Chapter 17 Reverie #2
“Since when do you defend her?” Then, she points to me accusingly. “You know who she is! That fucking D’Amour blood runs through her veins. The Locksmith or the copycat aren’t all the way here in fucking Colorado, so who else would it be?”
She turns her stare back to me, as if she’s genuinely expecting me to answer.
My chest feels as if it's beginning to bruise from how hard it pounds, adrenaline overloading my system, but I work to keep myself relatively calm. Any type of big emotion will validate her and make everyone think I’m as violent as she claims me to be.
But beneath it all, I’m panicking and would really like to vomit. The cafeteria is still silent and focused on the three of us. A cold sweat blooms across the entirety of my body beneath their scrutiny, and it only exacerbates my nausea.
“I’m really sorry about your friend, but I had nothing to do with it,” I say calmly, injecting every bit of sincerity into my voice as I can. “I’m not sure why you would even think I did?”
She scoffs out a humorless laugh and, for a third time, taps at her phone screen to pull something else up. Then, she’s turning it toward Dread and me.
“Look at his fucking name.”
My brows knit as I lean closer to look at a dating profile, a different image of the model as the profile picture. Written below in bold, black letters is: Charlie Love.
An obvious variation of my birth name.
My blood runs cold, though I work hard not to react outwardly. Internally, my organs are withering away from anxiety.
“Go ahead. Read his bio,” she urges, venom dripping from her tone.
I bristle, bothered by her attitude yet starting to understand why she’s convinced I was involved as I skim over the words.
Name: Charlie Love
Age: 22
Occupation: Car salesman
Interests: Horror movies, Hunting, Collecting
If there was a drop of blood left in my face, it’s gone. I pull back and straighten, repeatedly swallowing in a desperate attempt not to spew vomit all over the table.
Dread, however, releases a bark of laughter, startling the girl. She looks at him like he grew another head.
“You can’t be fucking serious. You think she would be that obvious and stupid?”
She recoils, blinking at him in shock.
“I mean, use your head for a second here,” he continues. “She would have to be the dumbest serial killer alive to create a dating profile with basically her own name and curate it to look like a serial killer. And using her father’s old job? Obviously, someone is framing her.”
Now the girl’s face flushes red, but with embarrassment.
“Maybe that’s what she wants,” she argues, clearly floundering. “To make it so obvious, no one suspects her.”
Dread settles a dry look on her. “She has a solid alibi two days ago.” He ticks off his fingers as he speaks. “Class. Work. Me.”
My eyes fly over to him, shocked. Two days ago, Dread crashed my forensics class and then disappeared, and I definitely didn’t see him until the next night when he kidnapped me. I went to work and then went home and crashed. So why the fuck is he lying for me?
The girl’s mouth flops for several moments, and then she works to swallow and takes a step back, glancing back and forth between the two of us, as if she isn’t sure what to make of Dread’s response.
Her chin trembles, and then she whips around and storms off without another word.
I deflate, but the tension doesn’t release from my muscles, even as Dread and I sit back down. I’m on edge, and slowly but surely, everyone goes back to their own conversations, though I’m sure there’s only one topic at hand.
For several long moments, I war with my body not to descend further into panic. I’m fully prepared to bolt, and truthfully, all I need is someone to cough or fart, and I’m fucking out of here.
My father has to be behind this, and that kind of makes me want to die.
I clear my throat, and quietly ask, “Why did you lie?”
He goes back to eating his cheese pizza.
“Because I know it wasn’t you,” he answers simply.
I wait for him to give any further explanation.
He doesn’t.
“But you think it could be Lionel,” I guess.
He looks up at me from his food, his eyes frosted.
“Or the copycat, if they’re working together.”
I close my eyes, trying really hard not to fucking cry.
“Or someone else who’s just as sick and wants to frame you.”
I’m definitely going to cry.
“Frame her for what?”
The sudden sound of a male voice behind me has me jumping out of my skin once again. I startle, and this time, a squeak makes it through my throat. I glimpse Severen sauntering up to our table, his lunch and a romance novel in hand, then cover my eyes with both hands, attempting to gather myself.
For several seconds, I just try to breathe and calm my abused heart. I drop my hands just as he takes a seat next to Dread while a beautiful woman with fiery red hair sits beside me. I vaguely recognize her but can’t place her name.
