2. Cassie
CASSIE
The sound is so loud even though this gun supposedly has a built-in suppressor.
My ears ring in the immediate aftermath, and a shot of adrenaline surges through me, making my limbs feel weak and shaky.
I can hardly hold up the gun. I can hardly hold up myself.
It happened so fast, but Tim looks down at his chest. A deeper shade of red soaks through the material over his heart.
He stumbles back a step, then stumbles again.
His gaze hits mine. A fleeting moment of shock surfaces, and then he falls. I shudder as his big athletic body crashes to the floor. This doesn’t feel the way it’s supposed to.
“What the fuck?”
The voice grates on my fractured nerves. I swing the gun toward it because it didn’t come from Tim.
It came from the hallway, where a carbon copy of him emerged.
Torrance Walters.
His dark eyebrows are hiked up, jaw unhinged as he registers the sight of his twin brother bleeding on the floor, then swings to the girl who accused his brother of rape and tried prosecuting him for it.
The girl who lost.
I’m pointing the gun at him now, unable to think straight, controlled by fear.
“Whoa. Don’t shoot me.” He raises his hands slowly, the universal gesture of surrender.
My vision blurs a bit. I blink to clear it and realize my eyes are leaking. Why am I crying?
“It’s okay,” Tor says, slowly bringing one steadying hand out in front of him. “You’re okay. Let me think.”
His words don’t make sense. Neither does his tone. He should be freaking out. Why isn’t he freaking out?
“Can I have the gun?”
I shake my head.
“No. Okay,” he says, still calmly. He takes a slow step toward me.
“Stay back,” I say, jamming the gun toward him to remind him I have it.
He keeps his hand out like he’s approaching a wild animal he needs to convince not to maul him.
“I’m not going to hurt you, so don’t hurt me, okay?
I just want to take the gun so nobody gets hurt by accident.
Your hands are shaking, and it doesn’t look like you have complete control. We don’t want an accident, right?”
That makes sense, I think, but… I don’t know.
I’m sick to my stomach. My mind feels fractured, but I try to make sense of his words.
He’s right. I don’t want to hurt anybody by accident.
But I’m also afraid to hand over my only way to defend myself in case he’s lying to me.
Seeing my indecision, he keeps talking. “Listen, there’s not a lot of time to figure out what we’re going to do next, okay? We have to work together to figure this out. Did you have a plan?”
“This was my plan.”
“Right. But after pulling the trigger, did you have a plan?”
“No.”
He sighs. It’s a quick sound, then he nods. “Okay. That’s okay. We’ll figure it out.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask, my head finally clear enough to realize he sounds crazy.
“Give me the gun, Cassie. I won’t hurt you, I promise. I’ll give it back if you really want it, but I need to wipe it down before the police get here.”
“What?” I say, blinking at him.
I’m so confused that when he reaches me and gets his hand on the gun, I let him take it.
I know as soon as the weapon has left my hand that I did the wrong thing. I just shot his brother, and now he has my gun—he can grab me, or hell, he could shoot me and claim self-defense. He can get his revenge right now, forgoing the legal process entirely.
I wish I had done that.
Despite the instinctive dread I feel—the purely biological component of self-preservation that can’t be suppressed—I rationalize that it doesn’t really matter if Tor kills me. I died a year ago. If he wants to put down the shell, so be it.
But he doesn’t.
He lowers the gun to his side, his watchful blue eyes locked onto me. “Are you here alone?”
“Yes.”
“Did you drive here?”
I nod.
He mirrors me, nodding too. “Does anybody know you’re here?”
I shake my head before I can consider that I should probably lie.
“Is there any evidence of what you were planning to do tonight at your house?”
That question confuses me. My brow furrows, then I nod. “I left a note.”
His eyes seem to darken, and his brow furrows briefly. He opens his mouth, then decides not to ask whatever he was going to ask. After a couple of seconds, he says, “Anything else?”
“I have a notebook in my room where I wrote about tonight. A lot.”
“What color is it?”
“Green.”
“Where do you keep it?”
“Under my mattress.”
“Is there anything else?” he asks.
“I don’t… think so.”
“Okay.” He turns around, glancing down at his brother. He isn’t moving.
Tor goes back up the steps and disappears down the hall. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I don’t know why I’m still standing here. I should turn around and go back to my car. I should get the hell out of here.
