2 years, 6 months, 17 days ago
MY EYES LOCKED IN A dead hold with my father. One whole hour. That’s all it took. “Are you coming down for dinner, Wyatt?”
Simple, harmless words, but laced with years of issues. Sometimes I wished he would just hit me. Break my nose. Knock out a few teeth. People had a way of understanding violence. It’s easy to explain: my dad beats the shit out of me.
But our disagreements were different. Oil and water and gasoline and fire. Words and resentment and control. That’s what it always came down to with him. He wanted me to say and do everything just like those he commanded at work.
I crossed my arms over my chest without saying a word. We held our spots, each of us frozen in our attempt to take a stand. My father expected me to follow him down the stairs like a puppy. But I wasn’t coming until I damn well felt like it.
My phone buzzed as Trevor Higgins sent another obnoxious text. Looking at the screen, I cringed at the words, describing my high school ex-girlfriend.
“Melissa Cox is here. I think her tits got bigger.”
My fingers gripped around the phone before tossing it on the bed. Taking another look up at my father, his jaw clenched in a tight hold. He knew who had sent the message without even reading it.
“I’ll be down in a minute,” I muttered.
I wanted him to leave me the hell alone tonight. I was exhausted from finals. Over the last three days, I’d slept a total of five hours and I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that still gripped my gut. I hoped my psychology professor took my end-of-semester term paper since I’d slipped it under his door late. My scholarship required me to keep a certain GPA, or I would find myself right back here in this shit-hole on a permanent basis.
“I’m warning you. Don’t pull one of your stunts and ruin dinner.”
“Yes, sir.” I struggled to tone down the sarcasm. He gave one last commanding glare before stepping around my suitcase and leaving my bedroom. Hearing his shoes on the stairs, I got up and slammed my door before falling down on the bed. My phone lit up again with another message from Trevor.
“Get your pussy ass over here. This is your fucking party.”
I didn’t want any damn homecoming party, but we both knew this had nothing to do with me. Not really. Back in the fifth grade, his mom had left with some guy who grew hemp on a commune in California. Mr. Higgins had never really gotten over that one. He slowly spiraled into a worthless father who spent all his time and money at the Indian casinos. I’m sure Trevor was all alone and my trip back for winter break was an excuse for some bender blowout at his house.
I felt that usual pang of guilt when it came to my old friend. After all, tomorrow was Christmas and I bet he was spending it by himself again. He was like some ripped-up teddy bear, tossed in the dumpster and forgotten. Letting out a deep breath, I picked up my phone, shooting off a quick reply.
“Be there soon, asshole.”
Heading downstairs, I heard their voices before I even reached the landing. I grabbed my black hoodie from off the back of the couch. Glancing in the direction of the laughter, I saw my family gathered around the table in the kitchen—waiting for me.
Hopefully, I could slip out the door without my parents knowing I was headed to Trevor’s house. Just the mention of his name would make my dad get all preachy and shit again. You need to stay clear of that Higgins boy. I’d heard it most of high school.
“Where are you going, Wyatt?” Her soft voice made me stop in my tracks. I looked over my shoulder, seeing the sad smile on my mom’s face as she stood under the curved archway that led into the kitchen. “Are you leaving? You just got here.”
“I’m just going for a little ride. I won’t be gone long.”
The visible hurt flashed in her eyes. “Well, it’s already after eight and I just got finished with dinner.”
I got a whiff of something that resembled pie. Only a complete asshole cut out on Christmas Eve, but I needed to get to his house, make an appearance for Trevor’s sake. I would spend some time with the guys, and then take it easy the rest of winter break.
Ever since I’d gotten the scholarship to play for Texas Westmiller University, my life was an endless looping circle of football practice, class, and homework. Coach was a hard ass, but he was damn good. It’s the reason our football season ended in the Division-II semifinals.
But now I was here. I was back in Gibbs and the same old claws of the monster pulled me right back down into the depths of his debauchery. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t just a little excited. I’d missed Marcus and Trevor while I was away.
“I’m sorry, Mom. But there’s something I gotta do.”
“You going to Trevor’s house?” Her eyes probed with the questions I knew she would never ask of me. The whole town of Gibbs heard the rumors of the crazy shit that went on just over the city limit line—my father more than any of them.