Adrenaline pumps through my veins as I stare at them, very uncomfortable by their presence.
Mainly because Severen and Rogue are my secondary bullies, going along with whatever diabolical plan Dread cooked up.
They’ve just as easily become objects of my hatred, and even more so now, I feel like I’m sitting in a den of wolves that haven’t eaten for days.
This day is getting worse and worse, my nerves are fucking fried, and I just want to go fucking home.
“Frame her for what?” Severen repeats.
“A girl has gone missing, and someone created a dating profile to make it look like Rev,” Dread answers casually, his tone bored.
Severen’s eyes jump up his forehead, and the girl beside me gasps.
They go on to ask questions about what just transpired, but I tune it all out, too focused on Severen’s body language. I’m on high alert, and truthfully, I’m wondering if that girl was just acting, they’re pretending to be none the wiser, and this is all another prank.
The more I settle with that idea, the more it makes more sense, and it needles beneath my skin, poking at my nerves. Now, the adrenaline is morphing from fright to anger.
“Reverie, relax,” Dread assures lightly, bringing me out of my spiraling thoughts.
I’m slow to pull my suspicious stare away from Severen, who returns it with one of amusement. When I land on frosted blue eyes, they don’t look quite as apathetic as they did before.
“Jesus, why the hell is she acting so scared of you two?” the woman pipes up, sounding both cautious and unimpressed.
I don’t exactly appreciate her calling me scared, but her comment does make me aware of how my shoulders have hiked to my ears, how my bones are solid steel. I’m leaning away from them, seconds from getting up and running.
I’ve never cowered from any of them, but something about this particular situation feels more disconcerting than when their pranks are more obvious.
They’ve never pretended they’re not fucking with me, so sitting at a table with them, acting like civilized humans?
This is uncharted territory, and I don’t fucking like it.
However, I decide not to accuse them of fucking with me yet, just in case that girl really did go missing. But I refuse to let my guard down, either. It feels like they’re trying to lull me into a sense of safety, only to pull out the rug from beneath me when I least expect it.
I don’t trust any of them, and if they think I’m going to sit beside them and not be on high alert, then they’re fucking oblivious to how well they’ve trained me.
“Should we leave?” Severen asks slowly, hesitantly glancing between Dread and me.
“No.”
“Yes.”
Mine and Dread’s answers come at once, but there’s no question who Severen is going to listen to.
Dread cracks open a Gatorade, his movements still casual and unconcerned. “No, you shouldn’t. My girlfriend will have to get used to you guys, eventually. Right, babe?”
My face twists in disgust. Babe?
Absolutely the fuck not.
“First off, disgusting,” I say. “Second, I’m not your girlfriend. And finally, I don’t have to get used to anyone, including your asshole friends.”
Severen whistles, his amusement returning tenfold. He directs his glimmering stare toward Dread, a delighted grin curling his lips.
“Girlfriend? The fuck did I miss?”
“Nothing different from his usual bullshit,” I interject, drawing Severen’s focus. “Another day, another cruel game.”
“Tell him who’s out of prison, babe,” he quips, now scrolling on his phone, still completely nonchalant.
I glower at him while he dutifully ignores me, taking another sip of Gatorade while he scrolls.
Severen’s stare burns into my face, and with an annoyed sigh, I turn to him.
“Lionel is out of prison and wants to see me. We're not on good terms, and I don't want him anywhere near me, and the why for that is none of your fucking business. Regardless, Dread is now using me to get to Lionel, probably so he can murder him.” I don’t bother keeping my voice down. If Dread succeeds and goes to prison for it, then they’re both out of my life, and I can live freely.
“Interesting,” Severen murmurs, turning his attention back to his friend. He’s less amused and more intrigued now.
Finally, Dread sets his phone down and slides it toward Severen, a news article on the screen for him to read. From my angle, I can only make out a few bold words in the headline: Lionel D’Amour, wrongfully convicted, released, and that’s all I need to see.
Over twelve years have passed, but not a damn thing has changed.
Severen ducks his head closer and reads through the article while Dread picks up his fifth slice of pizza. I stew, glaring at my half-eaten baked ziti. The last twenty-four hours have completely decimated my appetite.
“I’m Octavia, by the way,” a feminine voice whispers from beside me, drawing my attention to the redhead.