Chapter 27
“I WISH I DIDN’T LOVE YOU SO” BY DINAH SHORE
Three years ago, beside the train tracks that ran close to Murdafest, rested a pure white cross surrounded by flowers, stuffed animals, and an assortment of gifts. I had come out here multiple times a week, then once, then once a month, then once every six.
Today, after over a year, I stood on the train tracks where the memorial cross for Leonardo Morley was staked into the ground.
Three flowers laid nearby, glow in the dark stones around it to light the way if he were to visit while Mrs. Morley was asleep, his father’s watch so Leo could always tell what time it was.
Aside from that, a single envelope laid in the stones with Leo written in Sharpie, crinkled at a corner where rocks held it still from the wind’s cursing strength.
He didn’t die here. At least, I didn’t believe that. Leo didn’t commit suicide. That was what I told myself. I told myself he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, that someone from Chicago chose him as the best target.
I told myself it was my fault for not protecting him from the mob, not protecting him from himself.
If he had killed himself, that would mean I missed something.
I missed something, and he died. I guessed, either way, I missed something, because here was his memorial at the same crossing where three other boys had been killed by a train.
No girl had died, not yet.
I exhaled and stared up at the sky as rocks dug into my back.
The wood and metal from each track uncomfortably stabbed at my spine.
Music played softly from my headphones. They connected to my Walkman.
It was the only thing that would let me listen to my favorite cassettes with the same comforting feel they gave me as a child.
My thoughts were louder than a few cassette tracks at full volume. Walkmans didn’t have the ability to blow my ear drums like I wished they would.
Dinah Shore’s “I Wish I Didn’t Love You So” was the soundtrack of the sky. The clouds floated slowly over me, and birds flew toward the ground, watching me curiously as I laid completely still on the train tracks. The rocks poked at my back, and the gun in my hand made my palm sweaty.
My eyes were red before I started smoking. The weed didn’t help. I considered drinking this throb in my chest away, but it would be pointless now. I was already here.
I believed in reincarnation. I’d already decided if I were to become an animal after this, I’d wish to be a dog. It was basic, but everyone loved a dog. Even on days I hated Lukas, he somehow wiggled his butt back onto my good side.
I wouldn’t want to be a Doberman, though. I wanted to be a golden retriever, a dog that couldn’t do wrong in the eyes of their owners, a gold star breed that had the chance to make someone happy and in return be loved until I was gray and smelled my own body decaying away.
Losing every memory I had would be a blessing. I could start over without the guilt of being a bad friend and a worse mother. I could live another childhood that didn’t involve watching my father torture people from the lofts behind the hay bales. I might even fall in love.
I was scared to close my eyes. Last night, I dreamed of her.
With my arms around Estelle with Lukas at my feet, and I still dreamed of the gold flecks in her eyes.
Her laughter sang in my dreams, the softness of her hair and how it would feel tangled around my fingers as I kissed her soft, glossy lips.
When I smiled, glitter stuck to my face, and I felt proud of that.
In my dream, she looked at me with pride, like she believed in me.
Sometimes, I tricked myself into believing she was looking at me like that during school.
My fingers rolled around the sleek handle of the gun. If I laid here long enough, I wouldn’t have to use it. I could wait for the train and die to the soundtrack of Frank Sinatra singing “Stella By Starlight.” If the train took too long, I might make it to “My Way.”
“My Way” would be a good song to go to. It was a statement. An ode to my life and all I loved. The Coven Chronicles would have a field day. I could see it now.
Dr. Battles’ Daughter Struck By Train!
They wouldn’t say my name until it was in the small print.
I wasn’t that important. He was important.
Him. The authority. The captain. The one who could slice a throat without grimacing at the waterfall of blood.
How did he get this way? Did something make him snap?
Did he ever love my mother? Me? Anastasia?
I had so many questions that would go without answers.
It would all be pointless if I made it to the other side. Hell had to be better than here.
Frank Sinatra’s smooth voice drifted me out of focus. I took a deep breath when I thought I heard an engine distantly behind the music, closing my eyes.
What I thought was an approaching train turned into my worst nightmare. My eyes snapped open as someone yanked my headphones from my ears and glared up at a familiar set of dark eyes.
“Are you following me?” I spat, sitting up in seconds.
Milo rolled his eyes as he stepped back and hovered near the tracks, his hands stuffed in his jacket pockets.
I stood and rolled my fingers around the handle of my gun, eyeing him skeptically.
“I asked you a question.” I raised my brows.
Milo copied my action, obviously unimpressed. He ran his fingers through his dark hair and shrugged.
“No,” he replied.
“Then why are you here?” I asked.
“I was driving to meet Maxim.” He glanced toward the cross beside me and looked away quickly. “Saw you in the tracks.”
I slowly turned my head and stared down the railroad tracks, secretly glancing at Leo’s cross again. When I turned back to him, his eyes were hovering on it like mine were an hour ago.
“He was a friend of mine. He died here.” I pursed my lips when Milo met my eyes.
“I know,” he replied shortly.
Well, I wouldn’t get my questions answered easily from him. It was the tighter-lipped Vincent brother.
“How do you know?” I asked, raising my brows. “Were you two . . . friends?”
“No.” Milo’s dark eyes hovered on me before he turned and climbed back over the train tracks. “I have a job to finish. I suggest you finish yours.”
“Right. Kill the cute girl,” I muttered, wincing when Milo stopped walking. “Sorry. I’m a little out of it.”
He looked over his shoulder, letting his dark eyes meet mine. Milo opened his body to me and ground his teeth before nodding.
“Get in the truck,” he insisted.
I spared a glance at the newer Ram parked along the railroad crossing. It was gray with mud along the sides.
“I’m not leaving my bike. Nice try.” I scoffed.
“If anyone knows I was here, they’ll think I killed you,” Milo grumbled. “And I don’t need your dad breathing down my neck. I like doing what I want, when I want.”
“What does this have to do with?—”
“Just go back to school. Isn’t she at the track after school?” Milo paused with a roll of his eyes. “Look?—”
I quickly stepped forward, my gun raising to him.
“How the fuck did you know that? Are you the one watching her? Is it you?” I breathed out each question in a single breath, my head pounding in my chest. “I will blow your fucking head off if you touch her.”
Milo’s eyes fearlessly slid to the gun, then to meet my gaze. He shrugged his shoulders and stuffed his hands in his pockets.
“Death is the only thing I want, Harrekson,” he spat. “If you shoot me, you’d be doing me a favor.”
“I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction,” I hissed, my gun still drawn and on target. “How do you know she’s been at the track?”
“Don’t kn?—”
“Vincent, tell me!” I shouted, stepping across the tracks and jamming my gun into his chest. “She’s my kill. Mine. No one touches her but me.”
The corner of Milo’s lip curled then fell, a small second of a smile. His sneakers scuffed on the old pebbles as he turned and walked back toward his truck.
“Watch your back,” he called over his shoulder, not stopping as he walked to his truck. “You’re not the only one keeping an eye on her. I’d hate for you to lose your chance.”
Milo shot me a look as he opened his truck door, as if he wanted me to know something he couldn’t say.
“To kill her,” he added.
The Ram door slammed shut, and I followed his movements as he drove over the tracks and continued down the winding road into the trees.
Once he was out of sight, I raced over to my bike and frantically shoved my Walkman into my satchel. My black helmet was barely on my head before I pushed off and rolled over the tracks in the direction of Coven.
Mustang would be at the track until dark. I planned to wait for her.