“Yeah. Just for a little bit.”
“You should invite him over tomorrow.” Even though my dad hated the guy, my mom on the other hand had a soft spot for the delinquents.
“You sure that’s okay?” I asked, glancing toward the kitchen at my father. His large frame seemed three sizes too big for our old dining chair. I stared for a moment as he talked to my little sister Willa. She laughed, flipping her brown hair over her shoulder. It seemed so normal and easy with them.
“Yes, invite Trevor. I’m the one making the food. I can give it to anyone I want to.”
My father picked up a six-inch knife, taking a stab at the roasted turkey. I moved out of eyesight before he noticed my presence. “Thanks, Mom. That’s um . . . that would be nice.”
“Don’t stay out too late. Grandma and Grandpa will be here early. They want to see you and Willa open presents.”
“Okay, Mom.” I laughed under my breath. “Early, as in?”
“Seven.”
“Fu . . . I um . . . mean. That’s nice.” The Christmas show still went on like I was five. My pocket vibrated again. Shit. Trevor needed to calm the hell down.
“Bye, Mom.” I gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.
Flipping the hood over my head, I left through the old front door, leaving my mom standing alone in the living room. I went around to the storage building where they kept my bike. I didn’t take it to college. I didn’t want any of those stupid assholes touching it as a prank.
Lifting the tarp, the moonlight reflected off the shiny chrome and black. The motorcycle had been a gift from my grandpa when I turned sixteen. He’d restored the old Harley himself. My father had wanted to send it immediately back over to his garage. He said it played right into the path of me becoming a felon. Personally, I think it saved me from it.
I pulled a pack of Marlboros out of my pocket. Lighting up a cigarette, I took a couple of drags and studied the clouds. The air was chilly and smelled of winter rain. I’d probably get soaked on the way back, but it was a better option than my truck.
I straddled the seat, feeling a deep rush of freedom under my thighs. It had been too damn long. I took a few more puffs before tossing the butt on the ground. I’d get shit from my father over that one tomorrow once he figured out my smoking habits were still alive and well. He’d be pissed that college didn’t fix everything about me.
Putting the key in the ignition, I fired up the engine, letting it get warmed up. The sound sent chills down my back. My grandpa did a hell of a job on it. I drove down the driveway, glancing back at the house. My father’s broad shoulders cast a dark shape against the window as he watched me leave. I felt the anger from his face without actually seeing it.
I dared him to come out and yank me off the seat, pull me by the arm right back in the kitchen and throw my ass down in the chair. Force me to stay for one of our typical discussions that was more yelling than talking. Giving him one last look, I gunned the engine a few times and peeled out in the street.
The football scholarship changed more than one thing about my life. It got me away from my friends—and my father. I only came back for holidays and I didn’t give a shit if he showed up at my games. Another perk of going to college in south Texas.
That’s the thing about being a PK. Not the preacher’s kid, but a more destructive one. My father was the police chief for the town of Gibbs. He’d always expected the same authority at both work and at home, which only caused me to push back against an unmovable force. I was the round object he’d tried to cram into a square hole. And sometimes I still provoked him on purpose—just for the hell of it.
Sucking in a deep breath, the air settled in my lungs as I watched the streetlights glow under the cold mist. My nerves seemed to relax the farther I got from my house. Cruising through the comfortable darkness, I looked around my old hometown. The whole place was lit on fire with the familiar Christmas lights—the same ones they’d pulled out of storage each year that had faded to a pink color instead of shiny red.
Once I cleared Main Street, I kicked it up to seventy. The bike went over the rough metal of the railroad tracks to the literal other side of town. The chilly wind slapped my bare face, making me feel better than I had in months. As much as I loved college, it was brutal at times—and so very different than here.
As I pulled in the driveway full of three-foot tall weeds, I thought about Trevor. His life was an overgrown mess of shit. Unlike me, he wasn’t going to do anything about it. He was a follower right down the path of his father and it all happened because his mom was a selfish bitch who had left him.
The yard was full of cars and an assortment of trash. The low bass from the music was louder than the motor on my bike. Pulling up in front of the garage, I looked at the mangled door. The damn thing must have broken months ago, and no one had bothered to fix it. I cleared the lopsided hanging metal and parked inside to keep the rain off the old Harley. An arm grabbed me as I slung my right leg over the seat.
