Dangerous Boys
Page 57
‘You were lying there; there was so much blood. I already knew, I’d picked wrong.’ I lifted my eyes to his, plaintive. ‘You were the one who believed in me. It was you, it was always you – but he would never let you go alive. I never realized how much he hated you until then. So, I went after him when he was about to start the fire. I took the pipe, the one he’d used on you, and then . . . ’
Ethan searches my face. ‘What did you do, Chloe?’
‘I made sure he’d never hurt you again.’
There’s a long silence. I’m clinging to Ethan’s hand, waiting for him to say something. Anything.
There’s a noise; the door opens. ‘I’m just going now . . . ’ Weber is on his cellphone, but when he sees us here together, he hangs up without another word.
‘I told you to stay out.’ He glares at me. ‘You’re interfering with a witness, get the hell away from him.’
My heart drops. I send a desperate look to Ethan, but he turns away.
This is it. The end.
I force myself to rise out of the chair. My legs are trembling, my whole body is thick with fear. I slowly walk towards the door, knowing that these are my last few moments of freedom. I should have run when I had the chance. I should have done so much differently. But it’s too late.
It’s always too late.
‘Wait.’ Ethan’s voice comes, breaking through my terror. ‘She can stay.’
I turn, confused. Ethan reaches out his hand to me, giving me a private look. ‘I want her to stay,’ he says again.
Weber looks back and forth between us. ‘But I need to get your statement.’
‘I don’t remember much.’ Ethan meets my eyes. ‘I just know, she’s the one who saved me. That’s all that matters.’
He’s covering for me.
I gasp an inhale of pure relief, crossing the room in an instant to be by his side. ‘I told you what happened,’ I tell Weber, holding Ethan’s hand tight. ‘Oliver was obsessed with me. He stabbed Ethan, and Ethan hit him in self-defence. It was all an accident.’
‘Is that right, son?’ Weber looks furious, but there’s nothing he can do. He’s on the other side of the room from us; Ethan and I, a united front. ‘You don’t have to say anything right now,’ Weber adds. ‘Take your time, see what you remember.’
‘There’s nothing to remember.’ Ethan looks defiant. ‘It was Oliver. I was just defending us. That’s what happened.’
Weber lets out a long breath. ‘We still need to go through it.’
‘Fine,’ Ethan says.
‘Alone.’ Weber glares at me.
‘It’s OK.’ Ethan squeezes my hand. He gives me a brief smile. ‘I’ve got this. You go find my parents.’
‘You’re sure?’ I linger, still feeling the dance of panic in my veins. What if this is some kind of game, to lull me into security before he brings the truth crashing down?
‘I promise.’ Ethan’s eyes are clear and true. He lifts my hand to his lips in a kiss. ‘You saved me,’ he murmurs. ‘I knew you wouldn’t let me down.’
I cup my hand to his cheek. ‘You believed in me,’ I whisper, dizzy with relief.
Weber clears his throat.
I pull away. ‘I’ll be back,’ I tell Ethan. ‘I’ll get you some jello. It’s gross, but it’s the least of all evils in this place.’
He cracks a smile. ‘Don’t be gone too long.’
I walk past Weber and out of the room, my heart pounding. That future that seemed a distant dream suddenly bursts into view again, bright and close enough to hold. The hospital walls fade away around me, instead, I see busy streets and strange new cities; college classrooms and crowds of people.
‘I’m not finished with you yet.’
I chose wrong.
I felt it, the minute the knife slid in and I felt that rush, the glorious rush of power. Better than any drug or glittering orgasm, better than anything I’d ever tasted before.
This was mine.
Ethan gasped, his expression desperate. I didn’t care. I felt the power take me over, and I knew in that moment, it would never be enough. To feel this way, to know I could hold a life in my hands and rip it away for good . . .
I wanted more, already. I wanted it forever.
Oliver gave a slow clap. ‘Beautiful work, my dear.’
I turned. He was watching Ethan’s gasps with a dark look of victory. This was his prize. Not just that Ethan was dying, but that I was the one who’d done it. His student. His instrument. The ultimate betrayal.
And that’s when I realized, through the haze of blood and power, I would never be safe with him.
If he could watch his brother die with a smile on his face, then what would become of me? I’d built my dream of a future on his promises, his seductive words, but one day, he’d turn on me too, and I’d never see it coming.
He’d killed before. He knew this thrill.
One day, it would be me.
I pulled the blade out and Ethan crumpled to the floor, broken and bleeding.
‘I’ll set the fires downstairs,’ Oliver told me, all business again. He swept over the candles nearby, sending them spinning to the floor. ‘You clean up here. There’s kerosene in the bathroom, to make it spread. This place will be ashes before anyone thinks to look.’
He exited the room, footsteps receding on the stairs.
I gasped for air, thinking wildly. Fire. Yes. I’d need it to hide what happened, to give me time to spin my story. I quickly wiped the knife handle down with my sweater sleeve and dragged Ethan closer to the doorway. The candles’ flame was spreading, tiny pockets of flame, but there was still time.
I picked up the length of pipe from the floor and crept downstairs.
Oliver was sloshing kerosense from plastic gallon jugs, all through the kitchen and dining rooms. He was humming, cheerful, even after everything, and he didn’t hear me as I moved up behind him, stealthy and silent.
I caught my breath. I raised the pipe, gripping with both hands. Then my boot hit a stray nail on the concrete and it skittered aside with a metallic ring.
Oliver turned.
I’ll always remember the expression on his face: the confusion, turning to bewildered outrage as he realized what was to come.
