Page 33 of The Unravelings

I stiffen against the tree, forcing myself to melt into the bark so I’m not seen.

“Get every goddamn camera you can get your techy hands on and find me the person wrecking Liv’s shit!” he shouts, hanging up the phone and forcing it into his small pocket.

Waffles whimpers the closer they get to me, causing Mack’s footsteps to stall. Silence descends on all of us. Me hiding behind the tree; them a few feet away after discovering my crimes. If he finds me here, he’ll finish the job he started five years ago. Or worse. He’ll drag me to their mansion and hold me hostage. Fuck. How did I get myself into this situation? Right, I let my emotions get the best of me.

I suck in several breaths, counting my erratic heartbeats as they pound in my chest, rapidly filling my ears with the constant thrum of beats.

Go home. Go home, I beg inside my brain. I’m not mentally equipped to confront him in the middle of the woods, because who else would have damaged the treehouse? Only the person standing near the scene of the crime.

Waffles’ whimpers fill the air again.

“I’m okay,” Mack grunts, hopefully petting the top of Waffle’s head. “I’m…okay.” More hesitant this time. Like he’s trying to convince himself he’s okay when he really isn’t. That makes two of us, asshole. He blows out several breaths, seeming to calm the rage inside him. But why does he care so much? “Someone is destroying what I love.” Emotion-filled whispers fill the forest air, turning bitter the moment they hit my ears. “Someone will pay,” he hiccups softly. “They’re trying to erase her, Boy. They’re taking pieces away from me. Again. And I—” He stops suddenly when his phone rings, and he answers in a steady voice. “Yeah, I’m coming.”

I bristle at his words. Destroyed what he loved? No. He’s the one who did that when he held me by the shoulder and forced me to my knees while Franco sliced my throat, and then they left me to die.

He destroyed our love. Everything about it. He doesn’t get to cry about me or my mom or my sister.

It’s his fault. He deserves to have my things broken and slashed.

Just like he left me.

I sag in relief, counting the steps it takes him until I no longer hear anything but the silence again. That was too close for comfort. Too fucking close for Mack and me. Even Waffles. But the earnest emotion in his voice has me off balance.

Getting too close to any of them right now is dangerous. I can’t risk glimpsing them until I know what they have in store for me. Kill me? Leave me be? Will JJ open his mouth and tell them I’m still out here?

The possibilities are endless.

As I make my way back to my dorm, the world passes me by. I’m a zombie on a mission. Get to my bed and don’t leave for a few days. Or hell, maybe forever. Sorry, Jonathan, I can’t complete this mission because I’m broken beyond repair now.

The moment I enter my empty dorm suite, go into my room, and lock my new lock, I send a quick message to all my professors that I’m sick and won’t be able to attend class for three days. That should be enough time to get my shit together, right? That should be plenty of time to gather myself and prepare to face the boys who murdered me.

9

Mack

Rage boils through every fucking molecule in my body, driving me forward with one promise on my mind—kill whoever destroyed the treehouse and make them my bitch. No amount of torture will suffice for what they’ve taken away from me. The memories. The fucking pillows shredded into nothing. The small trinkets Livy loved so damn much, smashed to smithereens.

Even the frilly curtains sit on the ground, torn and destroyed by someone’s hands.

First, someone destroys Olivia’s grave. That’s their first fucking offense. Now? Someone has touched the shrine I left for Liv. The things she kept there. They were all hers. She made that place our home away from home. The place we went to when times got to be too fucking much.

Fuck. Olivia was my home. No matter what, four walls surrounded me. Olivia was the bright shining light surrounding me in her goodness.

And then, she was gone.

Fuck. I stagger a step, rubbing at my temples. My muscles burn and ache from the five-mile run I took this morning, begging me to slow down. But I can’t. If I slow down, then my mind will lock me into a dark room and force me to face the ghosts haunting me. And I can’t fucking have that. Won’t. I refuse to think about all the bullshit that’s happened in my life and examine it too closely. It brings me nothing but pain.

Looking back, Waffles is right by my side as we trudge toward the graveyard for the final stint of our morning. His tongue lolls out of his mouth, drool dripping from his tongue.

“Thirsty, boy?” I ask softly, rubbing at his head. “We’ll stop for a visit and then go home.”

I look toward the direction of the graveyard with a heavy weight pressing down on my chest. My lungs almost seize inside me, failing to work, and leaving me gasping for air. Like always, when I’m near her final resting place.

Olivia.

My day begins and ends with her.

Today. Always. Forever. Our fucking motto. She may be gone from this plane of existence, but she’ll forever live in my fucking soul, attached to me in ways I can’t explain.