“I was beginning to think your ass was too good for me.”
“Shut up, Trevor. You don’t need me. Looks like you got a full house.” I hugged the guy who had been my friend since kindergarten. Trevor was so damn needy sometimes. He never could stand on his own. He’d always had Marcus and me at his side. “By the way, my mom wants you to come over for dinner tomorrow.”
“Really?” His face lit up. “She making that stuffing shit?”
In that moment, I felt bad for the guy. That was the thing about Trevor. He made sure I never forgot him. It was the eyes. The sad, pathetic eyes that spurned pity from his friends and made the girls fuck him.
“Yeah, I’m sure there’s stuffing.” I followed Trevor around the busted bags of trash and hundreds of old containers and bottles, scattered across the cement. The smell caught my stomach. Some kind of animal must have died in here too.
“Everybody is here. And wait until you see Melissa. Damn.”
We entered through the garage and for a split second, I froze. The world stopped spinning and it was senior year all over again. I swear he’d invited our entire class.
“Carter!” Marcus reached me first. “You got here just in time. We’re lining up another Crash.”
“Shit, man. I can’t be doing that stuff tonight.”
“Sure you can.”
I hadn’t done that kind of drinking since I’d left this place. Crash was a game Marcus had invented our sophomore year. The fastest to down four shots of vodka plus a can of beer, without hands, was the winner.
Trevor had me on one side and Marcus on the other as they pulled me through the kitchen. The three amigos. Growing up, they had been my best friends. Inseparable in T-ball and football and all that shit that boys did in small towns. Even when we got older, everything stayed the same between us—even when our activities got a little wilder.
The guys pushed me over to where Becca Fenton was lying on the dining room table. A night-and-day difference from what I’d just left in my parents’ kitchen.
“I can’t.” I protested as Marcus poured the clear liquid into the glasses. Glancing across to the other side of the stained-up table, I saw Jimmy Meisner, sticking shots on some girl I didn’t recognize. I felt the old hatred brewing under my skin like a lit match. I despised the guy. He was an obnoxious asshole who had tried to break my nose in PE class in elementary school.
All the internal conflict dissolved into the excitement of crushing his ass. One round wouldn’t hurt. Looking back down at Becca, her nipples poked through the tight, white shirt. I pulled the bottom of the fabric up just enough to show her tan stomach and belly button ring. She giggled, pushing it up higher, exposing her see-through white bra.
“Shit, man. Here.” Marcus handed me two oversized shot glasses. As I tucked one against her neck, she leaned up for a kiss. Her mouth grabbed mine with a quick bite to the lip. I pushed her back to the table, catching the shot before it slipped to the floor.
“Be still,” I warned.
“Sorry, Wyatt. I haven’t seen you in a while.” She grinned, showing off the wide smile I remembered very well. I laughed, shaking my head at her attempt to flirt with me. Becca and I had history going back to ninth grade. She was the first girl I’d ever fucked.
“Let’s just win this, and we can catch up later.”
“Sure.”
As I balanced the second glass between her tits, I caught myself looking into her eyes. She smiled again. Becca was better than this shit, but I guess things never really changed—not even me in this moment.
Marcus handed over another two glasses. Flipping up her skirt, I shoved the third shot against her purple-lace crotch. She giggled again as my fingers grazed her inner thigh. I put the fourth shot inside her knees and the can of beer between her red painted toes.
“You assholes ready?” Marcus shouted across the noise of the house. Jimmy and I stared at him, waiting for the signal.
“Go!”
I clasped each glass between my teeth. They went down fast. The beer trick was always the hardest, but once I got the can balanced between my elbows, it was over for Jimmy.
“Wyatt Carter!” Marcus yelled across the room. He slapped me on the back. “Damn, you still got it. That college shit hasn’t whipped your ass.”
“I told you. Same lame-ass parties, just hotter girls and better liquor.” Except that wasn’t exactly true. Coach would cut me faster than I could blink if he caught me drinking. Texas Westmiller didn’t approve of that sort of thing.
