“No,” I choke out, fresh tears bubbling out of my eyes. I sniff heavily and wipe away the excess snot leaking from my nose with the back of my hand.
“What happened?” he barks.
“Barry, he’shere,” I cry.
“What?” he barks. “What the fuck do you mean he’sthere?” In the background, bedsheets rustle, along with Brenda’s soft voice asking what’s wrong. “Lionel’s in Colorado and found Rev,” he mutters to her before returning to our conversation, and demanding, “Tell me everything.”
“I-I just came home from work, like, twenty minutes ago,” I start, my voice cracking. “And there was th-this random pink barrette and a note on my bed. I don't even know where the hell the hair clip is from. I-I don't know if it used to be mine as a kid? I don't fucking know! But he…” I squeeze my eyes shut, desperately trying to compose myself as tears leak past the seal of my eyelashes and trail down my cheeks in rivulets.
“He what?” he snaps impatiently, though I know his anger isn’t directed toward me. He’s one of the few people in this world who actually gives a shit.
“He said he missed me and he has my bedroom ready for my arrival.” The words taste like gasoline, and if I had a match, I’d happily set my tongue aflame to never have to speak them again.
“Fuck,” he hisses beneath his breath. “Fuck, fuck, FUCK!”
“How did this happen? How did his parole officer let him leave the state already?”
“Sweetheart, I-I don’t know, but I’m going to get to the bottom of this. Can you stay with Sable tonight? I don’t want you in those dorms until I’ve alerted risk management and they move you somewhere else.”
I feel like vomiting again, but I manage to swallow it down.
“Yeah, I’ll see if I can stay with her,” I mumble, my bones suddenly weighed down with exhaustion. Whatever energy I possessed seems to have dissipated like smoke, and I feel even more tired than when I first walked in.
I hear a beep, and I look at my screen to see Sable calling, as if I summoned her spirit. I go to message her to tell her I’ll call her back, but Barry distracts me.
“Hey, it’s going to be okay, sweetheart, all right? I’ll get on the first flight there?—”
“No, please don’t,” I cut in earnestly. “I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to you.”
“Sweetheart, with all due respect, I'm a goddamn FBI agent and can handle that motherfucker just fine. I’ve been chomping at the bit to kill him myself for years. All the bodies we’ve found—” He cuts himself off abruptly, and I know he’s trying to gather himself. He lets out a harsh breath. “That is a sick, sick man, and I know you know that already. I will happily die protecting you, but God willing, Reverie, I will bring that son of a bitch down with me.”
My chin trembles, and more tears spill down my face. A massive headache is forming, but it’s nothing compared to the ache in my chest.
I was so fucking stupid to have any hope college would be what I needed to start living again.
I came here just to have one man dig my grave, and the other throw me back in it.
“The entire campus knows who my father is because of Dread,” Isay before inhaling a shuddering breath. “I thought I was going to get to start over, be someone else, but I’m still Charlotte here. She never got to have a life, and Dread made sure it stayed that way—that I stayed a ghost. And now, Lionel just might make that a reality. Fuck, Barry, I shouldn’t have even gone to college. I?—”
“No, don’t do that. We already talked about this, Rev. Lionel has already taken so much from you. He doesn’t get to take your future, too. He doesn’t get to stop you from living your goddamn life and being a normal fucking kid. He got out nearly two decades sooner than he was supposed to. None of this is your fault.”
I shake my head, jostling out a few more tears.
“And I’m happy to take care of that little prick, too,” he continues, his voice rising. “You would have a solid case against him if you’d press charges. That pretty face of his will serve him just fine while he’s rotting behind bars.”
He’s wanted to handle Dread since he started terrorizing me, but I refused to let him get involved. Barry knows only the surface of what Dread has put me through over the years, but I’ve purposely kept most of it to myself, lest Barry take matters into his own hands, regardless of my wishes.
We both know Dread hurts me because he’s hurt, and I feel responsible for handling him myself when it’s my family that ruined him. This endless loathing between Dread and me is just that—between Dread and me.
I sigh, the pounding in my head worsening.
“It doesn’t matter anymore, Barry. Dread is the least of my worries, and it’s done and over with. Lionel found me.”
“Yeah, well, now it’s my turn to find him,” Barry growls. “Dread goes to that goddamn school, too, and with him being the family of a victim, Lionel shouldn’t have even been granted approval to go there. God, he—fuck!” He stumbles over his words, his anger taking over any coherent train of thought.
“Sweetheart, relax. Your blood pressure,” Brenda admonishes gently in the background.
Barry heaves out a harsh exhale to calm himself, instinctively listening to his wife without a second thought.
