Page 266 of Heart So Hollow

Twitch, sniff, pinch, press…

I don’t hear anything of the graveside service, because it doesn’t matter. I know who Evie is, and I know why she’s not here anymore. When it’s over, and everyone finally starts drifting back toward the limestone church up the hill, I don’t follow. I’d rather hang out with her, like usual. I stroll up to the edge of the casket, thinking about how she’s right on the other side of the glossy wood.

But soon, I feel Bowen’s stifling presence next to me, invading my space with his vile existence like it’s his goddamn job.

He takes a drag off his cigarette, “I’m sorry for your loss, Col.”

I blink and exhale slowly, concentrating on the mahogany wood grain and thinking about how good that cigarette would sound searing into his eyeball.

Feeding off the tension, I keep staring straight ahead, “She told me about you—about how you treated her after she got into school.”

He flicks his cigarette ash onto the astroturf, “You tell anyone else?”

“Yep.”

“I doubt it’ll matter much,” he blows a puff of smoke into the air, “let me know how it goes.”

Bowen has no conscience; his pride is the only thing he cares about. I may be a selfish and conceited asshole like him, but I still have something resembling a moral compass, regardless of how bent and broken it is. But the question still lingers—why would Bowen go out of his way to do any of this? From what Evie said, he was content to show up when he wanted to and blow her off when he didn’t, just like every other girl. What set him off so bad? Unless…

Sounds like he thinks you’re going to abandon him and he’s freaking out…

I glance at Bowen out of the corner of my eye, staring silently at Evie’s casket, and let out a scoff, “She told me she was going to dump your ass that night,” I say with a hint of amusement, “become your summertime sadness. Shit,” I laugh under my breath, “so this is what happens to the only girl who could make Bo Garrison feel anything…”

That one finally brings him to life. “What the fuck do you know about it, Col?” Bowen spits with indignance, “Maybe I was going to marry her, give her my last name so everyone knows she’s mine. And maybe she still is.”

When I think I’ve heard everything…

It’s the most idiotic thing he could’ve said; Bowen Garrison finding some nice girl from high school, marrying her, and settling down in Canaan to have a bunch of babies and go to church every Sunday with his parents.

Don’t make me laugh.

“We’re the same, Col,” he growls, “except I won, because I made her love me.”

“Face it, Bo,” I say with a cruel smile, “you wouldn’t know what to do with it even if she did. You tell me you’d marry her but send me a homemade porno just as a fuck you? What a keeper…”

“Like you?” Bowen turns his whole body and glares at the side of my face, “Her bodyguard stepbrother loves her so much he’ll stare at a picture of her tits while some other bitch sucks him off.” He clenches his teeth, “Do it, Col. Show everyone the video of me fucking your whore sister. Bet Mommy and Daddy’ll be proud. It still doesn’t prove much,” he leans into my ear with a whisper, “only that I’m her one and only.”

I slowly turn to look at him, inches from the side of my face.

“Hope you kept it,” he lilts, “at least you can still recognize her face while you jerk off to it.” Bowen turns back to Evie’s casket as my fingers curl into a fist, “But if you didn’t, it’s fine,” he shrugs, “you still have one sister left for me.”

Just like last time on the soccer field, Bowen doesn’t see it coming. I hit him so hard that I break two fingers, but it doesn’t stop me from throwing him to the ground and splitting his head open on a headstone. By the time anyone notices and comes tearing back down the hill, there’s blood everywhere and we both looked like we clawed our way out of the graves we were fighting on. In the end, it takes four guys to pull me off Bowen and two ambulances to cart us off the ER.

Who has the audacity, the disrespect, the complete and utter irreverence to beat the shit out of someone in a cemetery next to his sister’s open fucking grave?

Me.

Bowen’s blood is smeared over my hand, across my white button-down shirt, and I wish it filled my mouth. I want to taste it, drink it, take my pound of flesh and feast on it like a monster deep inside a dark cave. I want to rip his chest open, snap his ribs, and tear out his empty fucking heart, rotting from the inside out.

Because now I’m hollow. And there’s nothing that can fill me again except the sick satisfaction of vengeance.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE

Brett

One Year Ago

“These are torture tactics,” Barrett utters as she sets down the letter from Emily Fox and pours us three fingers each from a bottle of Town Branch, “do you want to go to the police?”

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