“Well, Mr. Preppy. Don’t say that shit to Trevor. He went all out for you tonight.” Marcus poured two shots of vodka, pushing one in my hand. He tapped the glasses together for a toast. “Here’s to the cheap stuff. I hope it lights your ass on fire and gives you the shits.”
I tipped it back, rolling my eyes at the guy who I considered my best friend. Tonight was like a damn time warp. In a brief moment, I remembered the first time we had downed shots. I was thirteen. Trevor had stolen a bottle of tequila from his dad’s stash. Marcus and I had taken turns until I saw him pass out on the floor—even though he swears I crashed first. Trevor wouldn’t ever tell us the truth. Said he was taking it to his grave.
We’d had some fun times growing up. Marcus, Trevor, and I had been so different, but it had worked for us.
Marcus Tucker was the actual preppy of my friends. The good one. His dad was a former city councilman who got himself elected mayor last year. Marcus even went to a state university in Arkansas but flunked out his freshman year. When we talked a few weeks ago, he thought the school might let him back in for the spring semester.
“So? What’s the verdict?” I asked.
“Hopefully hooking up with Zoey tonight.”
“Jackass.” I rolled my eyes. “You going back to Arkansas?”
“Yeah. Probation is over. They let me back in. Trevor’s pissed of course since I won’t be around.” Marcus laughed, glancing over to where our friend was smoking a joint. “But I’m going to do it right this time. No more of this shit. You know what I mean?”
I let out a deep breath. “More than you realize.”
“Zoey said she would marry me if I could keep it together this year.”
“Really?”
“Crazy, huh? I bought a ring and everything. I haven’t given it to her yet though. I’m trying to figure out a way to surprise her. Who knows. I might just do it tomorrow. That would be a hell of a Christmas present.” He laughed, the happiness glowing in his eyes. Marcus put an arm around my shoulders. “You’ll be my best man, right?”
“Shit, man. I’m the closest thing you got to a brother. I better be.”
He grabbed the vodka bottle, topping off the glasses again. “To getting married.”
“To not flunking out of school.” Tipping the shot back, the alcohol burned all the way down my throat.
“And there she is. My girl is looking hot tonight. Zoey!” Marcus yelled over the music at the tiny brunette who came in the front door. He poured one final shot in my oversized glass, slapping me on the back. “I’ll see you later. And try to have a little fun tonight. You can go back to being a Texas nun after break.”
“Asshole.” I shook my head, swallowing the contents of his parting gift.
Marcus ran off across the living room and grabbed Zoey Lemming, lifting her right off the nasty carpet. She squealed as he spun her around before sticking his tongue down her throat. She was the only girl Marcus had ever hooked up with and the only girl he’d sworn to ever love.
As he whispered in her ear, Zoey turned in my direction. She waved, and I nodded in return. They were the perfect couple: the quarterback and homecoming queen kind of shit.
My eyes drifted around the room at the bare walls. Half of the paper was ripped off next to the couch. An area of the kitchen still had fire damage from the time we had gotten smashed junior year—the kind of drunk that made us think spiders were edible if we set them on fire.
Then I saw her. My ex-girlfriend Melissa, wearing a tight, red sweater. Damn, Trevor was right. My hands and eyes were very familiar with that body—and that shit was no longer real. She looked up in my direction, sending over an icy stare. Melissa was still pissed at me for ending it before I’d left for college.
“What are you doing over here alone, Wyatt?” Becca handed me a can of beer.
“Just taking a breather.” I tipped the can back, swallowing half of the cold liquid. “What are you doing these days?”
“Not much. Still doing hair at the Glamour Shack.”
“Sounds nice.” I didn’t know what else to say. Swallowing the rest of the can, I leaned against the wall. The noise in the room got vague and hazy in my head as her hand rubbed along my thigh. I knew what she wanted. Things had always seemed to continue between us, off and on through the years, after our first time together.
Removing her fingers off my crotch, I pulled Becca into the bathroom. Her kisses were familiar. Her body moved in all the same ways as I pressed her against the white ceramic sink. Becca slipped her fingers down between us and tugged the zipper on my jeans.
I let go long enough to pull the broken drawer open on the cabinet. Grabbing a condom from Trevor’s stash, I lifted Becca onto the sink. We fit together just like a hundred other times.
