Page 15 of A Tragic Melody

“Dying young is the dream, isn’t it?”

She sounds so amused as she says it. Without a second care or concern. It makes my whole body tense as anger boils in my veins.

My eyes snap shut as I try not to picture my sixteen-year-old sister in a ball of flames, and fail. I feel my back hit the wall as I remember the funeral with closed caskets because they were so badly burnt.

My sister didn’t dream of dying young. She had dreams of going to college, getting married, and having children. Talked about being a fashion designer and using her money to open homeless shelters that focused on providing stable environments. She wanted a full life of adventure and fun. Wanted to change the world.

Tuesday doesn’t give a shit about any of that. All she cares about is having fun and getting high.

The world isn’t fair. Life isn’t fair.

Tuesday doesn’t deserve the air in her fucking lungs, much less the toxins in her bloodstream.

Her comment eases any doubts I had about destroying her career. I no longer feel bad about my plans. I need to get to the top to honor my sister’s memory, and robbing Tuesday of her time in the sun isn’t worth my guilt.

“Wyatt?” Tuesday’s voice cuts through my thoughts like a dull blade. When my eyes open back up, she is standing much closer to me, studying me like there is going to be an exam. “Was it something I said? Are you craving a little pick-me-up?” She smirks.

“No,” I snap. “Just wondering how someone so pathetic gets to live while countless others have to die.”

It’s harsh, I know. The flash of pain that comes over her face confirms it. But quickly, the pain is replaced with amusement. I don’t like having to be mean, but winning is all that matters right now. I may have gone too far, but to beat Tuesday, I have to play dirty.

And what I said was the truth.

She laughs, leaning closer to me. Her long hair falls forward, brushing across my arm. Her gray eyes are striking, even as the dark pupils take up more space than is natural.

“Has no one told you? Life isn’t fair, Wyatt. And if you want to hurt my feelings, you’re going to have to fuck me first.” She grins, backing away. “I bruise easy, but I don’t die easy. You wouldn’t be the first to try, though.” Tossing her blonde hair over her shoulders as she straightens up, she stares me down.

“Good to know. I like having competition.”

She smiles as a little blood drips down from her nose. Her fingers wipe at it, smearing it into her skin to add to what was already there. “Glad to know we are on the same page. Then they can call it a fair fight.”

“Nothing about this is going to be fair.”

“Guess that’s true.” She nods. “Nothing is fair in love and war.”

“This may turn into a war, but love will have nothing to do with it.”

“We’ll see about that. You look like the kind of guy who doesn’t fall easy, but I bet when you do, you fall hard. I can’t wait to hear the thud.” Spinning around, strands of her hair hit me in the face. “Let the games begin.”

The girl is feral. It’s slightly scary to have the line drawn out in the open. At least all the cards are on the table now. Might make things harder in the long run, but I can play the long game if I have to.

She broke first. Called it what it is. She told me about her plan, giving me the upper hand.

Maybe the drugs made her forget about subtlety or my words hurt more than she let on, but either way, she handed me over a loaded gun.

She seems unaware, but I’m already winning this game.

CHAPTER EIGHT

My body is buzzing. It’s literally shaking. Doing ecstasy plus coke was probably not a great idea, but I couldn’t help myself.

Hendricks has sent me ten text messages telling me how disappointed he is with me running around with Derrick. My skin itched as I read over all the insults he threw at me. Of all the ways he could ruin me and end me. Of all he has done for me, like giving me a career should give him the right to my body.

It’s not like he doesn’t fool around. The man has a family, for crying out loud. He knows I get around on tour, but he hates hearing about it. And I made sure he heard about it.

His text messages make me ill. I hate remembering everything he has on me. All the things he has done to me. I needed something to take away that feeling, distract me from those memories.

My impatience caused a nosebleed. Wyatt witnessing that wasn’t part of my plan, but it got me some information.