He underestimated me. They always did.
I brought the pipe up with all the force I had. It cracked against the side of his skull with a glorious dull ring; he lurched backwards, falling heavily to the ground, face-down.
Ethan searches my face. ‘What did you do, Chloe?’
‘I made sure he’d never hurt you again.’
There’s a long silence. I’m clinging to Ethan’s hand, waiting for him to say something. Anything.
There’s a noise; the door opens. ‘I’m just going now . . . ’ Weber is on his cellphone, but when he sees us here together, he hangs up without another word.
‘I told you to stay out.’ He glares at me. ‘You’re interfering with a witness, get the hell away from him.’
My heart drops. I send a desperate look to Ethan, but he turns away.
This is it. The end.
I force myself to rise out of the chair. My legs are trembling, my whole body is thick with fear. I slowly walk towards the door, knowing that these are my last few moments of freedom. I should have run when I had the chance. I should have done so much differently. But it’s too late.
It’s always too late.
‘Wait.’ Ethan’s voice comes, breaking through my terror. ‘She can stay.’
I turn, confused. Ethan reaches out his hand to me, giving me a private look. ‘I want her to stay,’ he says again.
Weber looks back and forth between us. ‘But I need to get your statement.’
‘I don’t remember much.’ Ethan meets my eyes. ‘I just know, she’s the one who saved me. That’s all that matters.’
He’s covering for me.
I gasp an inhale of pure relief, crossing the room in an instant to be by his side. ‘I told you what happened,’ I tell Weber, holding Ethan’s hand tight. ‘Oliver was obsessed with me. He stabbed Ethan, and Ethan hit him in self-defence. It was all an accident.’
‘Is that right, son?’ Weber looks furious, but there’s nothing he can do. He’s on the other side of the room from us; Ethan and I, a united front. ‘You don’t have to say anything right now,’ Weber adds. ‘Take your time, see what you remember.’
‘There’s nothing to remember.’ Ethan looks defiant. ‘It was Oliver. I was just defending us. That’s what happened.’
Weber lets out a long breath. ‘We still need to go through it.’
‘Fine,’ Ethan says.
‘Alone.’ Weber glares at me.
‘It’s OK.’ Ethan squeezes my hand. He gives me a brief smile. ‘I’ve got this. You go find my parents.’
‘You’re sure?’ I linger, still feeling the dance of panic in my veins. What if this is some kind of game, to lull me into security before he brings the truth crashing down?
‘I promise.’ Ethan’s eyes are clear and true. He lifts my hand to his lips in a kiss. ‘You saved me,’ he murmurs. ‘I knew you wouldn’t let me down.’
I cup my hand to his cheek. ‘You believed in me,’ I whisper, dizzy with relief.
Weber clears his throat.
I pull away. ‘I’ll be back,’ I tell Ethan. ‘I’ll get you some jello. It’s gross, but it’s the least of all evils in this place.’
He cracks a smile. ‘Don’t be gone too long.’
I walk past Weber and out of the room, my heart pounding. That future that seemed a distant dream suddenly bursts into view again, bright and close enough to hold. The hospital walls fade away around me, instead, I see busy streets and strange new cities; college classrooms and crowds of people.
‘I’m not finished with you yet.’
I chose wrong.
I felt it, the minute the knife slid in and I felt that rush, the glorious rush of power. Better than any drug or glittering orgasm, better than anything I’d ever tasted before.
This was mine.
Ethan gasped, his expression desperate. I didn’t care. I felt the power take me over, and I knew in that moment, it would never be enough. To feel this way, to know I could hold a life in my hands and rip it away for good . . .
I wanted more, already. I wanted it forever.
Oliver gave a slow clap. ‘Beautiful work, my dear.’
I turned. He was watching Ethan’s gasps with a dark look of victory. This was his prize. Not just that Ethan was dying, but that I was the one who’d done it. His student. His instrument. The ultimate betrayal.
And that’s when I realized, through the haze of blood and power, I would never be safe with him.
If he could watch his brother die with a smile on his face, then what would become of me? I’d built my dream of a future on his promises, his seductive words, but one day, he’d turn on me too, and I’d never see it coming.
He’d killed before. He knew this thrill.
One day, it would be me.
I pulled the blade out and Ethan crumpled to the floor, broken and bleeding.
‘I’ll set the fires downstairs,’ Oliver told me, all business again. He swept over the candles nearby, sending them spinning to the floor. ‘You clean up here. There’s kerosene in the bathroom, to make it spread. This place will be ashes before anyone thinks to look.’
He exited the room, footsteps receding on the stairs.
I gasped for air, thinking wildly. Fire. Yes. I’d need it to hide what happened, to give me time to spin my story. I quickly wiped the knife handle down with my sweater sleeve and dragged Ethan closer to the doorway. The candles’ flame was spreading, tiny pockets of flame, but there was still time.
I picked up the length of pipe from the floor and crept downstairs.
Oliver was sloshing kerosense from plastic gallon jugs, all through the kitchen and dining rooms. He was humming, cheerful, even after everything, and he didn’t hear me as I moved up behind him, stealthy and silent.
I caught my breath. I raised the pipe, gripping with both hands. Then my boot hit a stray nail on the concrete and it skittered aside with a metallic ring.
Oliver turned.
I’ll always remember the expression on his face: the confusion, turning to bewildered outrage as he realized what was to come.
He underestimated me. They always did.
I brought the pipe up with all the force I had. It cracked against the side of his skull with a glorious dull ring; he lurched backwards, falling heavily to the ground, face-down.