The bathroom door opened, and Ronny Burkett walked right past us. He took a long piss in the toilet before stumbling back out the door, slamming it behind him.
“Oh my gosh.” Becca burst out laughing, her forehead leaning into my chest as she struggled to stay sitting on the sink.
“I don’t think he even saw us.”
“But I saw more than I ever wanted of Ronny. That’s some nasty stuff he keeps down there.” Her nose squinted up. “And he didn’t even wash his hands after touching it.”
“So I guess those rumors of you and The Burkman weren’t true.” I grinned back at her.
“Asshole. You know I got better taste than that.”
Becca jumped down, fixing her skirt. She kissed me briefly, leaving the taste of beer and strawberry lip gloss on my mouth.
Someone beat on the door. “Stop fucking in there. I need to take a piss.”
Becca whispered against my lips. “This was fun, you know. Catching up.”
I smiled back at her. “I should come home more often.”
“You should.”
The flimsy door rattled as someone took a fist to it again.
“I guess we better get out of here.”
“Bye, Wyatt.” I let Becca kiss me one last time before opening the door. She gave the middle finger to Jimmy Meisner who was waiting to come inside the bathroom. Damn, that guy was everywhere tonight.
I walked back into the crowded living room, picking up a couple of cans of beer. I took a seat alone on the couch. I never made actual plans to have sex with Becca when I came back into town. But we always had a tendency to find each other. There were no delusions. We both knew it would never be more. I never loved her or Melissa for that matter—even with her new tits.
I wasn’t like Marcus. I’d never felt something even close to what he shared with Zoey. I cared about Becca in a friendship kind of way, but Melissa could go to hell. She had a scary-evil temper. After one of my games, she’d burned all my jerseys when she decided I’d lied about what I did at one of Trevor’s parties. My high school coach almost kicked me off the team.
A glazed-over Marcus half-fell down on top of me. “Come on, buddy, you ready to go again? I’ve got money riding on you.”
“I think I’ve had enough.”
“Come on. One more round of Crash. I’ve got a hundred bucks on this one. You’ll crush it. Win one more for me. Remember. You’re on vacation.” The words slurred from his grinning mouth.
“Marcus, I’ve got grandparents coming at seven in the morning. I’m out, man.” And I needed out of this house too. I needed some fresh air or rather a little nicotine. “I’ll catch you later.”
Grabbing my hoodie, I made my way outside into the trash dump known as Trevor’s yard. I took a piss next to an old washing machine.
Leaning back against the house, my fingers touched the rotted siding. I remembered a time when it used to be yellow. Digging inside my pocket, I pulled out my cigarettes and lighter. I sucked in a drag, letting the smoke settle in my lungs before releasing a puff into the air. A slight gust of wind hit my neck. I flipped the hood up over my head, blocking out the freezing drizzle. It was going to be a nasty Christmas tomorrow.
Noises from the party drifted up into the quiet night. None of this ever changed. Life here was strange and yet so familiar. Taking another drag from my cigarette, I heard laughter coming from the back porch. I listened for a moment, catching the low voice of Trevor.
With a house full of girls, it wasn’t a surprise that he’d lured one outside to his usual spot on the covered back porch. Dropping the butt, I watched the faint embers disappear in the drizzle. The voices laughed again. I stepped around the old washing machine and through the overgrown weeds into the backyard . . . and then I froze in place.
My sister. My little sister Willa was on Trevor’s lap in a lawn chair. Sitting on the wooden deck, her friend Layla leaned against his legs, holding a cup in her hand. The girls laughed at something he said too low for me to hear.
A slight gust of wind hit my face as I remembered the night Trevor had gotten drunk and tied a girl to the railroad tracks in some freaky-shit dare. I knew better than anyone what he liked to do with women. He bragged about it until I wanted to punch him sometimes. But like a moth to a flame, those girls always fell for him anyway.
“Hey, man.” His face took on that charming grin and my fists clenched into a death grip as I watched my friend touch Willa’s knee. “Look who showed up tonight. I’ve been trying to get your little sis out here for months since she got her license.”
“How did you get here?” I said, looking directly at her and ignoring him.
“I drove.” She scooted out of the chair, holding onto the plastic cup. Her arm moved in an exaggerated circle, sloshing the red contents all over her Ugg boots. The smell of alcohol drifted up around us.
