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I laugh at this woman and I can see a switch being flipped. “I swear you are such a dark cloud.”
“I had everything to live for then. Now I have nothing,” she says nonchalantly. The woman pushes the car harder, increasing the speed. Tears fall down her perfectly made-up face. “They have frozen my assets, my accounts. I can’t sell my house. If we don’t fix this soon, then I will have nothing left.”
“Well, you should’ve listened to me when I told you how to set Mitchell up! You were so headfirst in your girlfriend’s pussy that you couldn’t see the bigger picture! You let her into your head! Don’t blame me. You became a pathetic whore!” I antagonize her. Trying to throw her off her game so she will make a mistake.
She grunts at my response, clearly not what she expected me to say. I was a lot nicer when we first met, but now… not so much. I am gripping the oh-shit handle a bit too hard as we are driving down this winding road. This woman has realized that she has nothing to live for. Pressing her foot down on the gas pedal as she is going into the curve, she’s playing chicken with gravity, which has me hoping that God grants me mercy after this.
The sharp curve sign ahead gives fair warning. “Sharp curve!” I point out.
Allison seems to look at this as a challenge. She presses down on the pedal harder. She is inviting death to the party and I will be damned if this drunk takes me out. I know the statistics about drinking and driving. The drunk driver is usually too intoxicated to know what is happening… they usually walk away with no injuries. No—not on my watch.
As the curve approaches, I slide my hand over the armrest behind her arm, carefully pushing on the seat belt buckle, releasing the latch. I sigh with relief and it is a moment before sadness fills my heart.
“You ruined everything!” she screams.
“You came to me! This was your idea!” I yell back. “Don’t blame me for your selfishness!”
“You bitch!” she screams, throwing her arm across my chest with a closed fist. She hits me a few times and I can feel my chest burning from the contact.
I close my eyes and scream in pain. Feeling the car swerve back and forth, I open my eyes to see Allison struggling to gain control of my car. She is intoxicated and is too trusting of her abilities. I try to reach over to help steady the steering wheel and her ear-piercing screams have me jerking my hands back to my seat belt.
I close my eyes and brace for the impact, the moment of my demise. Shit, her demise or my demise, that’s all it is… the end.
The thought of Adam flashes through my mind and how he is sitting somewhere in this world waiting for me. I let the tears fall. It’s ironic, feeling so much love for someone only to be driven to death by a narcissistic, high-society sorority girl. The mental pain of being separated from Adam has become too much.
And Kevin…oh god, Kevin! My poor brother has been through too much! I let out a sob, thinking about the pain my brother already deals with, and this will only hinder his path of healing.
I am not sure which is a more painful thought. Love of my life and the man who protected me versus the man who raised me, giving up everything just so I had a chance at life.
Her screams, the sound of metal clashing together, the smell of smoke and burned rubber, the feeling of being jostled around, then crushed, and the smell of burning leaves, and I drop into an incoherent state. Darkness surrounds me while anger settles in. I am in a delirious state of mind. I can’t fathom what has happened.
My eyes refuse to open, and my body is motionless. Is this it? Is this what death feels like?
CHAPTER 36
THE ARTICLE
Adam
The senseless murder of the goddess that held me up in the pits of hell. The woman who slaughtered the crowd that spoke to me and tricked me into not ending my time. She gave me purpose…
“The car swerved all over the road and the owner of the vehicle, Reese Grafton, attempted to overcorrect, causing the vehicle to crash into the guardrail. She was ejected from the vehicle and her body was found not far from the accident. The responders were not able to make identification until blood work came back, confirming the body to be that of Reese Grafton.
“Reese Grafton worked with the disgraced family, Mitchell and Allison DuPont, and it is believed that Allison DuPont, who is professionally known as Allison Dodson, is to blame for the accident. An altercation between the two women is believed to have started at DuPont’s lakeside home before the accident occurred. Authorities have confirmed blood to have been found in the kitchen area and there was a strong smell of cleaning products having been used. Allison DuPont is currently on the run from law enforcement and if the public has any information, they are encouraged to contact authorities.”
My fingers constrict around the news article and I want to burn the entire world down. Murder anyone and everyone who had anything to do with touching a hair on her body. I’ve had my contact put feelers out for Allison, but he hasn’t got back to me. I swear to whichever god you pray to that Allison will die a slow, painful, and egregious death. All the different ways of torture excite the inner demon in me. Knives could create beautiful artwork with precision. A gun could make her skin blush with pain. A bomb could fill her with a starburst fit for any major event. A towel could cover her face while buckets of water fall into her open mouth—drowning her soul for the devil to devour.
I can’t believe that my love is gone. I am enraged at myself that I became complacent and walked away! For a stupid fucking game. She was in my arms, and in a freeing state of mind, I thought that this little game of cat and mouse would be fun.
She was in my arms!
This has to be a mistake. This isn’t real. Fuck this life if she isn’t a part of it.
My mind is spiraling backward, unable to grasp reality. The deadly thoughts from before have come back, stronger than ever. The voices are louder and angrier than before. My fingers gently touch parts of the raised skin from my self-inflicted mutilation, and like before, it is numb. She made me feel every tingle in and on my body that I previously only thought of as dead skin.
I am standing in the parking lot of the cemetery trying to build the courage to go to the gravesite.
“Aaahh!” I scream. Slamming my fist against the side of the car. Repeatedly, but it still holds no relief.
