Page 136 of Unspoken Truths

“That’s soon,” I murmur, thinking about it. “We can do that, and it’ll keep us from keeping her from killing herself because we’ll be busy doing it for her.”

“Exactly,” he agrees. “Don’t fuck it up. Everything you need is within your grasp. Things are getting harder to control, but we’re going to replace Mrs. Hartwell with a King. He’s nearing retirement, and doesn’t mind a quieter role while he straightens out some of the bullshit that’s been occurring at the school.”

“Good, Mrs. Hartwell isn’t very effective,” I say. “She only refused to overturn Rachelle’s grades because she could tell there was something bigger than her pay grade happening.”

“Agreed. The road is paved with everything you need,” he says. “I may work on a way to get Emil Reyes out of the picture. Not permanently, just make him a very busy man in his occupation.”

Holding back a wince, I realize that means there will be some mafia shit going down soon. Hopefully, Ignacio won’t get tied up in that. I can’t voice any of my thoughts, because it’ll seem ungrateful. They’re doing us a solid to help us.

However that ends up manifesting itself, will have to be enough.

“Thank you,” I say. “This will be a great help.”

Nodding, he gets up.

“Seriously, we’re all pulling for you. Don’t fuck it up,” he says, moving over to push open the window to my room.

Ironically, I sleep on the first floor of the mansion, so he simply hops out of my room and walks away. Dropping onto my pillows, I think about how exactly we’re going to accomplish killing Rachelle Reyes.

* * *

RACHELLE

“Pick up the pace, Reyes!” Lili calls out like a drill sergeant, smirking as we run along the sand on the beach.

We’ve been here almost a week, and while it’s very different from Florida, it’s done me a world of good to be away. I’ve used the burner phone to check in occasionally with my mom and Emil, but I’ve largely just spent the time enjoying myself.

Even though I hate running. The way the air feels like sandpaper as I struggle to breathe, my lead filled legs as I yell at them in my head to keep moving, all of it. However, it’s necessary. I need to have stamina to run when it counts.

So I force myself to move my legs faster, my lungs to inhale air, and I pick up the damn pace. Three miles is the goal. My girlfriend is insane and has decided to increase every day by half a mile. There’s no plateau or easy day.

It’s all hard.

After this, when my legs feel like jelly and I collapse onto the sand with a fake sob, we’re going swimming in the pool in our Airbnb to strengthen my skills. Floating, treading water, and swimming.

Did I say this was a stress free vacation? Maybe I lied a little bit. I’m with Lili, though, so none of it matters.

“Drama queen,” Lili teases me, holding out her hand to help me up from where I’m sprawled out on the cool sand.

It feels good on my body, even though I’m still wearing long sleeves and leggings. The words are slowly fading away, and everyday, she and I attack my skin with cotton balls soaked in acetone. It sucks that I’m so sensitive, turning red and angry quickly.

Who the fuck uses permanent marker? To be frank, if they'd had access to a tattoo gun, there’s no doubt in my mind they would have used it on my skin.

“I really am,” I groan, flopping onto my back to grab her hand to pull myself up. “Swimming now?”

“You know it,” she says with a nod.

I think I’m dreading the swimsuit more than the actual water at this point as we walk back to our rental. The slow walk and sips of water help as the blood thunders in my ears. I didn’t die on this run, so maybe the trend will continue.

I know my thoughts are morbid, but the last few days have changed me. It’s hard to find many reasons to be lighthearted. Time with Lili helps, it’s simply not a cure all. I didn’t expect it to be, either, I just feel much older than my seventeen years.

This town is idyllic and beautiful. I love how close we are to the beach. My legs still feel like lead, but I’m slowly beginning to feel better with each step.

“What are the health benefits of running again?” I ask. “I heard it was supposed to make you happy.”

Grinning, Lili shrugs. “The endorphin release is what makes people feel happy, yes. I gather you haven’t experienced it yet?” she teases me.

“Nope, I want a refund on my sweat,” I announce, enjoying her laughter.

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