Use Somebody (39 page)

While I worried about Gabriel doing something totally stupid to save me, I should have been worried about myself doing something totally stupid to save him.

“Stop,” whispered Gabriel. “He’s coming back. He’s going to see you.”

And in the very next moments, my whole world came crumbling down around me.

He saw.

* * *

My mind couldn’t process what my eyes were seeing. The grotesque scene around me was something out of a nightmare. Broken glass. Destruction. Blood.

Ears ringing. Everything moving in slow motion, muted, like we were under water.

I scanned the room again until I found those beautiful blues. Gabriel. Everything should be alright because Gabriel was right here with me.

But it wasn’t alright. It was all wrong.

Eyes that had once been full of warmth and life… cold.

It couldn’t be real.
It couldn’t be real.

But it was real.

* * *

It took only seconds to rip away everything good in my life.

Then it was just me and the monster.

“Wrong move, you foolish little girl.”

* * *

He gripped my arm above the elbow and dragged me. I was too shaken to fight back. Too lost in despair to be fully coherent. My hands were still bound. My feet stumbled, unable to keep up with his hurried pace. I tripped twice. He just muttered curses at me and yanked me along. Never once did the barrel of the gun leave my skin.

Through the darkness. Down the alley. Towards the car and into the backseat.

* * *

[Present]

“Please, God. Snap out of it, Rosie!”

“No,” I fought back as he shook my shoulders. “Let go! Let me go! You
FUCKING MONSTER!”

“Open your eyes! It’s me, Rosie, open your eyes and see!”

With a gasp, my eyes snapped open and flew wildly from side to side as I took in my surroundings.

I was outside. It was night. I was lying on my back in my own driveway. My throat was in shreds and my face was wet. Vance bent over me, looking panicked and desperate.

Gabriel is dead.

“What happened?” His voice was uncharacteristically shaky. “I barely touched you and you just… you collapsed!”

I closed my eyes and breathed deeply in and out. My heart pounded wildly inside my chest, just as hard as it had
that night
…

The night that defined me, and divided me into two: before him, and after.

I had experienced flashbacks and nightmares before, but this was the first time I’d been hit with such an evocative trigger. I could picture every detail, almost as if I just relived the worst parts of it all over again…

“Say something,” he pleaded.

“Something,” I deadpanned.

Vance laughed humorlessly. “You gotta give me more than that.”

Emotions threatened to force their way out, but I stuffed them back behind the wall. I exhaled slowly, still trying to calm my racing heart as I debated what on earth I could possibly tell him. Even the idea of what he had just witnessed made me want to crawl into a hole.

“I-I’m freaking out here! What the hell was that?”

I rolled my eyes and sat up, brushing the gravel off my palms. “I just fainted, Vance. Calm yourself.”

“Damn it, Rosie, you scared me!”

He wasn’t exaggerating. It was obvious just how terrified he had really been. I felt awful for putting the fear in his eyes, but at the same time, I felt defensive, too. This never would’ve happened if he wouldn’t have pushed me so hard. He needed to listen to what I’d been telling him all along and back the hell off.

“You can’t grab me like that,” I snapped.

Several emotions crossed his face. Remorse. Recognition. Horror. I had to look away. Whatever conclusions he jumped to were out of my hands for now. I wasn’t revisiting the truth tonight.

“Rosie… what hap—”

“Can you do me a favor?” I asked, rising to my feet and standing over him.

Still on his knees, he looked up at me. Just yesterday he had talked about the Fairy Tale Syndrome and how it skewed women’s expectations about love and romance. Did he not realize he suffered from the same delusion?

I could see it in his eyes—he wanted to be the prince who rode up on his horse and saved the day. But I was no princess, and my Prince Charming had come and gone. I couldn’t survive losing another to dragon’s fire. Or to my own poisonous touch.

So I leaned down and looked him directly in the eyes. “Drop… it.”

Then I retreated inside, leaving him there, kneeling in my driveway.

Somehow I’d been able to lay low and avoid Vance for the last few days. He was antsy; understandably so after our night together, then our subsequent argument that led to me blacking out. Who knew what he was thinking at this point? What a mess.

We exchanged a few texts, but I think he understood I wasn’t ready to see him yet. So he gave me space.

I stayed in my bedroom a lot, retreating into myself, just thinking. They say time heals all wounds, but I appeared to be getting worse. The closer Vance and I grew, the more painful memories it seemed to dredge up. The ache grew deeper, the truth grew darker. More than ever I was convinced that I’d never be able to have a real relationship with these fears and this guilt looming over my head.

So I did something I’d been avoiding since the night I moved home… I pulled out the folded up old newspaper buried under my mattress.

It was just a small article from a little city by the beach, over an hour away. The headline read,
Armed Robbery Turned Hostage Situation: One Survivor.

I skimmed right over the image of the old Scarlett, light-haired and smiling from a time before the nightmares began. My attention, as always, was immediately drawn elsewhere.

