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Fuck!
I throw the joint away and jump into my car, driving back home in a speed I’ve never done before.
I arrive in five minutes sharp. All the time, I keep calling her over and over again.
Then I call Kir and he says he’s spending the night with his friend.
That makes me hit the steering wheel as soon as I hang up on him. He’s been her balance, and the one she’s looked at when she’s had those destructive thoughts.
Now that he isn’t there, there’s nothing that stops her.
Don’t you dare, Green. Don’t you fucking dare.
I swerve the car to the Reed’s driveway and barge outside, not bothering to close the Porsche’s door.
I don’t pretend to be clueless as I hit in the code to their house. I’ve seen her put it a thousand times. Besides, Kir often forgets it and I have to help him.
No one greets me when I step inside. That bitch Jeanine must be in her studio, and Mari is probably fast asleep.
I hit in the code again to shut off the alarm, then I ascend the stairs two steps at a time.
There’s been this something in my chest since I read her text. Something morbid and dark and so fucking wrong.
Don’t.
Don’t.
Don’t.
I pause outside her room, my fingers hesitant as I push the door open.
There hasn’t been a day where I forgot where her room is or how we used to sit and watch shows together, or how she used to tell me jokes that weren’t funny, but I laughed anyway because her expression was adorable.
The fact I’m coming back here under these circumstances is like a jab straight to the groin.
“Kimberly.” Her name catches in my throat as my feet slowly drag on the floor.
No answer.
“I’m coming in.”
Still no reply.
I step into her room, and there’s no one there. Just her made-up bed and the open wardrobe that’s filled with green clothes.
Instead of releasing a breath of relief, I’m unable to breathe at all. My lungs burn as I head to the bathroom, a strange premonition telling me she’s there.
“Kimberly?” I call in a helpless try to get an answer. Or a sound.
Anything from her would do.
I drag my feet to the entrance and the worst-case scenario materialises in front of me.
Blood.
So much fucking blood.
Kimberly sits on the floor beside the toilet, her back leaning against the wall, and she’s surrounded by bags of crisps, pills, and a bottle of alcohol.
