WHEN RYAN ASKED IF I went home, flashes of my parents filled my mind. Then the police officers entered the diner, my mind connected the two and I thought I was going to pass out. Darkness closed in around me as they came closer. Ryan’s hands grounded me. I was grateful he didn’t pry into my total freak out. Everything reminds me of them, waking up and not receiving my dad’s daily inspirational texts. Something as simple as pulling my clothes on reminds me of the shopping trip Mom took me on to buy them. Making breakfast reminds me I will never taste her home cooking again. My car reminds me of Dad. The smell of the warm air as the sun graces the surface, heating the concrete, reminds me of summer vacations. I can’t escape them and I need to because with every good memory of them comes the memory of their ugly deaths, their pain, their fear. My pain, my fear. I can’t believe their killer touched me. The hands that stole the lives of the only two people I loved held my life in his palm and didn’t take it. Unless he did, and this is what hell is.
I swipe the stray tear that leaks down my cheek. I need to numb it out. My phone chimes to alert me to missed calls and texts from Markus. I can’t believe he uploaded his number before finally giving me back my phone.
“I need you here.”
“You’re being a brat.”
“I need the codes to the safe.”
“The lawyers won’t speak to me. They say Dad’s lawyer is on vacation”
He makes me want to scream and tear at his flesh until he feels some kind of pain. How can he be so cold and selfish?
I throw my phone on the desk. My dorm room offers no comfort. My dad paid for me to have my own room so I would be alone, and God, I really am alone. Empty space like my ever-growing empty life. I haven’t made any friends except for Ryan, and my friends at home have all flown the nest and are out living their lives. I haven’t even heard from Zane. Home. I guess it isn’t home anymore, it’s a crime scene. A grave, a nightmare that has imprinted itself onto every memory I have of that house.
The guy from the party, the one who knocked me on my ass that day, is the one thing I grab onto. When my thoughts stray, I think of him and how shocked I was at how rude someone could be. I memorized every detail so I can focus only on bumping into him that day. His earthy scent, the baritone of his voice, the structure of his stance; that’s how I knew it was him at the party, and then he turned out to be an even bigger asshole then I first thought. I can’t believe I lost my inhibitions and kissed him. He’s beautiful up close but his eyes are guarded. Urgh! Why does he have to be a contradiction?
I grab my wash kit to take a shower. I let the tears fall, hoping they will take the emptiness with them. I feel so lost, willing myself to melt into the water and let it carry me away as it runs down the drain and out to sea. Lonely is more than a feeling, it’s a manifestation weighing heavily on my heart, a burden crushing, suffocating me, consuming my thoughts. You’re all alone, you have no one. You are no one’s. It’s on my skin, coating me in a cold, clammy mist, taking my warmth. Why would someone do this? Why them? Why me? Why? I need to shut my brain off.
I towel myself dry and slip into skinny jeans, a black tank top and biker boots. I dry and straighten my hair, leaving my face free of makeup. My feet carry me in a haze to the bar, my mind functioning on auto pilot, commanding myself to stop thinking, to just exist.
By the time Ryan and Sean arrive I’m drinking my fourth shot. I wave them over to the bar and signal for the bartender to refill.
“Hey, you started without us?” Sean asks.
I grin, the warmth of the alcohol taking the chill from my haunted spirit.
“Yep, so you better catch up.” I slap the bar and throw another shot back. The bartender raises an eyebrow and cocks his head to Ryan.
“Yeah, fill her up,” Ryan tells him.
I scowl at the bartender; he’s cute with messy blond hair, defined arms, and blue eyes. “I don’t need permission,” I warn him with a glare and hand my credit card to him. “Keep them coming.”
He smiles and takes my card, wrapping his hand over mine, keeping my attention on him. “I was just looking out for you, sweetheart. You’ve had quite a few, you’ll be numb soon if you keep this up.”
I pull my hand back. “That’s the plan.”
The humid air sticks to me, thick with sweat and the essence of sexual tension and alcohol. The thumping baseline from the DJ, Sean and Ryan’s hands encompassing my hips, one in front one behind, veils out all other thoughts. I’m floating on a cloud of intoxication.
“Let’s go back to my place,” Ryan shouts in my ear.
He grabs my hand, and my feet follow as he pulls me through the club. The fresh air hits my face and fills my lungs. My head swims, my vision blurs, and my legs feel like they are made of jello. A giggle erupts from my chest and then turns into chest-shaking sobs. “Hey, shh. What’s wrong?” I know its Ryan cooing in my ear and I let the comfort of his closeness engulf me. My eyelids flutter closed.
The little men inside my head trying to hammer their way out make me groan and stir. My mouth is so dry I have to peel my lips apart. Last night rushes into my mind, then the reason I wanted to get wasted pushes through. Mom, Dad, gone. Murdered.
I feel shattered, particles separate from my true being. Now I’m just dust on the wind, ash on a burned out flame. The hand that wrapped around my throat in that house is still there, squeezing tight, robbing me of my soul.
I pull the blankets back and look around the unfamiliar room. It’s neat, almost too neat. My eyes sting from the crude exposure to the sun beaming through the open blinds. I slip my legs free from the bed and wince as my feet make contact with the cold wooden floor. Tiptoeing to the door I sigh with relief when the bathroom door is open just a couple feet from this room. I come face to face with a mirror as I enter, sending a shiver through my veins. My hands tremble; it’s the same whenever I look in a mirror since that night.
“It’s okay, Mel. You’re okay,” I reassure myself, and look back up into the mirror. I don’t recognise the distorted image looking back at me. My dark hair lacks its usual shine, my eyes are unfocused. God, I drank too much. I look down at the panties and tank top I’m wearing, a groan leaving my lips.
A shadow passes behind me and I freeze. It morphs into the form of a guy. Fear steals my breath, and my heart slows then picks up speed, beating erratically. A hand on my shoulder makes the contents of last night’s drinking rush out of me in a burning torrent. The sting in my throat makes my eyes water. The retching sends an ache through my ribs.
“Fuck, why does he bring women home with him?” the male grumbles behind me.
I spit, unladylike, into the sink and turn the tap to wash away the bile. I look up and stare. No way. His eyes are the color of gun metal fused with dark green flecks. His dark hair is swept back off his face. His white shirt is pulled from his slacks, a few buttons undone. My eyes seek out the strong muscle of his chest on display. I flick my eyes back to his and watch him as he gazes back at me.