Page 55 of Heart Sick Hate
My phone buzzes from the other side of the apartment, dragging her out of whatever trance she was lost in.
“Thanks.” She takes the rag and walks out of the room with it, shutting herself in the bathroom.
I slide into a pair of sweats and sit at the edge of the bed. Staring at the bathroom door, wondering how she could so quickly flipthe switch.
My phone buzzes again just as Echo walks out of the bathroom. She’s still fully naked and a work of art in my otherwise boring bedroom.
From the other room, her phone starts to ring, and it takes me a second to process it’s three in the morning and both our phones are going off as we stare at each other. Something she must realize too because she rushes to the other room as I follow her and dig my phone from the pile of clothes on the floor.
When I finally find it, I see my dad’s name lighting up the screen. He never calls this late.
Never calls at all. The most I get are clipped texts with directions. Times. Places.
“Dad?” I answer, at the same time as Echo slips into her T-shirt and answers her own phone.
“Fuck, Crew, where have you been?” He’s out of breath. Pissed.
But worse, he sounds almost scared.
“Home.”
“Well get to Cedars-Sinai now.” Something slams on the other end of the line. “Rhett’s been shot.”
At that, the line goes dead.
Down the hallway, something thumps. A solid sound that turns my insides hollow because it isn’t right.
My feet patter toward it. I run through the maze of rooms and halls and whispers.
Mom. I need to find mom.
Down the hall there are voices, before a soul-piercing scream rips through every molecule of oxygen in my lungs. And I freeze in place instead of moving faster.
Whoever was here is leaving, but not out the front door, which would make sense. They’re heading toward the back. And even if I can’t put my finger on why, it makes my gut sink.
Feet moving.
Sounds changing.
Noises getting further away and then closer again.
Finally, I find my way forward.
Mom. I need to find Mom.
Bad things have a way of revealing themselves through instinct before your eyes see them. You can know before walking into a room that it holds the power to stain every good moment up until that point.
I know before turning the corner, I should walk in the other direction. I should get Dad or Adam. But I heard her scream like it was for my ears alone. It carved itself in my skull and it’s rattling around there like her nails are clawing at the inside of me.
Scratching as they beg for answers.
Finally making it to the end of the hallway, I’m met with a room no one spends time in. If anything, this space is a trophy of everything our family isn’t. Photos on the mantle—smiles that only exist within them.
A fire is burning, and for a moment, my senses are so overwhelmed, the flames seem to eat the whole room. They cover every inch, until my vision blinks into focus and puts them in their place.
It’s quiet, except for the crackling of the flames, and Rhett is standing in the middle turning to me when he hears me enter.
“Crew it’s—” But he doesn’t finish his sentence with words. He doesn’t need to.