“You need to go home.” I tried to keep my voice steady when everything about this situation made me sick to my stomach.
“I can’t,” she giggled. “Dad . . . um. He will . . . be mad if he sees me . . . like this.”
Shit. She was drunk. The idea of Willa being hammered at one of Trevor’s parties sent a deep chill down my spine.
“Come on, Carter. Let her stay just a little bit longer.” He flashed that pathetic grin, but it wasn’t going to work on me tonight. He knew better than to mess with my sister.
“Get your stuff. I’ll deal with Dad when we get home.”
“You’re leaving?” Trevor got out of the chair and came down the steps into the yard. “I had to beg your ass to come over here. Now you’re leaving. That’s fine. Get the hell out. But maybe she doesn’t want to leave. You were having fun, right, Willa?”
“Shut the hell up, Trevor. You may act like you’re still in high school, but she’s the one who’s actually sixteen.”
“When did you become such a fucking tool?”
I punched him. He fell over backward before my fist even registered the pain. I shook my hand out a bit. Trevor spit blood on the ground. “Last damn party I ever throw you. College did nothing but make you into an ungrateful prick.”
My sister’s stupid friend Layla came over to his side, dabbing at his busted lip. Her sweater slid up a little around her waist, showing off a silver belly button ring. That lazy grin reappeared on his lips. I stared down at Trevor, shaking my head.
“She’s also sixteen. So keep your dick in your pants.”
“Go to hell, Carter.”
Grabbing Willa under the arm, her cup spilled down the front of my sweatshirt. I took it from her hand, throwing the blue Solo cup down on the ground with the rest of the trash.
“Come on.” I dragged my sister through the backyard. We stumbled down the grass path and into the front around a pile of beer cans. I walked too fast for Willa to keep up, but I didn’t want to risk Trevor following us.
“I didn’t mean for you to get in a fight,” she mumbled as she clung to my arm.
“It’s fine.” I hated the fact that I’d punched him. But he’d eventually get over it. We didn’t store up all that resentment shit like girls.
“I thought it would be okay to come to the party since you were here.”
“No. It’s not okay to be at Trevor’s. Ever.” I growled the words. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“But he’s your friend.”
“Yes, but Trevor and Marcus are not your friends. And never will be.”
She tripped, but I caught Willa before she fell completely in the grass. “Sorry. My foot got caught in some wire.”
“It’s fine. Just keep walking so we don’t get that wet.”
I stopped at her Tahoe, which was parked between a yellow Cavalier and a beat-up white truck. The smell of that red punch had followed us all the way back to her car. I didn’t know what the hell Trevor had poured down my sister, but it stunk like toxic sludge.
“The um . . . the keys are in here somewhere.” Her lips puckered up as she dug around in the large brown purse.
“No. Give them to me.”
“What about your motorcycle?” Willa handed over the ring with a little cross dangling next to the ignition key.
“I’ll come back for my bike tomorrow.”
I opened the passenger’s door, helping my sister into the seat. Going around to the driver’s side, I climbed behind the wheel of my old SUV that my parents had given to Willa. The fifteen-year-old motor fired up a little clunky. I took a deep breath, gripping the steering wheel.
“Promise me something. You will never come here again.”
“Okay.” Her eyes stayed fixated on the darkness outside. “I only came because of you. I know I shouldn’t be over at Trevor’s. But when you got home, I thought you would be excited to see us. I wanted to watch Christmas Vacation like we used to. I thought it would be fun. But you didn’t even stay.”
Hearing the pain in her soft voice, I felt like a complete asshole. My jaw gritted tight as I watched a tear fall down her cheek.
“Maybe,” I muttered. “Maybe we can watch Christmas Vacation when we get back to the house.”
“Nah. It doesn’t matter now.” She wiped another tear from her face. I swallowed hard, seeing Willa lean against the window glass. I had crushed her tonight, just like I’d done a hundred other times through the years. I’d never done much when it came to her. She’d always asked me to come to her dance recitals and piano concerts and all that shit, but I’d never given her the time of day.
Someone beat on the driver’s side glass. I rolled down the window, seeing Marcus outside. “Can you um . . . shit. I’m drunk. Like really drunk. Can you give me a ride home?”