It was the only picture I had of him and it didn’t do him justice. Gabriel’s face stared back at me in black and white, stirring up a thousand thoughts and feelings. If only I could go back to that night… or better yet, relive the whole month leading up to it… I’d do everything differently.

Wanted criminal pulls his final bank heist, ending tragically for one witness, while the other narrowly escapes kidnapping in fatal crash…

After a long while I pulled my gaze to third photo… the face behind the mask. Too many questions built up inside me, but I would settle for just one—why?

I pulled out my laptop and Googled the name ‘Gavin Lockwood,’ for the first time. I hadn’t been ready to even voice his name before now, but today I needed to know the truth. Who was this depraved man? Maybe if I could find some answers, it would help me heal a little bit.

He was a man with a record, alright. The heist at my bank was only the beginning. More crimes came up. Theft mostly. Although it looked like I hadn’t witnessed his first murder, at least I witnessed his last…

I pushed myself through every disturbing article, wondering if this would end up doing more harm than good. I kept digging deeper, until I found something that disturbed me above everything else. Stricken, I slammed the laptop shut and dropped my head into my hands, trying my best to breathe evenly.

I changed my mind. I just wanted to block it all out.

My old journal came into view—the one with a heart and angel wings drawn on the cover. This little book had seen it all. It got me through everything between love and heartbreak, found and lost. It helped me feel heard in a world that never listened. It possessed the power to bring all my memories back to life.

I began flipping through the inked pages. Though none of the words registered, I saw how my penmanship changed through the years. The loopy, bubbly letters of my youth grew narrow and slanted through time. The doodles in the page corners lessened. All the way until the very end.

At last, I opened to the final entry, which was written after our last good day together on the beach. Reading my own words, I got caught up in the blissful bubble we’d created together. How for a brief moment in time, he had opened my eyes to bigger dreams and a deeper love than I’d ever imagined. How surely I believed it would last forever…

But it didn’t.

I wanted to hold him. I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to demand why he left me here like this, alone and terrified and lost. But what was the point? For the answer, I had to look no further than my own reflection.

Because of me. Because I was the one that survived. Because he had given his life to protect mine.

For the first time in a long time, the full weight of all my anger, all my sadness, all my guilt overtook me. And I was powerless to stop it.

How the hell was I supposed to move on?

He had wholly and irrevocably ruined me for all other men.

When my tears finally ran dry, I tucked the folded article between the last pages and clutched the little book to my chest. With a solemn whispered apology, I returned it to its rightful hiding place under my mattress.

Alone on a shelf sat my new journal—the leather one Vance had given me for my birthday with the black musical notes and vintage designs. I reread the inscription handwritten on the inside cover:
“The best time to plant a tree was twenty years ago. The second best time is today.”

He was right. It was time to start again. My fingers itched to write, but I had no idea where to begin. Where the other one left off? From today? How could I fit all my jumbled thoughts about life into neatly inked lines, when I wasn’t sure of anything anymore?

I was just sitting on my bed, admiring the blank pages when my phone started to ring. Curious, I looked down at the contact and was surprised to see where the call was coming from… Summer Elliott.

I seriously considered not answering. Good gracious, if she’d somehow found out about what happened in that park, she’d be out for my blood. I would have to tell her the truth—that I had no idea about her feelings for Vance when we kissed. I didn’t mean for it to happen. It wouldn’t happen again, and this time I meant it.

But when I answered the call, she spoke first.

“I’m so sorry. You were right, I was an awful friend to you. I got all paranoid about you and Vance. If you say nothing’s going on between you two, I should have believed you.”

…Awkward.

“I’m sorry, Scar. I’m so, so sorry. Can you forgive me?”

I sucked my lip into my teeth. What could I say to that? Especially since it turned out she was right? Guilt tugged at my conscience, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell her the truth. I reasoned that the thing between Vance and me was over anyway. No one needed to find out.

“Summer, I… yes, of course I forgive you.”
I am a horrible person.

“Really?”

“Really.” I was silent for a moment because this kind of thing didn’t happen to me often. In fact, that might’ve been the first real reconciliation I’d ever experienced. I clung selfishly to her apology for the promise of one less confrontation hanging over my head. With the hope that she would never find out, I actually began to feel a little lighter. “Wow… this worked out a whole lot better than last time.”

She grew quiet. “You mean with Lexi?”

I sighed, remembering the night of her birthday where we hashed it all out. “Yes.”

“Am I like her? I mean, was she right, what she said about me replacing her?”

I laid on my back, watching my the blades of my ceiling fan spin in an endless loop. “Sometimes you remind me of her. She liked dressing up and parties, too. She was always looking for opportunities to get me in a skirt and do my makeup.”

She giggled. “Did you ever let her?”

“Oh, yes. I went along with it for awhile. But it just wasn’t me, you know?”

“Yeah. But I’m not sure if this—all the black and gray—is you either.”

“You’re right. Guess I’m not sure who I really am, anymore.”

“Well… if you ever need help, like, figuring it out, I’m here. You know, if you want.”

