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“I told you kids to stay away from my house,” he says, eyeing us angrily.
“What did you do with Paulette and Logan?” I demand.
He glances toward the car, and my knees go weak. “I didn’t do anything to them. Why don’t you come over here, and I’ll prove it. They’re right there, safe and sound.” He opens the door to the back seat, gesturing inside for them to wave at us. “Say hi to your friends, guys.”
The silhouette in the back doesn’t move.
“Paulette!” Mara shouts, remaining in place. “Can you hear us?”
“Paulette, are you okay?” I call, my voice hoarse and raspy from the tears burning the back of my throat.Please, no.
There is no movement in the car. No response.
Whoever is in the back seat doesn’t budge an inch.
The man steps toward us, and we move back.
“Did you kill them?” Austin asks. “Like you killed Ethan and the other couple?”
His eyes widen, but I can’t tell if he’s surprised we know. He shakes his head, cocking it to the side slightly. “You snooped.”
“He was our friend,” Austin says, his voice cracking. “He was my best friend.”
“He didn’t do anything to you,” I add, as it sets in further what this man has taken from me. Everything. This weekend, one of my closest friends, a future I once envisioned.
“How could you possibly know that?” he asks, tilting his head to the side.
“What do you want from us?” Mara asks, her voice shaking from where she stands next to me. I feel her hand slip into mine. “What do you want?”
He sighs. “I want to help you.”
“What do you mean?” Memphis steps forward in front of us all.
“It doesn’t have to be like this. Not for you, not for them.” He points back toward his house. “It was never about hurting you. Any of you.”
I take a step forward to stand next to Memphis, then another small step, leaning over so I can see inside the car but keeping myself at a safe distance from the man. I squint, trying to understand what I’m seeing.
From where I’m standing, I realize he was telling the truth. I can just make out Paulette’s head resting against the window. As if she has passed out.
Or been knocked out.
Chills crawl up my arms.
“Oh my god.” I rush forward without thinking. “Paulette! Paulette!”
The man grabs me before I reach the car, bending his knees to brace himself against the force of my weight. Memphis is there within a second, followed by Mara and Austin. The man struggles to shove me in the car, and I realize Logan is there too, his head resting in her lap.
“Let her go,” Memphis shouts, trying to pull him off of me. I put my feet up against the side of the car, refusing to be shoved inside as I try to process the horror of what I’m looking at, letting it sink in for the first time.
They’re dead.
Both of my friends have deep, thick red lines across their throats—a single carmine slash for each of them that ended their lives. In the dark night, the cuts are practically black. Thick, sticky blood has dripped down their necks and onto their clothes. Bile rises in my throat.
I can’t breathe.
They can’t breathe.
He slashed their throats.
