Page 21 of On Your Life

Hello??

Fox

Sorry for leaving you but damn you have left me stranded plenty of times dude.

The line of green texts lights up my screen. I understand that he’s probably pissed but he’ll get over it. I was tired of waiting on him to leave, the damn social butterfly was nowhere to be found and I was exhausted.

Coffee spews out of my mouth as I take the first sip.

Fuck that’s hot.

I drop a cube of ice in it, watching it disappear beneath the surface before picking up the phone to call him. This silent treatment bullshit isn’t going to work.

Before I can dial the number my phone lights up.

INCOMING CALL: CONNER’S MOM

My heart drops to my stomach. She never calls me. Dread settles heavily in my chest as I hit answer.

“Mrs. Knight?” I answer.

Something in the back of my head gnaws at me, like some part of me already knows something is wrong.

“Are you sitting down?” she asks through sobs.

“Yeah,” I lie.

Spit it the fuck out bitch.

I have never cared for her. Conner has had to pay her rent for the past several years to keep her from being left out in the street, thanks to her new found drug habit. Ever since her husband died, she can’t seem to do anything but wreak havoc in other people’s lives. Probably keeps her occupied.

“Conner’s dead.”

The words come through the phone speaker, but they don’t register. For a moment they’re just sounds, nothing more.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I say, my anger rising.

“They found his body in the creek behind his house.”

This can’t be fucking happening. The bitch is high again and making shit up.

“Why would you even dream up some shit like this, Tina?” My hand is shaking so badly I almost drop the phone. “It’s nine in the fucking morning and you’re calling me spewing bullshit.”

“It’s not bullshit Fox, the police showed up to my goddamn apartment this morning!” she yells between heavy breaths.

Something cold crawls down my spine.

“Fuck this and fuck you, you selfish bitch.”

My phone clatters against the wall. I don’t even bother grabbing it as I run out the front door.

The drive is a blur. I don’t remember getting behind the wheel. I barely remember the roads beneath me. One second I’m at home and the next I'm turning down a familiar street.

And I regret it immediately.

Police cars and news vans fill the small cul-de-sac where Conner’s house sits. Police in vests move between vehicles and dogs search throughout the surrounding woods. My heart pounds so hard I think I may vomit.

It can’t be true. It just fucking can’t.