Trigger
*Dallas*
December 23, 2015
I hold Kayla tightly in my arms as she cries softly into my chest. I was expecting this kind of reaction; it is only normal considering how close she was with her father. But that didn’t make it hurt any less to see her crying in front of me.
It twisted my heart strings when I saw her fall to her knees, sobs running through her body. When she started speaking to her father, it was beautiful; she even brought me up. I was surprised when she claimed that Mr. Williams came to our games. How odd, considering Kayla didn’t.
It was only when Kayla said those four words that something within me broke.
“I love him, Dad.” The fact that she was confessing her feelings to her father made them so much more real. She meant it. Kayla Williams is in love with me.
After feeling all the sympathy I had when she cried in front of me and spoke to her father, her small confession pushed me over the edge, and a stray tear rolled down my cheek.
I am not embarrassed that I cried for her. I will never be embarrassed for feeling the emotions that I do when I’m with Kayla. She has shed a new light on me, and I will do everything in my power to ensure that light is not snuffed out.
Kayla gathers my shirt into her hands, clinging tightly to me as if I am her only chance of living. It hurts me to see her like this, my brave, sweet, strong Kayla. I place a kiss to the top of her head, lifting my eyes for the first time to take in our surroundings.
The cemetery is empty, apart from us. There are hundreds upon hundreds of tombstones lined across the field, all different shapes and sizes. Lincoln Memorial Park, the same cemetery where my brother is buried. I look to my right, my eyes following the path that leads to his grave.
But today, we’re here for Kayla, I remind myself.
Snow falls lightly around us and sticks softly to blanket the ground. It’s a beautiful scene that could have been picked out of a movie. If only that were the case, for then Kayla’s father would only be an actor and would still be alive and well after the scene is filmed.
Turning my eyes to the left, back the way we came, I notice something familiar and out of the ordinary. I instantly tense, my fingers digging tightly into Kayla’s waist. She lets out a gasp of pain before she pulls away from me and looks at me with her questioning gaze. “Dallas? What’s wrong?” she asks, quickly wiping away her tears.
Oh, Kayla…why can’t you just be given one day? One day to mourn, one day to forget.
“It’s him. It’s the car,” I whisper, my eyes moving back to the large black Ford Expedition. The windows are tinted, just as before. It is parked, sitting idle but still running as large puffs of exhaust escape the pipe under the car.
“What?” Her voice quivers as she moves closer to me, looking across the cemetery to see the SUV parked beside my Jeep Wrangler. I instinctively wrap my arm around Kayla’s shoulders and pull her close to me.
Who is he? Who is behind the wheel? Kyle said we know him…but he also said we didn’t. Who is he?
“Stay here.” I quickly detach from Kayla and jog between the graves, ignoring as she calls for me to stop.
I quicken my pace as I get closer to the SUV, and for a quick moment, a rational thought crosses my mind. He most likely has a gun.
The same gun that killed my brother. A blind rage that I’ve never felt before takes over, and I am sprinting toward the car now. As I exit the cemetery and enter the parking lot, I am a few feet away from the car. I can scarcely see through the windshield, my eyes squinting to get a better look. All I see are two males sitting side by side, one with dark hair and one with lighter hair. They’re both wearing sunglasses. Before I can see anything else, the SUV screeches away, blowing up smoke and the smell of burnt rubber.
They drive past me, and I skid to a stop, worried for a split second that they will shoot me. But they don’t; they just drive away as if their tail is on fire.
Letting out a growl of frustration, I turn to see Kayla slowly jogging toward me, her arms wrapped around her small body. “What are you doing?” I holler, running over to meet her. Kayla’s eyes are wide with fear as she looks up at me, absentmindedly rubbing her cold arms.
“What were you doing? You could have—”
“I told you to stay! Do you know what could have happened—?”
“You could have gotten shot! Dallas, what we’re you thinking?” Her voice rises as I see anger burn behind her eyes. Well, that makes two of us. I told her to stay put. How could I live with myself if something had happened to her?
“I was thinking that those were the pricks that shot Kyle! I was trying to see who they were! I told you to stay put, Kayla…”
“Dallas…” she whispers, bringing a hand to her mouth as I see tears gather in her eyes. She shakes her head and turns away from me for a moment. “I died a thousand deaths just now, Dallas.” Kayla’s voice is so small as she twists to look up at me again. Just like that, all my anger dissipates as I see her fight tears again. “Did you even think what would have happened to me if you were shot? Do you think I can live through that a third time? Someone dying on me?” My throat closes up as I feel the sudden urge to cry with her. Her pain is so strong, so pure, it almost feels as if it is my own.
“Kayla, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I just reacted.” I don’t know what to say, how to make it up to her. While I was too busy worried about who was behind the wheel of that car, Kayla was staring wide eyed at a scene that could have ended very badly. She could have seen what I saw three months ago.
“I want to find them too, Dallas. I want to find justice too. But not at the expense of your own life. Don’t act so irrationally again. Promise me.” Kayla steps forward so she’s nearly a foot away from me now. She keeps her arms wrapped around herself. Her lips are turning blue, and I can hear the clatter of her teeth as they rattle.
