But the moment stretches into eternity. Or at least, long enough for me to question every life choice I’ve made up to this point.
Like how I keep struggling to claw my way out of this hole, even as life keeps shoveling dirt over my face.
How I cling so desperately to a relic of my lost childhood, when it’s obvious he’s changed for the worse.
How I’m willing to toss aside my dignity for even a sliver of a normal, when I should know by now that an apple-pie life never has, and never will be, on Haven Lee’s bingo card.
Maybe it’s better that it’s over now. Finally.
No more fighting for scraps. An end to those awful memories that surface at the worst times.
Just darkness and nothingness forever. Because, fuck, when it’s all said and done…I’m tired, man.
I’m so fucking tired.
Death, dark and solid, hurtles toward me.
And I fucking welcome it.
Chapter 48
Haven
The twinge of disappointment when I’m still alive a second later makes me realize shit’s gotten bad again.
Likereallybad.
The car shudders to a stop less than a yard from me, angled to the curb, its lights painting the door of the NEX frat house a lighter blue. Rain drums, cocooning me in the glow of light from the headlamps and the sound of my stampeding heart.
The driver door opens, but I don’t hang around to find out who almost killed me. For all I know, it could be a police cruiser, and that nosy cop is going to step out and ask if I’m okay.
I might stop lying for once in my life and tell him the truth.
No, officer. I’m not okay.
In fact, I don’t think I’veeverbeen okay.
But that’s what we humans do, right?
We fucking survive.
Look at me,surviving. I do it so well, no one’s asked me if I’m okayin years.
I hurry to the sidewalk, forcing myself not to look back as I rush up to the frat house door.
My hand raises to knock, but I’m still aware of the car in the middle of the road behind me. So I grab the knob and turn it, stepping inside before I can second guess myself.
I close it quietly behind me, straining to hear if the car pulls away, but I can’t make out anything except the rain outside, and the TV inside.
A dramatically hushed true crime documentary voice-over reaches me as I press my back to the door to catch my breath.
“…a remote ranch where they discovered the true extent of his…”
There’s a glow coming from an archway to the right, where I assume the living area or TV room is. Another archway mirrors it, a metallic gleam suggesting it’s a kitchen. In front of me, a sweeping staircase in dark wood, the wall dotted with dour, pretentious portraits of just as dour, pretentious pricks.
“…mutilated bodies of the young…”
Is that Kai watching TV? I doubt he’d wreak havoc and then come and chill. I should try upstairs, but I don’t know which room is his. Someone flicks a lighter, and I follow the sound.
