Page 65 of Atone

Lifting his body is more difficult with him dead, but not impossible. It doesn’t take long to secure the sheet to a solid pipe on the ceiling and hoist him up. A sorry attempt to make it look like he hung himself. Not my best work, but they’ll believe it to spare themselves the police poking around down here.

If I had more time, I would have found a way to get Ricci out of Montgomery before killing him so I could dismember him slowly on the shore of Rochester Lake. See how much I could cut off before he’d finally succumb to death.

But with Mila expecting to see me tonight, I settle for this underwhelming end.

Ricci’s feet dangle a foot off the ground. His face slack. His eyes red from suffocation. Piss drips down his leg, and part of me wishes I could take a picture for Mila so she could see him like this. Then maybe she would understand the lengths I’ll go to for her.

Then maybe she’d know the answer to her question earlier.

Ricci’s feet sway, and I almost pull out my phone. But Mila might not appreciate the significance of this the same way she’d appreciate flowers.

21

DIZZY

MILA

I shouldn’t be disappointedthat Alex isn’t standing at my door when the sun sets and it’s time to leave for the carnival. Still, my heart sinks as I’m met with an empty hallway. Even more so when his car doesn’t pull up beside mine in the parking lot as I climb in.

He probably considered my offer to join me at the carnival and decided it was ridiculous or childish. With all there is to do at Sigma House, I doubt merry-go-rounds and popcorn are that enticing.

Which begs the question:why am I going there myself?

The tents are a sinister reminder of the ghosts that haunt my nightmares. I said I’d visit once with Patience and never return.

And yet, I continue circling because the carnival ishome. At least, the closest thing to one I’ve ever known.

Maybe that’s why I hoped Alex would come with me tonight. After seeing a sliver of his childhood earlier today, I was prepared to show him a piece of mine. It figures that I would open myself up only for him to shut me out.

As I climb out of my car, I notice the looming rain clouds have scared off the big crowds tonight. The lot is sparsely filled, with a flickering streetlamp that warns me I shouldn’t have come here. After what happened the last time with Oxy, I’m second-guessing my return.

But if I let every bad interaction with the opposite sex deter me from something, I’d spend the rest of my life in bed.

The dunk tank is on my right when I pass through the arch of flowers that marks the entrance. Marco and Maddox are laughing at something on Marco’s phone, so I veer in the opposite direction. I’m not in the mood to deal with Sigma Sin tonight.

Scanning the rides on the other side of the carnival, I settle on the merry-go-round. It’s the one ride that only reminds me of a time when I was still young enough to believe that the painted horses could take me somewhere farther away than in circles.

It’s probably ridiculous to climb on at my age, but people can judge all they want.

The colorful horses are various tones of red, purple, and gold. Their shine has dulled from years of being ridden, but their eyes burn bright as ever. I brush my fingers from one to the next, until I choose one near the innermost circle of the carousel. It has a deep groove through the paint on one of its legs from being stored improperly, and the ruby swirls on its body are chipping, but I like that it feels used. Like it’s lived and has a soul.

I grip the twisted golden pole in the center and climb onto the horse. The carousel is mostly empty, like the rest of the grounds, so the few people sharing the ride spread out.

Inside the carousel, the bulbs are dim, offering seclusionas I settle on my chosen horse. The music lifts as a familiar whoosh floods my belly when the ride begins.

At a distance, I spot Marco at the ring toss. Girls are now flocking, hanging on him and Maddox. It’s unsurprising when the men of Sigma House are never lonely.

The speed of the carousel picks up, and I sink into my thoughts instead of focusing on the people around me.

I think about Remi and how this was her favorite ride. She’d always pick a horse at the outer ring so she could feel the wind in her hair. She swore that was the only way to properly enjoy this ride.

My stomach swims, and I know it’s not the carousel. It’s the ghosts rattling my thoughts. It’s the song playing in the background on repeat like a music box. I press a hand to my belly and try to steady my breathing. Closing my eyes for a split second and allowing everything else to pause.

When they flutter open again, I swear I see Alex.

His face flashes in the mirrors at the center of the spinning ride, and I grip the pole tighter, turning to look behind me. But no one is there.

Has my obsession become so great that I’m imagining him now?

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