Page 134 of Diem

The vitriol is getting old and frankly, I’m starting to wonder if I ever knew the real Matt. All of which doesn’t fucking matter because there’s a killer out there who is more than likely my dad, with presumably some other freak stalking me. Gah.

“Matt,” I say, rubbing my forehead. “Why are you here?”

Getting through to the boy I once thought was my friend is useless. Somewhere along the way, he lost himself and I don’t have the energy to reach him.

“I have to tell you something.”

I eye him silently before waving my hand. Nodding, he says, “It’s about Dixie.”

“Okay,” I say slowly. What now?

“Look, she told me something. It was a long time ago. I think you should know.”

Dread crawls down my spine and I lean against the back of the couch. Do I want to know? This is already so fucked up.

“Maeve? She told me that she fucked Diem. They were, I don’t know, meeting up. She mentioned finding some shit about his world that she shouldn’t know. She was worried.”

His words batter my soul, but I need to process this alone. I can’t do it with Matt staring at me expectantly.

“Okay, thanks,” I whisper and his brows flap over his eyes.

“That’s it?” he says, and I shrug.

Throwing out his hand, he growls, “You’re so fucking delusional over him Mae. What’s it gonna take? Him confessing to her murder before you let it go?”

“Matt…” I don’t have the energy to fight and step to the door.

His mouth curls into a sneer and he shudders, saying, “Fuck you.”

Rubbing my aching chest, I watch him go. When he’s at the threshold, he pauses to say, “Why not me, Maeve?”

Staring at his stiff shoulders I say softly, “Because it’s always been him.”

He walks away without looking back and as soon as I close the door, I drop to the floor.

Why not him, indeed.

∞∞∞

Later, I’m lying on my bed, nursing a headache when I hear a weird thump downstairs.

Rising, I tiptoe to the landing and stare into the darkness. It could be my parents; I did doze off for a while but would I have missed them coming in?

Slowly, I descend the steps, peering beyond the railing at the bottom. It’s too dark to see much but the light in the hall is on. Did I leave it on earlier?

It wasn’t dark yet. Right?

Stepping quietly back, I grab the banister, squeaking when I hear another loud thump before taking the steps two at a time and pausing once more at the landing.

My parents would make more noise, right? They’d be talking or more likely arguing. Dad would set his keys in the bowl by the door with a jingle. Mom would bitch about me leaving the lights on and wasting electricity.

Shit. If it’s not them, coming this way was a stupid move because I now have no way out unless I climb out a window.

I eye the hallway behind me but stifle a gasp when the floorboard in the dining room squeaks, something my mom has complained about endlessly, but Dad never fixed.

Moving away from the landing, I pause at my parent’s room, cocking my head at the slight shuffle of feet on the stairs, ominous in the silence.

The hair on my nape rises and I grab the knob. My parents have the only room with a decent lock which I refuse to analyze and with a choked sob, I enter and close the door before engaging it.

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