Chapter 13
“DO ALL MY FRIENDS HATE ME?” BY MCKENNA GRACE
The garage door to my best friend’s house opened at three in the morning after a depressing text that screamed cry for help.
I was glad she knew me so well, because I didn’t know where to go.
I’d been sitting beside the grave I dug for Jamison for two hours in the heavy rain, covered in blood and my own vomit.
Although I knew it was incredibly stupid for me to turn up to her house like this, I had no choice. I needed someone, and the only person I knew was strong enough when I wasn’t was Erica Kane.
“What the…” Erica’s eyes widened at the sight of me dragging my feet under the motion light. She squinted down the dark hallway behind her before hastily rushing to meet me at the entrance. She closed the door quietly behind her. “Did they hurt you again? Q, what the fuck happened to you?”
“I didn’t know what to do,” I mumbled numbly and felt the heaviness of my head weigh to the left.
Before I could let myself fall with it, Erica’s hand cradled my bloody cheek and wrapped a hand around my waist.
I’d cried too much. Not a single tear was falling anymore.
My eyes felt like they were on fire. It felt like Erica shoved soap in my eyes and left me to sob under the faucet.
My face was sticky with Jamison’s blood.
It was raining still, just as it had been when I was walking through the forest, searching for Dominik’s old truck near the old wood splitting barn.
I was lucky it had enough gas to make it to Coven.
“Els.” Erica cupped my face with one hand and forced me to meet her eyes. Those pretty brown eyes shot left to right numerous times before shuffling closer and searching my ripped shirt. “Baby, where are you hurt?”
Maybe it was the way she called me baby, or the softness of her fingers on my face. Something pulled me to lean my head against hers. It could have been the pure shock I’d fallen into after nearly killing myself dragging Jamison into the back of the truck.
I leaned in without thinking. Erica’s attention was still split between the heavy amount of blood on my body when our lips met. Her hands grabbed my shoulders quickly and gently pushed me back.
“Quincy, don’t,” Erica whispered.
There was a terror in her eyes that wasn’t there moments ago, a shimmering sentence on the edge of her tongue as our lips brushed. She turned her head and stepped to my side, moving a hand up to caress my cheek.
“You don’t want this.” Erica tucked my damp pink hair behind my ears and gulped. “Tell me how I can help you. You can’t sleep this away.”
“I-I . . .”
“What happened to you?” Erica’s eyes scanned my body once more. “Do you need to go to a hospital? We can drive to Silverwood. You don’t have to go to Memorial with your dad.”
“It’s not my blood,” I numbly whispered.
Erica paused for a long moment, and her eyes flashed with more fright than before. It slowly faded as she forced my cheek to the left. Once she recovered, she stepped forward and narrowed her eyes.
“Els, what did you do?” she asked quietly.
I gulped.
“What did you?—”
“I-I didn’t. I . . .” I peered over my shoulder toward the truck. There was still a muddy smear on the back of the tailgate. I tried to scrub blood off with dirt, but it was still there if I squinted. “A higher up. He shot Jamison.”
“Jamison?”
“Baseball player from Blackhawk.” I winced when Erica’s eyes widened. She followed my eyes to the truck.
“Is he . . .” Erica held her breath. “In there?”
“No,” I choked out, meeting her eyes and feeling my teeth chatter as my chin quivered. “I wouldn’t do that to you. I shouldn’t have come.”
“Shut up,” Erica said, though she had no force behind her words as she examined me closely. “Come on. Let’s clean you up.”
She tried to pull me inside by my hand, but my feet felt like dead weights. I reached up and felt my soaked clothes rub against me as my fingers dragged through my messy hair.
“Quinn.” Erica glanced toward the streetlights. “We have to go inside before someone sees you.”
Slowly, I swallowed and flinched at the taste of metal and bile in my mouth. My head bobbed, and I took an unsteady step, leaning into Erica for the next. Then, my feet stopped again.
“I-Is Ollie here?” I asked, shaking my head. “She can’t . . . She can’t see me like this.”
I tried to step back, but Erica held me tight. My eyes shot to hers, frowning when she seemed almost as frightened by my question as I was.