I never made plans for after pulling the trigger, but just because I expect to get caught doesn’t mean I have to do the cops’ job for them and sit here and wait for them to show up.
I should get on the road and get the hell out of here.
I should go see the beach or Times Square.
I should do something before I get locked up for the rest of my life.
Before I get my feet moving again, Tor comes back down the hall. I’m still standing in the same place he left me.
“Come inside. Close the door behind you—no, don’t. I’ll do it.”
I’m still pretty frozen, but I try to step forward. He reaches past me, closing the front door, and pulling me forward a little more.
Since the rape, I haven’t liked being touched. Maybe it’s due to my frayed nerves, but his touch doesn’t bother me right now.
Which is good because he doesn’t let go right away. With one hand still gripping my shoulder, he looks into my eyes. “Are you okay?”
Why is he asking me that? His brother is the one who got shot.
My thoughts still feel fractured, but I realize I don’t even know if Tim’s alive. “Is he…?”
Tor drops his hand and looks back at his brother’s still form. He kneels, careful to keep away from the blood, and feels his neck for a pulse.
His lips press together grimly. He stands and doesn’t say anything. Instead, he looks down at his cell phone. “I have a friend who can sneak into your house and grab those items you left behind. Do you have a hide-a-key or anything to make it easier for him?”
I swallow. “I didn’t… lock the door when I left.”
“Do you have one of those doorbell cameras?”
“Yes, but it had a low battery today, so it’s charging. That’s one of the reasons I picked tonight,” I murmur. I didn’t want my mom to have to watch the video of me leaving the house tomorrow morning.
“Good. That was smart,” he tells me.
“Is he…?” I start to look at Tim’s body, but Tor grabs my bicep and pulls me away before I can.
“Don’t worry about him right now. The police could be on their way already for all we know, so we have to move fast. We don’t have time for you to leave, so we need a different story. Do you know where my bedroom is?”
I nod.
“Okay. I need you to take your clothes off and give them to me. Then go up to my bedroom. Wash your hands very well—scrub them clean before you do anything else. Then let your hair down and mess it up a little, like my fingers have been roaming through it. Find one of my T-shirts hanging up in the closet, doesn’t matter which one, and put it on.
Once you’ve done all that, get in my bed.
Climb under the covers and move around a little bit to get your hair on my pillow and your DNA all over my sheets.
They need to believe we had sex tonight, so get as creative as you want.
I’ll try to find clothes we can say you wore when you came over.
You’ll need to put them on so your DNA gets on those, too. ”
“I… there’s a hoodie in the back seat of my car.”
“Perfect. I’ll grab that. I can snag a pair of my sister’s leggings.
She has a bunch of them, so I’m sure she won’t notice.
When the police arrive, they’ll ask you questions, so I need you to mentally prepare yourself for that.
You didn’t shoot Tim tonight. You came here to see me.
You and I have been fucking for a few weeks, but we didn’t want people to know for obvious reasons.
The first time we ran into each other was at The Angry Lizard.
They don’t have security cameras except on the bar, so this can’t be verified.
I saw you leaving and followed you out to your car.
Asked if we could go somewhere and talk.
We parked in a parking lot—the gravel and mulch place down by the railroad tracks. You know where that is?”
I nod.
“We hooked up there, beside the building where no one could see us. Afterward, you said it couldn’t happen again.
It did, and we’ve been in that cycle ever since.
Tonight, you snuck over for another hookup, and we fell asleep in my bed.
We both woke up when we heard a loud noise downstairs.
I woke up first, and you were in bed next to me.
I came downstairs to investigate the noise, and you stayed in my room.
I found my brother bleeding out on the floor, the front door wide open.
I closed it in case the attacker was still out there, and then I called 911.
You didn’t see anything because you were in my bedroom the entire time—and you were asleep, so you didn’t hear anything before the loud noise that woke us up.
You’d help if you knew anything, but since you don’t, your priority is protecting yourself.
Get this story in your head, but don’t answer any of their questions.
Because of the circumstances, you’re going to be the obvious suspect, so you tell them you won’t say anything until you’ve spoken to your lawyer. ”
“My lawyer,” I say, my head beginning to spin.
“No, your lawyer’s a useless piece of shit. I’ll call our lawyer.” He nods at my body. “Take your clothes off and give them to me.”
“Now? Here?”
“Yes. Come on, make it quick.”
My mouth is so dry. I try to swallow, but it’s like a desert. “Can I have a bottle of water?”