“Sure.”
Marcus climbed in the back door. He scooted to the middle, draping an arm over each seat. “Hey, Willow Tree. I didn’t know you came with Wyatt?”
“She didn’t,” I snapped.
“What’s wrong?” His words slurred into one.
“Nothing,” I muttered.
I went forward, tapping the yellow car slightly on the bumper. Throwing the Tahoe into reverse, I floored the gas pedal. I needed to get the hell out of here.
I was the black sheep of the family, the one who wreaked havoc and butted heads with my dad. My sister was the good one. She had no business being anywhere near this place. I picked up speed, trying to get Willa away as fast as possible before this house of hell seeped into her innocent skin.
As we cleared the railroad tracks, the vehicle lifted slightly off the ground. I flicked the windshield wipers on to clear the drizzle. My phone buzzed from inside my pocket. Pulling it out, I saw Trevor on the screen.
“Sorry, man. I would never touch your sister. Can I still come for stuffing tomorrow?”
Oh, hell. If Trevor didn’t come over, he would be alone on Christmas Day. Tossing the phone down in the cup holder, I would wait and text him back when I got home. I let out a deep breath, feeling the irony of the whole situation. The guy still made you feel sorry for him, even after he’d caused you to punch him in the face.
“How long you staying in town this time?” Marcus said next to my ear as he leaned on the back of the driver’s seat.
“New Year’s Day. Coach wants us back early.”
“Shit. You’re always running off. But you always loved football more than me. I only played because of you. Remember? You made me play varsity. I was going to quit.”
“I couldn’t play without my QB. I hate it now. Wish you would’ve come with me.”
“Too damn far away, Carter. Zoey would leave my ass. I’d never come back like you.”
“Asshole.” Glancing over in the passenger’s seat, I saw a tear fall down my sister’s cheek. I knew the comment about me leaving had crushed her all over again. I should come back more. I should be here for Willa.
“I’m sorry,” I muttered, but the apology came a second too late. I said the words as her face shattered into a million pieces.
I drifted away, feeling the world spin in circles, around and around as my body slammed hard against the door and the seat belt cut into my neck. Grinding metal echoed with screams as the SUV rolled sideways, flipping upside down before landing right side up and smashing into the electric pole. She screamed and screamed until she didn’t scream anymore.
I struggled to catch my breath. I struggled to see as blood ran down into my eyes. Wiping my face with my right hand, my left arm no longer felt connected to my body. The pain in my chest hurt like knives, stabbing over and over with each breath.
Glass covered everything in the front seat. The windshield was completely gone. Looking over in the passenger’s seat, Willa’s head rested against the shattered door. Blood soaked her pink sweater as it ran from her head.
“Willa. Wake up.” It took everything in me to reach over to where her head hung lifeless from the shoulder strap. I shook her arm, but my sister didn’t budge.
“Come on, Willa.” The desperation in my voice came out like a tiny screech. Blood poured out of her nose, soaking everything in her lap. Panic overtook my thoughts. Everything got blurry as I shook her arm in a frantic attempt to get her to answer me. “Willa!”
I tried to open my door, but my left hand refused to clasp the handle. I think my shoulder was pulled out of socket. Reaching over with my right hand, I pushed and pushed against the warped metal.
“Hold on, buddy.”
I heard a voice somewhere outside the car. Looking through the mangled door, I saw a man talking, but I didn’t recognize him.
“It’s okay. I’m gonna get you out.”
He pulled and pulled until the door moved on the hinges. I tried to climb out, but nothing seemed to work correctly. Taking a step, I fell to the street. Blood soaked the front of my jeans. I tried again, feeling a ripping pain through the bone. My leg was broken and bleeding through the skin. I kept on trying to walk despite the agony.
“Let me help you.” The older man with brown hair had a busted-up lip. Dark, bloody spots covered his green sweater. I held onto the stranger as he dragged me around to the back side of the SUV. Sparks shot out of the electric pole as it rested on top of the old post office. Everything around us smelled like burning rubber.
We reached the passenger’s side door. Willa seemed worse than when I’d seen her inside the car.