Erica paused for a long moment, her eyes flickering with fear before fading away when she grabbed my hand tighter. Once she seemed to recover, she tugged me to the entrance roughly, pressing her finger to her lips.
“It’s just us, but don’t wake my papi. He worked late.”
I agreed in silence with a nod. Alejandro was a good man who deserved his sleep for all the late nights he worked to pay for their needs, one of them being Erica’s cheerleading dreams. It wasn’t easy being on the Ghouls, especially as the captain.
Every extra camp, class, and uniform wasn’t always covered by the school or fundraisers.
I was careful with my boots. They were covered in all sorts of things. I didn’t want Camila getting upset with the state of her welcoming home. She always treated me like her daughter, a mother I desperately needed. Mine was too clouded by generational trauma to give a true shit about me.
We reached her bedroom without any issues. She pulled me inside and locked the door behind her.
I still couldn’t feel the strength to move my limbs. They felt heavier, between the soaked clothing I wore and the stickiness of blood and sludge. Thankfully, Erica took quick notice and dragged my leather jacket down my shoulders once we reached her private bathroom.
I turned my head and winced at the sight of myself.
No wonder Erica had such deep apprehension when she saw me.
Even the best zombies on television didn’t compare to the state of me.
My eyes had black rings from my makeup and overall exhaustion.
My hair was tossed in every direction, soaked with blood, dark globs of mud laced through.
Some of my clothes were torn, stained, and multiple bruises were starting to form from every time I fell dragging his body.
“I . . . ” I tried to speak, the warmth of the Kane home making my freezing skin turn pink. It tingled, much like the rest of my numb body.
“Shut up.” Erica grabbed a washcloth and turned on the hot water. She swiped it down my cheek and rung it out in the sink with each swipe. “I . . . I can’t know. You can’t put this on me with Bruno here so often now. If I know what you did?—”
“I didn’t kill him,” I interrupted. “Erica, I buried him. They would have fed him to those damn pigs or put him on the tracks and . . . and he didn’t deserve to . . . to die.”
Erica didn’t meet my eyes. She scrubbed at the dried blood on my cheek before groaning in frustration and tossing it aggressively into the steaming water.
I didn’t comment about how boiling the cloth was.
I knew she was aware, and it was her silent way of punishing me for even taking part in this.
She’d always hated me, at least a little bit, for being born into this mob.
“I didn’t kill him,” I repeated, as if I needed to remind myself I wasn’t a killer. Not yet. “I didn’t kill him. I didn’t. I-I?—”
Erica leaned into the sink and turned off the water. “I know. You’re no killer, Ellie.”
I closed my eyes and fought off a wave of nausea.
She hadn’t called me that since we were freshman.
It was a cute nickname to her, and I jokingly called her Eric for the fun of it.
Eric and Ellie. Look where we were now. The same girls who dressed up as Prince Naveen and Jack Sparrow as little kids were standing here in the bathroom, wishing our lives were different, wishing we both weren’t so involved with the people destroying Indiana—destroying our fucking lives.
“You need to shower.” Erica moved to the glass door and climbed inside, pressing herself to the side as she adjusted the water and moved a few of her soaps out of the way.
“Don’t even think about touching my hair mask, or I will fuck you up.
I am so serious. You’re a black-market billionaire. Buy your own after murder spa day.”
I weakly nodded, not having the energy to smile at her attitude.
My hands shook as I unbuttoned my jeans and struggled to roll my shirt off my body.
I winced at the motion, my arm sore from using the shovel to dig a deep enough grave.
Thankfully, Erica gently assisted me, her fingers brushing my cheek as our eyes met.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, closing my eyes as her head leaned against mine. “I’m so sorry for coming here. I put you in too much danger.”
Erica nodded. She agreed with me, but I knew she wasn’t going to risk arguing about it. I wouldn’t change, and she knew Estelle was better off with our odd co-parenting arrangement.
“I worry about you, Q. This has to change.” She gulped loud enough for me to hear.
“I’m sorry,” I repeated.