I smiled at her offer. “You wanna know the main difference between you and Lexi?”

“What’s that?”

“You listened to me… Thank you.”

I could hear the smile return to her voice. “I’m having a Halloween party this weekend. It’ll be huge, close to a hundred people! There’ll be dancing and a costume contest, and Cole and Vance always set up this haunted house… Want to come?”

“Actually, I already told Ricky I’d go to this other party with him.”

“Oh. You two dating yet?”

She was relentless. I rolled my eyes even though she couldn’t see me. “Still just friends.”

“I believe you. Just checking!”

“See ya, Summer.”

“Later.”

I ended the call, took a breath, then grabbed a pen.

[Journal]

Even the best of intentions mean nothing when you realize you’ve just baked a cake with one rotten egg.

* * *

No sooner had we walked in the door, we were approached by two girls wearing rabbit ears, 6-inch heels, fishnet tights, and not much else. Welcome to the world of Ricky Storm—sex on a stick.

“Hi Ricky,” they said in unison, then giggled.

They were beautiful in an exotic kind of way, bold and built like Victoria Secret models. Their eyes were heavily lined with dark shadow, and their bronze skin shimmered as if they’d been bathed in gold. Ten pounds of hair fell in perfect waves, so long it reached their lower backs.

I internally cringed. I anticipated this happening, though not within the first five seconds of arrival.

Ricky had been nice enough to invite me out; I wasn’t going to thank him by killing his game. I would be fine on my own for a bit while he did his thing. The last thing I wanted was to be a burden to him, the way Lexi had felt on so many occasions.

Before I was able to slink away, he hooked an arm around my neck to keep me in place.

“Can you ladies point us to the keg?” he said without his signature smirk. “My friend here is thirsty.”

I shot him a curious glance while the other girls pouted and pointed. And then he led me away.

“You can go with them,” I smiled reassuringly. “I’m not naïve to what goes on at these parties. You don’t need to refrain for my sake.”

His dark brows came together. “I’m not gonna ditch you here.”

I gestured behind us. “
Bunnies
, Ricky.
Two
of them. Do you really want to miss out on that action?”

He chuckled and shook his head at me. “Bunnies ain’t got nothing on you, kiddo.”

I smiled gratefully and snuck in a hug. Certainly my company couldn’t compete with the kind of fun those two girls promised. But he was choosing me over sex—the very thing that made him famous in this little town. He was giving it up for one night. For his annoying little pseudo sister. For me.

“Want a drink?” he asked.

I nodded. He told me to stay put and disappeared in the direction of the keg.

I watched the costumed crowd curiously, amused by the variety of characters. A few of the guys looked pretty outrageous, but the girls all looked the same: a sexy unicorn, a sexy Robin Hood, even a sexy UPS driver. I very well could’ve stripped down to my underwear and fit right in.

I wasn’t wearing a costume per se, but I did play up the dark look a little bit with leather and studs, plus heavier eye liner than normal.

While Ricky was busy fetching our drinks, the guy standing next to me did a double take.

“Whoa, Goldilocks? That you?”

I recognized him. Dracula, AKA Bradley Poole, was in a few of my classes in high school. Though in four years, I couldn’t recall us ever sharing a conversation. He had played football and was crowned prom prince our junior year, if I recalled correctly. Apparently we were not on a first name basis.

“Yes, it’s me,” I gave a closed-lip smile. “How goes it, Vampire Boy?”

He grinned and rubbed a thumb along his lower lip. “Sorry. I meant Scarlett. Scarlett Rossi. See? I remember.”

I lifted an eyebrow in genuine surprise. Generally guys like Brad had better things to do than notice good girls like me. “Goldilocks” was predictable, even “Little Scarlett.” But how had he remembered my full name?

Realizing I was impressed, he moved closer and extended a hand. “Brad Poole. We had history class together senior year.”

Shaking his hand, I nodded slowly as if I had forgotten. “Right.”

He placed a hand over his heart. “You sang the National Anthem at graduation. Changed my life!”

I rolled my eyes at his dramatics, but smiled. “Please.” How could I forget about that? Up to that point, it was the most nerve-racking moment of my life. Miles had encouraged me to do it, of course (he had always been so showy). But for my first and last stint of singing solo in public, it didn’t turn out half bad.

“Seriously,” he insisted. “You should be on Broadway, or American Idol or something.”

That earned a laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“So how have you—”

“Beat it.”

We both turned at those two words. Ricky stood before us wearing a surly glower aimed straight at Brad. Brad’s brows shot up like rockets. He looked between the two of us with a comical expression.

That’s right. Goldilocks and Ricky Storm. Alert the media.

Brad had been friendly, but I didn’t come here tonight to chat up guys and pretend like we were old friends. I was here to spend time with Ricky. Hadn’t he done the same for me? So I took the red cup he offered and smiled gratefully.

“Thanks, Ricky.” He put his arm around me again, a possessive move, and I shot a cordial smile to the other boy. “Nice chatting with you, Brad.” Better to diffuse the situation than to give the wrong idea.