Page 118 of Fighting the Odds

“Good choice. Perhaps there is hope that you won’t become like your father. Just remember, if you ever speak of what happened here, we’ll be back and there won’t be a choice then.” His stern face and clenched jaw tell me he means exactly what he says.

“You don’t have to worry. That’s not my father, just some stranger who pretended to be.”

“Then get out of here. When you hear it, wait thirty minutes, then make the call and give the performance of a lifetime. Got it?”

“Yeah.”

I take one last look back at my father and walk to the door.

I’m actually happy that he’s about to die. The world will be free of the monster he is.

Shutting the door behind me, I make my way back up to my room and sit down on the edge of my bed, chewing on my nails.

I’m thankful my mom chose tonight to be out of the house, so she wasn’t put in the middle of it. I don’t think she could sit back and let it happen like I am. Maybe I’m just dead inside.

But I owe this to Sierra.

I don’t know how much time has passed before I hear the gunshot. But once I do, I check the time on my watch and wait.

Chapter 54

Sierra

My eyelids are so heavy I can barely open them. What’s going on?

Where am I?

A familiar scent hits me, but I feel like I’m in a haze.

I can hear voices, ones I know and trust.

“When is she going to wake up?”

“I don’t know.”

“Cyrus?” My throat is scratchy as my eyes finally flutter open.

“Right here, baby. Can one of you get her some water?”

“What happened? When did I get here? Where’s Arizona?”

“Shh, it’s okay. You’re in your apartment. You’re safe. He never did anything to you. You’re out of it because he drugged you. Arizona is at the hotel with Bash. She woke up during the night and is fine.”

I let out a sigh of relief and slowly sit up. My body feels like lead, reminding me of how I felt that morning.

“Did they get him?” I ask.

Colton steps back in the room, handing me a glass of water. They all look at each other nervously, and I know there's something they’re not telling me.

“He got away, didn’t he?”

“No, he didn’t. He was found last night. He committed suicide. There were other flash drives of girls. He did the same thing to them. Wesley was the one who found him.”

I sit there, stunned. He’s gone. I had a part in it.

But I don’t feel bad.

Does that make me a horrible person?

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