Since Gio died, I’ve tried to be more accepting towards everything in life, realising how fleeting life is and to actually embrace the smallest of things. Well, I don't have that tattoo on my hip for no reason.
Still, I like to mess with Evan as much as he likes to mess with me.
“What do you want, Branson?” I ask when the call connects, talking through a grin.
“Miss Voss, you’re going to have to put the phone down. We’re preparing to take off,” the pilot on the intercom calls.
“Yes, one second,” I shout, covering the end of my phone.
“Where are you?” Evan asks when I press the phone to my ear again.
“On the plane to Denver. My mom told me to go to the hospital. Why?”
“Have you taken off?” he asks.
“Just about to,” I reply, looking at the runway as the plane starts to move slightly. I’ve always enjoyed flying, but I like watching the take off the most and Evan is ruining my ritual.
“Miss Voss,” the guy over the intercom calls, warning me again.
“Your mom did?” Evan asks, stuttering slightly. I wish he could see me rolling my eyes right now.
“Yes, Branson, my mother who gave birth to me. Now, I've got to go. I'm turning my phone off so I can try and catch up on some sleep,” I explain. It's been a tiring day with exam stress, as well as the project almost being completed, and this random phone call is not helping.
“No, Scarlett-”
I cut him off. “You’re awfully clingy for someone I've just forgiven. Remember your place, Ev,” I say as I end the call. Can I not get one moment of peace? I shut off my phone, sinking further into the leather seat and close my eyes.
The hospital is more eerie than I remember. It’s usually pretty quiet in my dad’s ward because most people are in the same situation as him. I walk down the abhorrent, nauseating, yet once again irresistible hospital hallways that are as narrow as closest as the bacteria flies in the air. My dad's room is the last in this corridor and I try to pick up my pace to get out of the unsettling chill, safe within the comfort of his presence.
I reach his door and the curtains are drawn shut, no doubt trying to shield him from the fluorescent lights. My mom read somewhere that the lighting can affect even comatose people, so she often tries to be extra careful even though I’m not sure if it’s really that big of a deal.
“Look, Mom, if this is just another one of your games…” I say, laughing as I open the door.
“Hi, Scarlett.”
The voice doesn’t belong to my mother.
Sweat instantly begins to gather on my neck and chest as I look at the sight before me. Lucas is standing beside my dad’s bed as he sleeps peacefully. He's not an intimidating guy. Well, he shouldn’t be since he’s supposed to be dead and all. I've never had a reason not to like him, but after that weird phone call the other day, he’s been freaking me out more than usual.
“What are you doing here? Where's my mom?” I quiz, shutting the door behind me.
“Why don’t you take a seat?” he says, chillingly calm.
“I’m good,” I say, holding my chin high. I refuse to be afraid of him. He looks sick. Like he hasn’t eaten in weeks. “Where’s my mom?” I ask again.
He swallows. “She’s fine. She's safe.”
I step closer in the room, trying to keep calm and levelled while my heartbeat starts to pick up. I can hear it everywhere, beating rapidly in my ears. “Why wouldn’t she be safe?”
“Your boyfriend just couldn’t stop digging.” His voice is rough like sandpaper, the sound scratching against my scalp. He’s not looking at me. He’s staring right at my dad.
“What are you talking about?” I whisper softly.
“She wasn’t supposed to be on the plane,” he says, rubbing his hands on his temples as if he’s trying to erase a memory. He turns to me now and I blink rapidly, my throat suddenly dry. I don't reply. I don't know if I'm supposed to. “It was supposed to be Gio, but he messed up the plan. He was the one that was supposed to die that night. Not Sara. She was innocent.”
“What- What are you talking about?” I ask, my voice shaking. His eyes are disturbingly blue as he stares right at me, scratching his chin. I stumble a little, holding tightly onto the medicine cart near the door when I notice the thick black object in his hand, tapping against his thigh.
He has a gun.
