Page 28 of Soul So Dark
“OK,” I reluctantly let my fingers slide off the shelf instead of continuing my compulsive tidying. I round the end of the bed and sit down on the corner next to him, drawing my knee up to my chest. “What’s up?”
Colson gazes up at my white ceiling that pops against the bubblegum pink walls. Then he glances to the side, toward the head of my bed, and pauses. Evie’s stuffed black dog lays next to my own stuffed sock monkey I’ve had since I was a baby, and I know he recognizes it.
He lingers on it for a few moments, but says nothing before turning his attention back to me. “There was a guy at Evie’s funeral today.”
“You mean the one you pummeled in the cemetery?” I ask before he can finish.
He nods and then reaches into his pocket for his phone. “You need to know who he is,” he says as he starts swiping.
I let out a weary breath. “Why? Isn’t he just some dude who pissed you off, just like every other one?” Sometimes he forgets that I’ve known him for 15 years and I’ve seen all this play out before.
“It’s not like that, Dally.”
“Quit calling me Dally!” I snap.
If he wants to demand something of me, he could stop calling me the one stupid nickname he’s used for years, even going so far as to getting his friends to call me that, no matter how much I hate it.
And then when Colson raises his head, a sudden wave of guilt washes over me. He’s a giant compared to me and now I feel bad because I snapped at him for calling me some dumb nickname. God, what’s wrong with me?
“Colson, I’m not like you, OK?” I sigh. “I’m not going to be a prick to someone just because you don’t like them, especially to some guy I don’t even know and I’ve never seen before.”
“Youneedto know who he is,” Colson declares, this time with a much sharper tone.
And just like that, the irritation returns. “Like Evie?” I snarl. “Is this the same guy you toldherto stay away from just because you don’t like him?” As soon as I say it, Colson locks in on me, his expression morphing into a mixture of shock and fury, but for some reason I don’t take the hint and shut up. “You don’t get to tell everyone what to do just because everyone’s scared of you.I’mnot scared of you!”
I start to get up, but Colson grabs the back of my t-shirt and I let out a shriek as he yanks me back onto his lap. My heart starts racing, an image of my dark bedroom flashing through my mind. For a moment, I think he’s going to hoist me in the air and drag me across the room again. But he doesn’t.
“You should be scared,” he growls in my ear, “but not of me.” Colson digs his fingers into my arm and doesn’t even bat an eye while his broken fingers clutch me against his chest. Then he shoves his phone in my face. “Thisis who you need to be scared of.”
I squint at the bright backlight and look away, shaking my head frantically. I don’t want to see whatever he’s trying to show me. I don’t want to have any more nightmares in addition to the ones I already have about Evie’s faceless murderer or my own brother who I have to lock out of my room at night.
“I’m not kiddingwith you, Dallas,” he gives me a jerk, making me yelp, “look at it!”
I swivel my head forward again, and for an instant, I see a fuzzy figure—a guy dressed in a soccer uniform, much like what Colson wears, but red instead of blue. He has black hair that falls halfway over dark piercing eyes, and full lips fixed into a menacing smirk as he glares at the camera. My eyes start watering, blurring my vision, and I begin to focus on the top edge of his phone, refusing to look at the picture anymore.
“You see his face?” Colson asks. “His name is Bowen Garrison—Bowen Garrison,” he snarls into my ear. “Take a good fucking look at this picture, Dallas, because this is who killed Evie. And he’s going to come after you, too. He’s not going to stop.”
I’m shaking beneath his grip, still unable to bring myself to face what’s in front of me.
“See him?” Colson barks, giving me another shake. “Stay away from him. His family will cover for him, the police will cover for him, and he’llneversee the inside of a courtroom.Do you understand?”
I nod, my face contorting while tears flood my eyes. I just want him to let go of me and stop talking about this. And to my surprise, it seems to satisfy him. Colson’s arm drops and he loosens his grip around my shoulder. I push off of him and stagger away, rubbing my eyes as I try to pull myself back together. But before I can turn back around, I hear my door slam and Colson is gone.
Standing in the middle of my room, I have no idea what to do. More tears threaten to spill down my face, and I’m shaking too bad to go back to whatever the hell I was doing before Colson strolled in here. I pace back and forth a few times before twisting the lock on my door handle and collapsing back onto the edge of my bed.
I hear the faint sound of Colson’s bass blasting from his stereo and then his engine rev. The sounds get fainter and fainter until they disappear altogether. I sit in silence for what seems like an hour until I finally find the wherewithal to reach for my phone. Then I pause, not knowing what to even do. But, as if on instinct, my thumb is swiping through my contacts and before I know it, I’m holding my phone to my ear.
It rings four times before a vaguely familiar voice answers. “Hello?”
“Hi, um…Alex?” I immediately feel like an idiot.
Who just calls up their older brother’s friend out of nowhere? But he’s the only person I feel like I can even remotely talk to about this right now. If I called Shelby, she’d freak out about what Colson said, and then I’d freak out even more.
But Alex knows Colson…
“Who’s this?” he deadpans.
Jesus fucking Christ, he doesn’t even have my number in his phone. Oh, yeah, he only put his number in mine…