“Why can’t you just leave?” she asked, tears in her amber eyes. “I could hide you. You could run. You know Bruno would help?—”
“You know I don’t trust Bruno.” I tensed at the thought. “He killed my?—”
“Don’t.” Erica yanked my shirt the rest of the way off my body. She dropped it to the floor and unhooked my bra for me, allowing it to sag loosely, waiting for me to make the last tug in removing it. “You can’t keep doing this. You could run. I would help you. What about Estelle?”
“I’ll lose her if I don’t commit.” My head hung. “I don’t have a choice. This is my only way to get her back. I never wanted to hurt anyone.”
“You always have a choice, dumbass.” Erica scoffed. “Come on. You can’t seriously think this is the only way! Hiding bodies for your father? Showing up at my door at three in the morning, knowing how risky that is for us both?”
“She’s not in my custody. If I want her back, I have to complete my assignment,” I snapped, shoving Erica’s hand away from my arm. I avoided her gaze when she frowned. “I . . . I have to complete some things so I can protect her. You won’t understand it.”
“Your assignment?” Erica chewed on her lip. “When did this assignment start? When you started acting all weird and distant again? When you ghosted us half the summer?”
“Erica . . .”
“Or was it when the Dawsons moved in?” Erica narrowed her eyes at my silence. I swallowed and lifted my eyes to hers. “I know you know he’s a cop. You can play house with the new girl, but your charms won’t work on me. What is your assignment?”
“I—” I paused. “I’m only?—"
She released a laugh of disbelief when I hesitated to defend myself. Erica took a step back and waited for me to say something, anything at all. When I didn’t speak, she raked her fingers through her hair and spat out another dreadful laugh.
“Eleanor, I swear to God, I will shove that soap bar so far up your ass, bubbles come out your nose.”
“I shouldn’t talk about this with you,” I muttered, tugging the rest of my clothing off. “Let me shower and?—”
Erica side stepped and cut me off from entering the glass doors, her hand slamming against the wall near my shoulder. Her pointer finger quivered in my face, a sharp nail threatening to dig at my eyes. Slowly, she dropped it to her side and stepped back.
“I hope you have a big enough heart not to hurt a girl who has already been through hell and back,” she hissed quietly, slowly shaking her head. “Quinntessa is not like us. I know you see that. I need you to understand that when I tell you no, I do mean no.”
“Erica—”
“I cannot believe I’m saying this, but she’s off limits, Q. I get two at a time. You can have Christian, and I will back off.”
“I never wanted Christian.” I gawked at her, something stirring in the pit of my stomach. “You want Quinntessa?”
Erica’s eyes widened in seconds. She curled back her fist and punched me in the shoulder.
“Not like that! I just . . . I don’t . . . You can’t hurt her! Alright?” Erica swallowed. “I want the same rules as Olivia.”
This made me stare dumbly at her.
“The same rules . . .”
“You know what I mean. Off limits, Battles. Deadass,” Erica snapped, the shower steam behind her making my friend comparable to a beautiful devil.
We made a deal a while ago, me and the girls. It was a thing our trio did going into high school so we’d never go after each other’s crushes. We agreed we didn’t want to be like those friend groups in movies who killed over the same boy.
It took me four years to realize that was not an issue.
“Look me in the eyes and tell me it’s a huge coincidence the FBI rolls into town and suddenly, you’re gunning for their daughter.”
“Maybe she’s got a nice ass and I want something to take my stress away.” I shrugged, ignoring how shitty that sounded. “You sleep with Christian on the regular. You don’t get to judge me.”
Erica narrowed her eyes. “Is that it? You want to sleep with her?”
“That’s it,” I lied.
Truth was, though I had considered it, it was pretty obvious Quinntessa was either secretly in the closet or a virgin who couldn’t swear. And considering she played football and never cursed in front of me, it was hard to tell the difference, if there even was a difference.
Perhaps, Pepto Bismol was an under socialized queer football player that needed to get laid.
“We shouldn’t talk about this,” I echoed her words from earlier. “I can’t talk about this with you.”
Erica pursed her lips tight, knowing I was right.
I waited for her to say something, but she never spoke up after that.
Instead, she stormed off around me out of the bathroom and left me to stare at my bloody reflection.
Her bedroom door closed. She must have gone to clean up my mess in the hallway.
She was a good friend, though I wished she wasn’t so attached to the fed’s na?ve kid.