinted back up the stairs—this time, without falling—and turned on the bedroom light to be met with an empty bed. No no no no no. I started yelling when I realized she wasn’t in bed.
“Bonnie? Bonnie Baby? Are you here?” I pushed open the bathroom, turning on every light I could, like she would be hiding in the shadows.
“Bonnie Baby?” I yelled again, tearing through the rest of the upper floor.
The guest room and its bathroom came up empty, and I flew back down the stairs, turned on the kitchen light, and was stopped by the sight of the tree in front of me.
Our tree. At least, I thought it was our tree. It was…bare. Except for—what is that?
I went over, flicked on the living room light, and couldn’t believe I had missed it when I came in.
I hovered in the entryway, my heart racing as I took in the scene.
In a completely silent house, right in the middle of the living room, was our tree.
But the ornaments were ones I’d never seen before.
They looked like…pictures? I found myself unable to move to get a closer look because there was a feeling that had started sometime when I couldn’t get a hold of Bonnie.
One that I didn’t understand, didn’t fully grasp because I’d never felt it before.
One that was making it impossible to move.
I stepped closer to the tree. An agonizing pain rippled through me, and my eyes widened as I saw them.
Quotes; each one printed over pictures of us, each one placed perfectly on the tree, each one a dagger to my heart.
They were words I had let slide, words I ignored, words I told myself didn’t matter.
Words I had stood by and remained silent about while my friends mocked her and laughed at her.
My stomach churned as I read the words over and over again, each one a painful reminder of my cowardice.
What do you even see in her?
Is she a freak in the sheets, come on, you can tell us.
So many hurtful things. Tears rimmed my eyes, and I lost the breath in my lungs as I realized that she had read all of them, and read that I hadn’t said anything. I moved to the other side of the tree, taking it all in before falling to my knees and almost landing on a present.
I frowned. What is this?
I couldn’t stop myself, so I opened it.
My iPad?
Then I noticed the sticky note with a number on it. 213.
What does this mean? Then it hit me. Tiffany’s room number.
This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. All the dots started to connect. Not getting notifications to messages. Bonnie must have gotten them. My mouth dropped open, and I couldn’t help it as I puked all over the floor.