“…thing that gets me isn’t what we found. It’s what wedidn’tfind. No prints. No DNA. Nothing. Like this demon went about his sick duty, then vanished back to hell without a trace.”
So it’s possible to hallucinate on alcohol. Cool, cool, cool.
Chapter 49
Kai
Hypothermia.
That’s what I should be worried about right now.
That I’ve stopped shivering doesn’t bode well. Can’t remember where I read it, but shivering is how the body fights off cold. So as long as your teeth are chattering, and your hands are shaking, you’re fine.
When it stops?
Body’s given up. Vital functions are shutting down.
I’m going in circles. My legs couldn’t take it anymore. My lungs are screaming at me. My feet are bruised, cut.
I remember Haven’s room. That cute little lamp shattering. But everything after that is a blur.
Must have slipped into a fugue state back there. Not the first time my brain couldn’t handle reality and just...switched off. The Rain Dance, when I jumped Ezra? I remember the first punch, then someone dragging me off Ezra’s limp, blood-splattered body.
That Tuesday I recorded Rooke in Haven’s room? I don’t have a physical memory of ninety percent of what happened. Itfeels like watching a found footage horror flick, and someone else was behind the camera.
Leaves slap against my face as I run past trees because my wet hoodie keeps getting dragged off my head. But I don’t stop, because what I’ve done back there is infinitely worse than just destroying Haven’s room.
Soon as she sees it, she’ll know it’s me.
And she’s going to think it’s because I’m angry at her. Again.
Couldn’t be further from the fucking truth.
Violence has a way of centering me. Always has.
I realized something tonight.
What I told her on Rooke’s bed was the truth.
…I fucking love you…
Jesus, how I wish I could blame the molly. But drugs had nothing to do with it.
I’ve loved Haven Lee from the moment I set eyes on her. I didn’t start calling her Heavenly for nothing. With her blond hair and blue eyes, the soft curve of her lips paired with the jaded look she wore when we first met up…
She was my fucking guardian angel.
If we hadn’t met, I wouldn’t be alive. Not that I’d have tried overdosing, or hanging myself, or some shit. But I had a death wish back then, and without Haven in my life, that wish would have been granted before I got to high school.
The only reason I’m alive today is because, after I met her, I finally had a reason to live. I endured everything I had to, only to get back to her.
Back to the woods.
Back to our games.
Back toher.
That possessive rage that overcame me in her room, the primal need to claim her as mine, isn’t new information. Butthe thought of howwrongit was to feel anything other than brotherly affection for her has always repressed it.
