Page 45 of What's Left of Me

Staring up at her, I can’t quite figure out when the last shreds of her sanity snapped. Shaking my head, I refuse to move. “Save it, Porscha. I’m never going to love you, so do what you must. I’m not helping you anymore.”

Her eyes flash atanymore.There’s so much left unspoken between us, and if she’s alive she might think my choices are an effort to protect her when it’s far from it. She sneers down at me, keeping the gun angled my way. She’s digging around in her pocket, and I can’t wait to see what madness she tries out next.

“Let’s not pretend to be heroes,” she says, scowling. “You aren’t going to win back any hearts at this rate, not when the FBI determines that you made a break for it, kidnapped a professor and are on the run.”

I just keep glaring, thinking through my next move. “You’re delusional.”

She growls low in her throat, holding up the item she was searching for. It’s a needle, and my blood runs cold just imagining what crap she’s gotten her hands on this time. I guess alcohol would be too difficult if she needs me to consume it, but heroin was a time tested favorite of hers. “You pretend to love my daughter, so keep being her hero. Do you think I can’t get to her if I’ve managed to kill five new women so far?”

Grinding my teeth, I don’t respond. All my focus lasers in on that needle. I might be able to knock it away and get the gun from her, but my brain still feels like it’s seconds from exploding in my head. This headache is killer, and my breathing still hurts each time I try and suck in a breath. I’m not sure what she did to the penitentiary but whatever it was is still in my system.

It might make me slow, or weak, or easy to trick. I can’t trust anything Porscha says now that she’s returned from the dead.

But using Jo as leverage, it’s just like old times.

Gazing off behind her, I imagine the penitentiary in the distance. I’ve never been back in the trees before, and I can’t tell which direction is what right now.

This time, with Porscha hanging over me again like a dark cloud, I think she’s going to drag me with her into the afterlife.

Licking my lips, I focus on anything but her. I’d prefer to not get jabbed with that needle and keep my senses about me for as long as possible. I’ll have a better chance at escaping.

She says something, but I miss it. My mind is miles away, thinking of the only two people who tether me to Citrus Grove.

I’ll see you again someday, Lovebirds.

Chapter 18

I wake up slowly, the kiss from bedtime lingering on my lips. Sending Alastair home was a smart idea even though I wanted him to stay. My mom is cool, but she would have an issue with him sleeping in my bed for the night. Vinny is busy with his father today, and I doubt I’ll get to see him this weekend.

It doesn’t matter though. It’s summer. We’re all working out the logistics to head to Denver, afford an apartment together, and start our lives. Away from the drama and tragedies that suffocate Citrus Grove.

At first I don’t understand why it’s taking so long to open my eyes. It’s sort of like a hangover, but I don’t remember drinking. My body becomes more and more aware but I can’t seem to move, and nothing makes sense as I open my eyes.

“Don’t go any deeper,” someone says, the voice so distorted I can’t recognize it. Staring up at the ceiling I realize it’s mostly dark with a tiny haze of light around me, and my mouth feels like it’s glued shut from how dry my tongue and lips are.

Something… touches me? It’s hard to determine what, but then there’s white hot pain. More pain than I remember ever experiencing before, and it sends needles of agony throughout my body.

Actually, it matches with the rest of the pain in my body. I still can’t move, but the agonizing feeling is mirrored in different spots, and it takes a great effort to drop my head to one side.

Someone’s screaming now, and I think it might be me. The pain dances up and down my body, like I’m being pushed through a meat slicer in a deli. My skin burns everywhere, and I can’t pinpoint what hurts the most. The pain becomes my entire focus.

What is happening?

It takes a moment for my eyes to finally adjust to the dark but when they do, I see them. Two blurs bouncing on one side of me. The shapes start to form, and I can distinguish two people.

I recognize him first, my voice scratchy and thick when I try to speak. It hurts to make my lips work, like I’m forcing my voice through a spiked field. “A-Alastair.”

His head snaps around kind of like he’s on a string, and he spins far enough that I can catch sight of the other person too. I don’t say her name though, because now nothing makes sense.

Mom?

Awareness trickles in, intensifying by the minute along with the pain throughout my body. There’s a bloody knife in Alastair’s hand and blood on his fingers. But Mom…

She’s red. Literally. The room is dim but there’s some sort of lamp nearby, and it reflects off of her enough to see the blood that coats her body. It’s all over, across her torso, dripping down to her legs, covering her arms and hands with fat drops sprinkled across her cheeks.

This time when the screams begin, I know for sure it’s me.

“Jo-” he begins.

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