“You have my word.” And she does. I wasn’t thinking about her. I was being selfish, and I thought about my own wants and my own needs. What Kayla was feeling and experiencing didn’t cross my mind, and I’m ashamed to admit that. “And I am sorry for yelling at you. I have no right telling you what to do.” I reach forward to grab one of her cold hands and bring her even closer. I gather her second hand and cup them between my own. I lift our joint hands and blow hot air onto her chilled fingers. Kayla lets out a sigh of relief. From my promise or my attempt to warm her up, I do not know.
I lead Kayla to the Jeep, my eyes instinctively darting around our surroundings, in search for any form of danger. Kayla climbs into the passenger seat, and I take my spot in the driver’s. I turn on the car and blast the heat before I turn and gather her in my arms. I rub my hands up and down her back, trying to cause friction to warm her.
“It was silly of me not to bring a coat,” she whispers, her words shaky as she shivers.
“I should have warned you. It’s on me as well.” Even though I am only wearing a button-down dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, I am not cold. The adrenaline rush ensured that I was well heated.
When Kayla’s shivering subsides, I decide to drive her home. She stays seated in the car once I shift into park. Kayla looks over at me. “This was by far the best date ever, aside from the little mishap. Thank you so much, Dallas.” She leans over the console to place a brief kiss to my lips. I close my eyes and savor the feel of her kiss. I could live off that one kiss.
“Anything for you, Kay.” I lift a hand and touch her cool cheek. It’s still not warm, even though the heat is on full blast. I silently pray she doesn’t get sick. I rub my thumb over her cheekbone as I stare into her beautiful hazel eyes. “I love you, Kayla.” The words are a soft whisper, yet they are the truth. After everything that has happened today, I know that they are.
“I love you, Dallas Perkins. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas.” With a final kiss, Kayla slides out of the Jeep and runs inside. I see puffs of air surround her as she breathes through the cold air.
I’ve always hated winter.
“How was it?” my mother asks as I drop my keys in the dish that we use to keep our car keys on the kitchen counter. I give my mom a hug, and she gives me a tight squeeze.
“It was great. Perfect, actually.” I decide not to tell my mom about the black SUV. I don’t want to trouble her during the holidays. “I told Kayla I love her.”
My mom gasps, her eyes wide as she clasps her hands together. “Oh, Dallas! That’s great! Did she say it back?”
“Yes. She loves me too, Ma,” I say, rolling my eyes. My mom lets out a squeal of joy, and I’m astonished to see her so happy. I haven’t seen her smile this widely since before Kyle’s death. It’s refreshing and well needed.
“Oh, bless that girl. How she puts up with you, I will never know.” Her joke is nothing short of the truth. I’m still shocked that Kayla puts up with me as well.
I don’t deserve her.
“Well, I’m going to bed. Thanks for waiting up.” I had told her not to wait for me when I was on my way out, knowing that she goes to bed around 8:00. But I am surprisingly happy that she’s here and I was able to tell her about my evening.
I place a kiss on my mother’s cheek and run up the stairs until I enter my room. I very quickly unbutton my shirt and pants, pulling off my clothes. I neatly fold them and set them on my dresser to deal with tomorrow. Dressed only in my boxer briefs, I peel back my covers and slide into bed. It’s been a long day, and I’m exhausted.
Once my head hits the pillow, I drift into a tossing dream.
“Dallas, no!” Kayla yells behind me, but I don’t listen. I completely ignore her pleas, even though a voice in my head tells me to do as she says. Stay with her. But I keep running, weaving through the tombstones, even leaping over some of them as I charge to the gate of the cemetery.
I shove it open and sprint to the parking lot, where the large SUV sits, waiting for me. I look into the windshield and see two males sitting in there. One completely unrecognizable and one familiar. But I tell myself that it’s not possible. There’s no way it could be him.
As I sidle up next to the SUV, I open the driver’s door and grab the faceless man. I throw him to the ground and then fall to my knees to punch him. The punches are fast and ruthless. I can hear the thumping echoing through the cold December air.
I can hear the cries of Kayla, begging me to stop and come back. But again, I ignore them. I continue to punch the man until my hands are bloodied, and I’m not sure if it’s mine or his. Remembering the second guy, I spin up to my feet and make a step to the car only to stop as the barrel of a 9mm is aimed right between my eyes. My body freezes. My blood runs cold, and I am faced with the frightening reality that I am going to die.
My eyes flicker over to who is holding the gun, and right when I take in his face, the trigger is pulled, and a loud, resonating boom sounds.
I gasp, throwing my twisted comforter off my bed, panting as sweat drips down my forehead. I’m overheated; however, goosebumps rise on my skin as chills run down my spine. Eyes wide, I look at the foot of my bed to see Kyle standing there, tears rolling down his cheeks.
“Oh my God,” I whisper. Kyle nods his head. In confirmation? In understanding? “Kyle…” I go to ask if who I saw in my dream was correct, but I don’t get a chance. With one final tear shed, Kyle disappears in front of me.
I feel my breathing become short as I begin to hyperventilate. I look around my room, trying to figure out what to do. I’m having a panic attack. Of course I’m having a panic attack. Anyone who just dreamed about their best friend killing their brother—killing me, actually—would be having one.