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“Ethan. What the hell is going on?” I ask, not taking my eyes off the stranger either.
“I told you I’d introduce you to your family, didn’t I? This is Chandler Carlisle-Bent. Your uncle.”
Mywhat?
I feel the blood drain from my face. Chandler’s lips curve upward into a bored half-smile that doesn’t go near his eyes. He shifts his attention to picking at a cuticle
“Ethan. What is this?”
“Big day, I hear,” Chandler says lazily as the car pulls away from the curb. Something in me snaps, and I know I need to get out of there. Away from him. Away from both of them.
I lunge over Ethan’s lap, grasp the door handle to open the door. Ethan grabs hold of me, fingers digging into already bruised flesh.
“I thought you said you were going to behave,” he mutters close to my ear. “Hold her.”
Chandler’s hands close over my arms and he draws me backward as Ethan reaches into his pocket and casually takes out one of those syringes.
“Let me go. Let me out!”
The door is locked. Of course it is. I glance up as the divider between the front and back seats goes up. Not that it matters. Not that the driver would help me. He barely glances into the rear-view mirror.
“I warned you, Phee,” Ethan says, gesturing to Chandler over my head.
I glance at Chandler. His expression is unreadable, hard but I know one thing for sure. They don’t like each other. Don’t trust each other. I wonder what brought them together. What they each have to gain out of this strange joining of forces.
My head is spinning. All this is new information and I can’t make heads or tails of it. I don’t know what is true, what is a lie. I struggle against Chandler’s grip as Ethan looms with that syringe.
“I swear, it’s almost like you don’t hear me at all,” Ethan says.
“Please, Ethan!" He draws nearer, a drop of cool liquid dropping onto my neck.
“Time has run out for you and for me, Phee. You forgot who we are. Who my father is. Who I am. You are alone. You are completely alone. Silas fucked you, then he fucked you over and left. Your father, if he is that at all, is a lying piece of shit. Hell, maybe all fathers are pieces of shit. Regardless, it’s high time forme to get what I’m due for a change, don’t you think?”
“Please!” But before I can say more, I feel the prick of the needle, the sting of whatever it is in the barrel being injected into me. The almost immediate feeling of weight and weightlessness at once. Of limbs growing heavy. Of an emptying of my mind.
I open my mouth to say something. I’m not sure what. But as I’m righted and flop onto Ethan’s shoulder, I see Chandler’s face, watch his eyes grow huge, hear Ethan curse just before something slams into us hard and in an almost surreal way, the car veers off the road, the screech of brakes and the sickening sound of metal crunching against metal send shockwaves through me. I’d scream if I could, but I can’t get my voice to work, can barely keep my eyes open. I’m thrown across the seat then back as the car spins out of control. I’m dazed, trying to find something, anything to hold on to. When the sedan slams against a pole and finally comes to a stop, my head crashes against the window and I’m stunned, dizzy, spots dancing before my eyes.
The car horn blares, both driver and passenger airbags inflated. I blink, look over at Chandler who groans, look at Ethan, who is still.
Something warm slides down my temple and I reach up to touch it. My fingers come away bloody. Time slows down. Someone throws the door open, and I turn my head to see, ringing in my ears making itimpossible to hear, but there, leaning his head in, is Silas.
Silas furious.
Silas screaming something I can’t hear over all the other noises as I try to stay alert.
He reaches in, grabs Ethan. He hauls him out of the car. Ethan or Silas or both curse. Silas slams Ethan against the side of the car. I hear Ethan’s cry as Silas pounds his fist across his face. Chandler’s eyes open and focus on me as my own focus fades but then Silas reappears, and I’m trying so hard to keep my eyes open. He pulls me across the seat, lifts me out.
“Jesus. O. Are you all right? Can you hear me? Ophelia? Can you hear me?”
I can, but his voice is fading. Sirens blare in the distance, background noise. I reach up to touch him, touch that scar on his temple, but I can’t. My arm is too heavy. I blink, try to focus. I think I manage to say his name. But the look on his face, there’s something wrong. He’s saying something. It’s my name. He’s screaming it. Screaming my name.
I don’t hear it though.
I don’t hear anything at all as the vast echo of pitch-black oblivion swallows me whole.
