Chapter 27 Indie
Indie
No Time To Die - Billie Eilish
Age Twenty-Two
I’ve tried to call Saint three times, but the number just goes straight to voicemail.
I went round to his apartment this morning after staying with Regina and Jenna, but there was no answer.
Then I drove by his dad’s house on the way back, and the gates were closed.
It was unusual, as they’re always open during the day, but he could be away working.
Someone might think I’m a creepy-ass stalker, but I don’t care.
I need to see him.
Set things right.
It’s selfish of me to assume he’ll have waited for me—despite him saying he would.
But the really selfish and desperate part of me hopes that he did.
That our love would know no bounds, and time would be irrelevant.
I don’t know what I’ll do if he’s moved on, but if he has, I need to respect it.
I asked for this, thinking it would help me work on myself, and in a way it did.
Because in the back of my mind, it was always him.
Knowing that when we finally spoke, I would stand there as the girl he fell in love with, who found her strength again, who wasn’t defined by the cruel actions of another human being.
She might be a little bit scarred, seeing the world as more grey, but as close to me as I could be.
My feet squeak on the wooden floor, echoing all the way down the corridor as I approach his apartment door for the second time today.
I knock a few times, my heart thundering in my chest as I wait to hear his footsteps reaching the door, ears pricked back, anticipating it.
But nothing comes.
All that greets me is a deathly, hollow silence.
It’s been eight hours since I was here, and I peer down through his letterbox, lifting the metal flap to look inside.
The place is in darkness; the air inside it feels chilled, like it’s been undisturbed for a while.
“Saint?” I call, dropping the flap and knocking again. A voice sounds beside me, and I jump out of my skin.
“He’s left,” the man says, leaning against his door with a plate and washcloth in hand.
My eyes narrow on the older man, looking from him to Saint’s door.
“What do you mean?”
“Left last night. He’s been packing up for a couple weeks.”
Static fills my ears, and panic courses through my entire body.
“Did he say where he was going?” My voice pitches up a level, and my chest rises and falls with the shallow breaths I’m trying to manage.
The old man shakes his head. “Just said he was going to work with his dad.”
My heart slams to the pit of my stomach like a solid rock.
I don’t even acknowledge the man’s calls as I rush through the corridor, not bothering to take the elevator as I slam down the stairwell, tears watering my lashes as I run into the freezing night air.
Rain batters off the ground, and my clothes stick to my body as my feet clatter against the concrete, rushing to my car.
He couldn’t have left; he would have told me.
Saint wouldn’t have just got up and left without a word. Not even if he had moved on. He would have let me know.
He would know I was going to come back for him.
He had to.
He said he’d wait.
Raindrops splatter across my windshield, oncoming lights blurring white and red as I race through the roads, made worse through the tears welling in my eyes.
My fingers slam against my dash, tapping his number on the screen to call, and it goes straight to voicemail.
“Saint, it’s Indie. Please, please call me when you get this,” I sob through the message, my heart cracking worse than the day I let him walk away from me.
How stupid could I have been? Why did I let him go?
He was the best thing that ever happened to me, and I threw it all away. Letting those fucks do exactly what I said I wouldn’t allow them to.
He probably thought I didn’t love him; I never said it back.
I’ve regretted it every day since, but I love him so much that the word doesn’t feel like it does it justice. I’ve broken his heart, and he’s had to leave.
Bile rises in my throat at the thought.
My ringtone blaring through the car startles me, and I pull my car into the side of the road. I shouldn’t be driving this hysterical.
“Saint?”
“Indie?” Regina comes through my speakers, and disappointment shamefully floods through me.
“Sorry, Gina. Are you okay?” I ask, trying to level out my voice.
“Are you? Are you crying?”
I force a swallow, clearing my throat. “Sorry, I was trying to find Saint. He’s left town, and I can’t reach him.”
How the hell am I going to find him?
This is what I get for doing this to him. It’s my karma, and something deep inside me tells me that I’ve lost him forever.
“We’ll help you find him, I promise. But…I just got a weird phone call from Jenna, like really weird,” she says, and I start up the car again, wiping away tears with the heels of my palms.
“Are you still at home? I can be with you in ten minutes. We can go check it out.”
I ease the car back onto the road and head towards Regina’s.
We decided to stay the night at Regina’s after the run-in with the twins and their dad outside the station. I haven’t even been home yet, avoiding my mom’s watchful eye.
I’m sure every person in town has heard about it by now.
