Page 75 of Her Wicked Knights
Colton nods, letting his hand drop and staring at the phone in his other one. "Yeah." He nods again, and I can tell he's hanging by a thread.
As much as I resent him for being the one she reached out to, I need him to quit spiraling. Marley needs him.
"Hey." I say, turning to look at him. "Get over it."
He doesn't even seem to realize I just threw his own words back at him; he only blinks at me.
"You don't get to fall apart. Not now, not with her. You get that, right? She called you, Colt. She needs you to help her right now, so you're not going to spiral like this, okay? You're going to get your ass out of this car, you're gonna go to her, and you're going to be exactly the person she needs right now. You can do that, after what we did to her, what we let happen."
His eyes scan mine, but he's quiet, so I prompt him. "Got it?"
"Yeah." He swallows, and the doubt that was on his face seconds before disappears, replaced with determination. "I've got this."
He gets out of the car and ducks down to look back at us. "Keep your phone close. I'll keep you updated."
But he doesn't have to say as much. I'm not stepping away from my phone, just in case she decides she needs me too. And even if she doesn't, I'll be here... waiting until she does.
36
Rev
It'sbeenaweirdcouple of days since Audrey's murder.
Whit gathered us at the church last night, before the funeral arrangements were delivered.
Carson, Nick, and Mark were clearly losing patience with him.
"We made the final sacrifice. When do we inherit the power?"
They sound like petulant children at their great aunt's will-reading with their hands out in expectation.
Whit assured them that it was just going to be a few days, that we had to wait until the sun rose in the west or some shit like that, that we'd gather again after Audrey's funeral had passed, and inherit the rites. I could care less about any of that shit; I just want Marley to be okay.
I'm watching her from the corner of my eye, and I half expect that she's going to fall forward at some point, unable to take it anymore. She doesn't cry fresh tears; her eyes are already red and swollen from doing that so much these last few days. Instead, she sits there with her hands folded neatly in her lap, letting her sister grab her intermittently, almost like she's just checking to make sure she's still there.
It was just less than a year ago when we were here for her parents' funeral.
I don't listen to a word my father says as he talks about a life stolen, Audrey going home to her father, and eternal rest. If there's a heaven, I'm not sure Audrey is there after the lives she took. She certainly didn't seem like she'd repented before she drew Marley into the trap we used against her, and I know for a fact she didn't make it right in her final moments. But I don't really care what comes after this.
My father has spent his entire career preaching about what comes after life, but I know something he doesn't. I know that life can recycle, that sometimes people reincarnate. That's what's happened to us- Tripp, Colton, Whit, Marley, and me. We've gone from one life to the next like it's an endless cycle, and if we've been bound through those lifelines because our souls are tethered, then it's no wonder my soul is so goddamn tired.
I'm silent as I watch Audrey's Nan, a tiny little woman with clouds of white hair pulled back in a barrette, draw up to the stage. She speaks slowly, and with a strange accent that makes it hard to identify half the words she says. She gives a eulogy, making some sort of tribute to her granddaughter, and then Marley stands with Hadley at her side. I rise from the pews too, in case she needs the physical support, but Marley's face is fixed in determination, and she stares straight ahead, dauntless as she and her sister move together toward the coffin.
It's uncomfortable, sitting on this hard bench in this ridiculous suit, watching her suffer further when I know the reason for her suffering is, at least partly, my fault. I tug at the tie around my neck, loosening it enough so that I feel like I can breathe. It's stuffy in here; the air is full of the cloying scent of hair spray and too much perfume.
Tripp's parents and Axel sat this one out, as did Colton’s mother Geneva, but it seems like the rest of the town showedup. And even people from other towns, since I don't recognize many of the faces that I see when I venture a glance around. It's a highly publicized death, though. Whit said we needed it to be public, and it has been from the start to the end. The constant news bulletins and sharing on socials and netizen theories have made damn sure that Audrey Graves is a name that Serenity Hollow won't soon forget. By killing her, we seem to have turned her into a martyr.
I knew we'd have to deal with Marley memorializing her best friend as some kind of saint, but I didn't expect that from everyone else. Although, in hindsight, I should have. Audrey's death was given a spotlight by the public nature of her death, the fact that she was an avid social media user, and because she was young. Granted, Jenny Clark's murder didn't have this sort of buzz surrounding it, and I'm not sure anything was ever really said about the one I killed, either. The one we all killed.
I don't know what happened with Whit in the haunted house. It was like he turned into another person once that knife was in his hand... or like his real personality started to slip through the facade, showing through the cracks of who he's been pretending to be this whole time. He's been so insistent on making us all complicit, on being sure that we share the burden, so for him to abandon that and go full tilt on murdering her in that frenzy...
I trust him less now than I did before, which is impressive, because I really haven't trusted him at all since he slipped into my head and started tinkering with it to make me bend to his will.
We've taken up guard, watching Marley's house, just in case. It's an old past-time for Colton; now he can just do it more openly.
Marley shakes herself free from her sister's touch as she turns, her eyes set on the double doors like they're the escape she so desperately needs. She teeters on her heels, looking unsteady,and I move to follow her, but Tripp catches me in the ribs with his elbow. When I turn to face him, he nods toward the coffin, a silent reminder that people are watching. We need to act like we care; we need to pay our respects.
The three of us move toward the casket together, unsure how her Nan could have possibly thought an open casket would be a good idea. I saw Audrey in her final moments, and they weren't pretty. Neither was she, after Whit was done with her.
