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And then he's gone, and I'm left a broken mess once again.
I pace around the room, waiting for him to walk back through the door. For him to change his mind and take me up on my offer, but I know it's not coming. Wherever he's headed, he's more determined than I've ever seen him. There isn't a thing that could come out of my mouth that would deter him.
There's no denying the bad feeling I have about this. We might not have talked for the week, but I could see something changing in him over time. He slowly became more tense. The bags under his eyes got darker the longer he went without sleeping. He would even peek his head in to check on me at night when he thought I was sound asleep. I wasn't.
Today, though, was different. The confession that left his mouth was everything I wanted to hear, but it wasn't the way I wanted to hear it. It's like he was telling me so I knew. So, I always remembered. Like he wouldn't get a chance to tell me any other time, so it had to be now.
“I can't do this,” I say to myself and grab my phone out of my purse.
It takes a few rings before the person finally answers. “Amelia.”
“Where is he, Knox?” I demand.
He sighs heavily. “Mila.”
I shake my head, starting to cry once again. “Just tell me what he's doing. Where is he going?”
“I can't. I'm sorry.”
“Knox!” I scream. “He’s going to do something stupid! I know it! Just tell me!”
The sound of even him starting to get upset only sends up more red flags. “All you need to know is that he knows what he's doing. Okay? Just trust me.”
Nope. “Sorry. No can do.”
He calls my name as I hang up the phone, but I don't stop to hear what he has to say. I run up the stairs, taking them two at a time, and burst into Zayn's room. I haven't been in here since the day we broke up, but it still looks exactly the same. The only thing different are the multiple holes where it looks like he put his first right through the wall.
His computer rests on top of his desk. I open it quickly and type in the password. He had given it to me after my room burned down and I needed to use his computer to do an assignment before I got a new one. Thankfully, he hasn't changed it.
In a desperate attempt, I pull up his iCloud and mentally beg for him to be like every other stereotypical male—the kind who can't remember more than one password, so they just make them all the same damn thing. I type in the same thing that opens his computer and hold my breath as I hit enter.
By the grace of God, it works. The account logs in, and I instantly have access to his phone. The first thing I go to is his text messages. Maybe if Knox knows where he is, it was said in a text, but the last thing from Knox in here is from yesterday. There is, however, a number that looks oddly familiar.
I type it into my own phone and the hair on the back of my neck stands up when I see it's Blade. I open the text and feel as everything goes eerily quiet. There are so many texts from the last couple weeks, texts he never told me about. Pictures and videos of me while at school, all accompanied by threats of my life.
No! Zayn!
I scramble out of the text and over to the Find iPhone app. If he has his location on, it should show me where he is. It feels like it takes forever to load, and the spinning dial on the screen taunts me by stopping every couple of seconds. Finally, a map pops up, and it shows a dot moving down the street. A couple seconds later, it stops next to a house.
I type the street into my phone, grab the keys to his motorcycle off the desk, and run out the door.
I sit in my car in front of the abandoned house and grip the steering wheel. There's only a handful of places he could be, and this is one of them. Judging by Ray's bike sitting outside, they're here. All of them.
Out of all the things I imagined I'd be when I grew up, I never thought a murderer would be one of them. Despite not having the best home life, I always tried to do what was right. Sure, I smoke pot and party a lot, but I've always done decently well in school and managed to make good choices. If only I had known it would come down to this.
I know by walking in that door, one of two things are going to happen. Either I'm going to kill Blade, or he's going to kill me. There is no alternative. No happy ending. No other option for me. But regardless of what happens, it frees Amelia from all the dangers of him. His only incentive to hurt her is to get to me, and what good does that do if I'm not around to see it happen?
Taking out my phone, I dial 9-1-1.
“9-1-1, what's your emergency?”
“Yeah, I'd like to report some suspicious activity at the abandoned house on Hayfield Drive.”
The woman on the other line starts typing. “And what kind of suspicious activity are we talking about?”
“There's a few college-aged kids going in and out of the cellar, and I believe two of them are about to fight. It doesn't look good.”
“Okay, sir,” she says. “I have two officers on the way. Are you able to stay on the line with me?”