Regina pulled an all-nighter to try to get into the feeds, but whatever protection they have around them, it’s robust.
“I’ll watch for you.” She hangs up, and I hit the gas.
By the time I’m pulling into her parents’ house, the storm is in full swing. There’s a wind that’s sending the rain sideways, and Regina gets as soaked as I am when she gets in the car.
“Tell me what happened?” I ask her, making the twenty-minute journey to Jenna’s house.
She pulls her hair back into a ponytail.
“It was weird, Indie. It was completely silent. I thought she was pulling one of her stupid pranks again, told her to fucking quit it as I was getting freaked out. Then I thought she had dialled me in her sleep, seeing as she kept getting up to see how we were doing. It was like she was breathing down the phone, almost gurgling.”
I look over at her, and her eyes are tight, worry etched around the crinkles.
“I’m sure it’ll be fine. We’re almost there,” I say, speeding up for the second time tonight on treacherous roads.
When we pull into the long driveway, I immediately get chills, and it’s nothing to do with the weather.
Jenna’s house is in darkness; her parents’ car isn’t in its spot, only hers.
“Do you think we should call the police?” she whispers, and I let out a long breath.
I’ve lost faith in our justice department as it stands. I’m not hopeful they’ll ever be able to redeem themselves.
“Call her back; she could just be napping like you said,” I answer as we step out of the car.
Rain crashes off of the surrounding forestry as it fills the air, leaves shivering in the wind so loud, I can barely hear myself running through the gravel driveway.
It thumps off the roof of the porch like thunder, and I’m completely drenched again as I wait for Regina to catch up.
“Did she answer?” I shout through the rain, pushing my soaked hair back from my forehead.
She can’t hear me, but her phone is pressed to her ear under her hood as she walks towards me. I turn towards the front door, taken aback that it’s lying slightly open.
Forcing down a swallow, I tuck my hand into my sleeve, gently nudging it further; every centimetre it creaks wider has the blood draining from my body.
My eyes blink rapidly as I inch back, the stench of metallic threatening to suffocate me.
“She’s not—” Regina’s words get lodged in her throat.
Just as the call cuts on her phone, so does the screen that goes black next to the body.
My legs tremble, the joints feel weak, and terror grows like vines through my chest.
“Indie—”
“Call the cops,” I gasp, “right now.”
My hand grips with hers, hard, dragging us away from the bloodbath scene before us.
Jenna’s still in her clothes from when I saw her this morning, her body sprawled out in the hallway, a pool of thick scarlet circling around her.
Enough blood to make clear that she’s dead.
It’s stained all over the bleached hardwood, splattered over the once white walls, and there’s handprints covering the stairs from a struggle.
I lock the car doors as soon as we’re back inside, checking the backseat to make sure no one slipped inside.
Regina’s eyes are bulged, moving on autopilot as she calls emergency services.
When the call ends, the phone slips out of her grip. She stares out into the night, eyes looking as detached as I feel.
“She’s dead,” she whispers, and my skin tingles all over.
Her words send a splinter straight through my chest. I don’t want to believe it. Want to erase those words ever leaving her lips.
But what I saw back there, I can’t even find my voice to soothe it with a lie.
My gaze travels across the house, blurring with the rain that rolls down the windshield. My heart is beating so fast, I’m scared I might have a heart attack.
My bones vibrate, the coldness inside me mixing with the dampness of my clothes.
She would have been so fucking scared.
Alone.
We weren’t there to protect her.
The thoughts send hot tears rolling down my cheeks.
Who would take her from us in such an evil way?
I should go back in there, check to make sure.
The minute I try to open the door, Regina reaches for my hand. She softly shakes her head, and I instantly pull her to me, both of us sobbing and wrenching as we hold each other.
A piece of us—the third of us that made up our friendship—gone forever.
We’ve been inseparable since we were five years old. There wasn’t a day gone by when we didn’t speak.
We were soul sisters, had a bond that would withstand the tests of time. Nothing could break it.
Jenna saved us both that night, tried to fight for us when those who should, wouldn’t listen, and now she’s been ripped away from us.
Both of us scream as our phones chime loudly, breaking through the lull of our heartbroken silence.
I nervously glance at her as we pull apart, not aware of how long we held each other, but the house before us that formed part of our childhood memories pulses with distant red and blue lights.
My screen is blurry through the tears and puffiness of my eyes, and I aggressively swipe the wetness from my eyes.
The messages flashes up, and my breath lodges itself in my windpipe.
Unknown: Lesson learned.