“Have to um. Have to get my um sister out.” I think I spoke the words, but I wasn’t sure if they actually left my lips. My vision got cloudy again, and I leaned against the busted-up metal.
“Okay. Let me see what I can do.”
I struggled to stay conscious as my body slid down the side of the car and onto the ground. Sparks shot out of the pole again as the roof caved in on the post office. Lights flashed each time I blinked. I swallowed, tasting blood in my mouth. And then I saw flames.
“How did this happen?” I muttered. None of it made sense. I couldn’t remember what had happened or how the SUV had become a crumbled pile of metal.
The stranger stopped fiddling with the door and looked down at me. “You were swerving all over the road.”
“Wh-what?” I mumbled to myself, trying to remember the last few moments in the car.
“I tried to miss you, but I couldn’t. We hit, and your SUV rolled over into that light pole.”
“I wasn’t. That’s not—” My mind went blank. Fear burned right through my gut. Why couldn’t I remember what happened? Running a hand across my forehead, tiny shards of glass cut into my skin.
The man worked to get the door open, but he didn’t seem to be making any progress. Something gnawed at the back of my mind like a scratch I couldn’t touch. Maybe it was the glass in the side of my head. Maybe it was cutting away into my brain cells.
Then it flashed. Marcus. The faint memory burned in my mind. Marcus was in the backseat. I pulled myself off the ground and to the crunched-up backseat window glass. Peering inside, I tried to focus on the middle row.
“My friend,” I mumbled.
“Your friend?” The man asked as he stared at me. His face spread into two and then back to one. A frown appeared on his lips.
“He’s in there too.”
The man froze for a moment. “There’s no one else in there.”
My heart stopped, and I second-guessed myself. I went to Trevor’s. Marcus got in the car. He asked for a ride. He was in there, talking about football and shit. I know he was in there. That was real.
Stumbling away into the street, I saw a black dually truck with the hood crunched like a beer can. It was completely totaled.
Smoke billowed out in front of me, filling my lungs and I doubled over coughing. My chest hurt as I gasped for air. Looking up into the sky, I saw the old post office on fire. The building went up like kindling and lighter fluid, spreading to the new bank next door. And the furniture store. Shit! The flames were everywhere.
Staggering out into the middle of Main Street, I tripped over a broken side mirror. Pieces of bumper and metal covered the wet ground. A pinkish-colored Santa was lying in the middle of the street. Dragging my leg along the pavement beside me, I searched until I found his crumpled-up body in the debris.
Marcus. The pain grew to a hot fire under my skin, seeing his body twisted at an odd angle.
“Marcus?” I whispered. He was just lying there in a pool of his own blood. I wanted to help him, but I didn’t know what to do. Shit. He looked dead. So very dead. What have I done? My gut clenched like someone punched me.
My heart gripped in my chest as my thoughts raced widely and I gasped for air. The night spiraled around as I remembered going to Trevor’s house. I saw my sister. I made her leave. Marcus got in the car. We crashed. I crashed. I killed my oldest friend. I killed my sister. They were dead. I killed them.
My mom. Her face came to me under the misty rain. What would I tell my mom? Willa was dead. I was supposed to take care of her, but I’d forced her in the car. She trusted me. Willa had gotten in the car because she’d trusted me.
Everything spun in circles. I fell down beside Marcus in the middle of the street. I couldn’t feel my leg anymore. Sirens echoed in the distance. Maybe I was dead. Maybe I should be. Maybe the fire truck would come through the street and plow me down, kill me like I’d destroyed them.
The sirens howled in the night, getting louder and louder. I remembered the time we dressed up like Ghostbusters for Halloween. Me, Trevor, and Marcus. My mom had made the costumes. She’d even created a little white ghost one for Willa. We’d taken her through the neighborhood as she carried a tiny flashing red light in case she had gotten lost from us. It had made a little sound like a siren if you pushed the top.
Tears rolled down my cheeks. Sucking in a deep breath, I smelled the stench of alcohol on my clothes. I knew why I couldn’t remember. The whole evening was a haze for a reason. It was my fault. I should rot in hell. I killed them.
Looking out into the darkness, the bank clock glowed above my head with the time. 12:12 a.m. My eyes slipped out of focus and the numbers faded away as I lost consciousness. It was officially Christmas.