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Conner tsks, rushing to my side and quickly packing my things, rolling my sleeping bag back into the cloth bag. After securing my backpack on my back, he carries my sleeping bag under his arm, holding me steady with the other as he opens the door.
“We’re going to make a break for it to the back door,” he says, but there’s fire roaring beyond my bathroom of solace.
A beam from above breaks and lands over what looks like a body lying on the floor in the living room, and I scream.
“We have to help him!” I sob, tugging on Conner’s arm.
Coughing wracks my body as Conner steps in front of me, deadpanning as he grits his teeth. “No one can help him. I need you to focus. If you want to live, you have to focus!”
I nod frantically.
Conner grabs hold of me again, dragging me to safety.
I give the body one backward glance before turning around and putting it out of my mind.
‘What the hell happened here tonight?’
One thing I do know is that I chose the wrong house to sleep in.
When we get outside, Conner immediately releases my hand but keeps moving toward a small black car on the street. When he ushers me inside, I find the eyes of a boy I know little about, Wesley Black. Normally when I see him in the halls, he wears a look that could make a Mack truck take a dirt road. But now he’s crying, tears making streaks down his cheeks.
“Take them to the penthouse,” Conner says to the driver. “Come back for me.”
“Yes, sir,” the driver replies.
“Conner, wait. I need to stay here in town. Where are you taking me? Hey!” I try to ask, but Conner slams the door, running back up toward the house.
When I look back out the back window, I swear I see Conner taking photos.
“What the hell?” I say more to myself than to Wes.
“Hell is what is to come,” he replies, sobbing after he gets it out.
“Conner! No!”
I sit up and look around the room. The chill of night is all I find, though. And Tigger and Piglet in a full-out paw war as they wrestle on the end of the bed.
Kicking off my covers, I pull my phone out of my hoodie and shuck it off. My sweaty skin hits the cold air and chills my bones.
There had been smoke. More than that, I’d been there while it was on fire. But I don’t know if I should trust my memories, being that, in the dream, I felt sluggish. Gage nearly killed me! Everything about Conner in my dream was odd. Where was Emery?
Why was Conner so calm?
Not once had he looked alarmed.
My phone vibrates and I look down to see an Instagram notification from some random follower liking a photo of my cats. But when my screen lights up, I see that I’ve missed fifteen calls from Emery, and my blood runs cold.
I swallow as I hit play on the only voicemail he left.
“I know what you’re thinking, but I haven’t called the cops. Carina, we need to speak. Even if it’s not face to face, I need to talk to you.” He sighs and then it cuts off.
I listen a few more times and note the shake in his voice.
Conner smelled like sex.
Conner helped me to safety.
Conner didn’t look afraid.
