Page 153 of Run Away Home: Tempered

I drive away, but slowly. Tears are running down my cheeks now.

Don’t look back, Kara, don’t look back.

But I look back. I see him on his hands and knees, vomiting on the side of the street. I keep driving.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Hayley

I’M SOBBING. I’M SITTINGon the couch sobbing. Nothing can fix this. Not even the Oxys. They didn’t help at all. Now I’m just extra paranoid. My tears feel hot like flames burning down my face.

“Stop it!” Tristian says.

He doesn’t understand, and I don’t have the strength to tell him now.

“I can’t.”

“You want the neighbors to call the police? You want the police to show up here?”

“You think that’s what I want?” I stand. “You think that’s what I want? You talked me into this. YOU!”

“But you’re the one who actually did it. Now, shut the fuck up! I’m just here to help you cover your own ass. I have something in mind.”

I pace around the living room. I’m making myself dizzy, but I feel like if I walk faster and faster, I could float, take off...be anywhere but here.

“Where is he?” I fall to the floor. “It doesn’t take that long to drive home. What if she took him to the hospital? What if they run tests? What if they find poison in his blood? We’re so screwed! Oh my God!”

“Calm down. Who knows why it’s taking so long? What time is the kid supposed to be coming home?”

“Not until Peter’s normal end of shift.” I sniffle.

“Perfect.”

We hear a banging noise coming from outside. Tristian walks to the front of the apartment and peeks through the blinds.

“He’s home!” He turns to look at me. “There’s no car, though. Looks like he walked. He’s got a bottle in his hand, and... He just threw it out.” He laughs. “It’s empty.”

“Okay, okay... Just let him go to bed. I don’t want to do this anymore. I changed my mind. Tristian...” I start crying again, “I’m so scared.”

“Oh, no. You’re not backing out. Plan B is much more fun, anyway. We just have to figure out where to hide a body.”

“What the fuck do you mean? You failed. It’s over. There’s no Plan B. Let’s get out of this while we still can!”

The door opens, and I hear Peter trip up the steps. Tristian darts toward the front door.

“No, Tristian. NO! What are you thinking?”

I chase after him, looking down from the top of the stairs. Peter’s face first on the floor. Tristian yanks him up by his arms.

“What ... What are you d-doing?” Peter asks groggily.

“Get the fuck up.”

“Tristian! Put him down. Help him get into bed!”

“You sorry fuck.” He drops Peter on his side and kicks him in the chest, hard. Peter gasps for air. It’s nothing like the powerless punches I gave him just a few days ago. The kick literally knocks the wind out of him.

“TRISTIAN! NO! NO!”

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