Chapter 7 Riven
Riven
Sabel threw me for a loop during that meeting.
It wasn’t a surprise to her that I murdered Gideon Keenan.
After all, it is the main reason I’m trapped in this bullshit social experiment.
It wasn’t even a surprise to her that he was the father of Sloane.
What surprised Sabel was the fact that Sloane was at the concert, and it drew my attention to something else that might be going on.
What if the reason Sloane was there wasn’t an investigation of our music or the frequency persuasion, but of her father?
I hadn’t considered this angle, and I’m mentally beating the shit out of myself for it.
How fucking stupid of me, considering she’s an investigative journalist. Last I checked, Sloane wasn’t even close to her father.
I hoped that some small part of her was glad he was out of her and her mother’s lives.
Could I be wrong? Sloane may not even be aware of all the horrible things her father has done.
I’m sitting in the back of the Sprinter, headed back to my place, when I get a text from Cal.
Cal: Got him. Meet at my place…sooner than later.
Riven: Got it. Headed home. Be there in 10.
My house is located outside Hollowcrest, away from the noise and prying eyes.
It’s tucked deep into the forest, just how I like it.
I don’t have neighbors, street signs, or hardly any cell service.
I like that, too. The car makes it up the gravel path that’s hardly visible if you don’t already know it’s there.
We snake around the last bend of trees before my house comes into view.
The house features matte black wood siding.
The tall, narrow windows adorning it resemble the slits in a cathedral.
The large redwoods of the forest around it crowd in closely, as if anchoring it to this place.
Caleb parks the car, and I hurriedly hop out.
“Gotta go, man. Thanks,” I say, jogging toward my black garage off to the side of the house.
I press the automatic button as the door slides open, ducking below it to get inside quicker.
I open up the door to my ‘67 raven black GT, climb in, and start the ignition. No telling what condition Kai is in, so I can’t waste any time.
I back out and down the gravel road, and then floor it once I reach the main road.
I weave through the back roads with ease, while “Sleepwalking” by Bring Me The Horizon blasts on the stereo.
I make it to Callum’s house in exactly six minutes.
I hop out and walk straight through the front door without knocking.
“Where is he?” I yell out, almost running right into Callum.
“Whoa, Riv.” He pauses, righting himself. “Come on, he’s in the room.” I follow behind him. When I walk into Cal’s spare bedroom, I see Kai lying across the top of the midnight blue duvet, looking like death incarnate.
“Jesus fuck, Malakai,” I spit out, moving directly to his side. “What the fuck did you take?”
His red-rimmed, light blue eyes flutter open for a second, and he moans.
He grabs his stomach, rolling over and vomiting right off the side of the king-size bed onto Callum’s pretty white carpet.
Yuck. I audibly gag. Give me all the blood and guts, but do not vomit in my presence.
That shit is nasty. I shake it off, looking away.
“Have fun cleaning that up.” I wince, running a hand down my face.
“Kai, man, what did you take?” I ask again sternly. He doesn’t answer. Instead, he sits up and immediately falls back against the bed, unconscious.
“Fuck!” I leave the room to grab the Narcan bag.
We invested in one after Kai’s first overdose a couple of years back.
Until today, we haven’t had to use any of it, so I know it’s fully stocked.
I grab the bag and head back in, pulling out a nasal syringe preloaded with the appropriate dosage, and head over to Kai.
“Sorry, buddy. This isn’t going to be fun,” I say, as I shove it straight into his left nostril and push the plunger in. He immediately wakes up, groaning, confirming my suspicions of an opioid on board. Like I said, it’s not our first rodeo.
“What the fuck were you thinking, Malakai?!” I ask, shaking his shoulders a little too violently for the condition that he’s in.
“Come on, Riv, take a beat.” I hear Cal’s voice, and then I feel his hands on me as he’s pulling me off of Kai and shoving me out of the room.
I place my face in my hands and try my best not to scream.
It’s been two years since Kai’s first overdose.
Two fucking years. I thought he was better.
I thought he found a way to work through things that didn’t involve him ending up in a fucking body bag.
What did I miss? Something has to be going on that I didn’t see, and that makes me even angrier because now I’m blaming myself.
I’m their leader. I should have seen the signs.
“Don’t do that. Don’t blame yourself, Riven. This is not your fault,” Cal says, reading my thoughts. “You know Kai has his own problems. Let’s get him through this, and then we’ll figure it out.”
My hair falls over my eyes as I sit on a bench seat in the hallway, staring down at the dark mahogany wood flooring.
I don’t engage in Cal’s attempt at a heart-to-heart.
Cal is usually stone-cold and has little to offer in these types of situations.
Having to talk to him about emotions might do me in.
Cal knows as much, which is why he places a comforting hand on my back for only a few seconds, and then proceeds to leave and check in on Kai.
? ? ?
Kai’s now asleep. He became more alert and vomited a couple more times, but is otherwise alive.
Cal and I discussed how we should approach his relapse and ultimately decided that we’re going to tackle this together.
Kai doesn’t need to be holed up in a rehab facility with a bunch of other addicts, isolated from his friends.
He’s been there before, and it wasn’t for him.
He agreed to see a therapist and promised to talk to us if things get this bad again.
We all agreed to keep a closer eye on Kai.
I made a promise to myself to always check in with him, even if he puts on his usual happy-go-lucky facade to fool all of us.
I stayed a couple of hours longer to make sure that Kai remained alive and then headed back home.
Once I was home, I shot a quick text to Raithe.
Riven: Going home tonight? Should I send a search party?
Raithe: Busy. (; Don’t wait up.
That means Raithe met up with the girl he was rambling about after the show.
I laugh, wondering how the fuck we’re related.
After getting back home, I took a quick shower and jumped in bed, exhausted but restless.
I spent that night tossing and turning until sleep claimed me, momentarily dreaming of heroin needles, screaming fans with smiles that were unnaturally wide, and a pretty redhead with my hand around her throat.
? ? ?
Somehow, Monday is already here. I spent all day Sunday checking in on Kai and lining up things for his therapy sessions.
He wasn’t super happy about the idea but agreed to it for me, Cal, and Raithe.
Kai’s not broken, just buried. He’s another one who won’t allow me to psychoanalyze him.
Last night might have been a fucking nightmare, but I believe in Kai.
I have to. I know he’ll dig his way out of this, and we’ll be here to help him along the way.
I’m in the gym now, finishing up a boxing match.
It’s the easiest way for me to let out my frustration and anger without pulling out a knife and stabbing someone to death.
I’m making my way over to the locker room when I hear my phone ring.
I don’t recognize the number, but I press accept and put it to my ear.
“Hello?” I say.
“Hi. Is this Mr. Reilly?” shoots out a melodious, but slightly raspy, female voice. I stop walking and pause, barely breathing.
The last time that I heard that voice was when I was pressed up against the woman to whom it belongs.