(12345)
ANNIVERSARY
Chapter 13- LACE
Look, I know you're worried, but I wanted to let you know he'll be home soon. No, I didn't tell them- Nobody knows, it's a surprise. But I thought you would want to know… a few hours. We need to get some things from Theresa's… Yeah, I figured I needed to grow up a little, come home… after everyone told me to. So wait at my house, or the pool house. You can surprise him, but in the good way, not the creepy stalker way… Okay? See you soon, Marissa.
(12345)
The house was dead silent. Julie's weeping had long since faded into alcoholic slumber, and Caleb was just plain dead.
Thelayout was different, but Marissa's bedroom was in the same place, first left after the stairs, and Summer's feet followed a familiar path over strange floors.
She tried to stay calm on the outside, but if the heat in her cheeks was any indication, she probably gave away their presence with the glow.
He'd called Marissa.
Not his parents, not her, but Marissa.
He had the best of intentions, but then Cohen always had. And they didn't work out.
She tried to swallow the anger, looking over at him, pale and spare in the pale moonlight seeping through diaphanous curtains, dry blood a stark black contrast to white skin.
She knew what the gesture had cost him, cost Ryan. She knew he had no idea what would happen, and in another part of her brain she understood that she would have done the same thing, not knowing.
Summer hadn't had a rage blackout in years. The last quiet moments, feverish hot, then nothing. Waking up on the floor in the center of destruction. When her mother left she destroyed three rooms in her home and broke her father's arm. She was ten. Everything she knows about that night came from a police report. Years of therapy and learning to avoid stressful situations had stopped them, but she felt one coming on now. Felt the sudden rush of heat curl through her abdomen, warm like the gun they'd left in the car. Sparkles danced in the corner of her eye, pale white and at first she thought it was just Seth, but she knew better.
Pausing on the stairs, she took a deep breath, closed her eyes. She couldn't let it happen tonight.
She wanted to remember everything.
(12345)
The security floodlights outside reflected off of the pool and into the room through balcony doors, throwing everything into sharp relief, black and amber. Summer could just make out the mural of Paris, painstakingly painted on the wall of Marissa's room in her father's house, now recreated to the last detail.
She'd handled the tools that night, feeling the thrill of the nail gun, of building something, and watching Cohen trace the delicate lines of a pastel sunset over the bare wall.
She'd slept with Cohen that night, in her own room. It wasn't the first time she'd had sex, or the first time they'd had sex, and in that sense, it wasn't a big deal at all. For the children of the rich and oblivious, sex was the equivalent of a handshake.
But it was the first time she'd made love, the first time she understood that the phrase meant more than a few steamy chapters in a romance novel.
The boy that held that paintbrush, that blushed and stuttered at her innuendoes, that remembered stupid little unimportant vital things; the boy that loved her, and the boy that she loved.
Summer caught a sharp, shuddering breath. She thought she was done with crying when she began planning, but he was beside her.
And he was dead.
And it was Marissa's fault.
She watched Seth move further into the searching darkness, but she was frozen in the doorway, and she felt, more than heard a familiar presence behind her.
"So it worked, huh? Nice."
Summer had never noticed before how flat Marissa's voice was. Even when the girl was upset, it never changed tone. Should that have been a clue?
"I don't see any birds in here, though. I'm pretty sure there's supposed to be something. Something to tie him here."
Summer turned slowly, every muscle fighting the impulse, expecting her friend to be different now, a monster, and hoping Seth would stay out of sight. Wherever he was.
But she was the same, still beautiful and empty.
"What's that phrase again? 'Achilles heel?' So, I'm assuming you brought him back. Well, he brought himself back, but you were right there with him. Where is my ex-boyfriend? Ryan? Are you in here? I hate to be cliché, but come out, come out, wherever you are."
Finally facing Marissa, Summer saw her reach over to the shelf, artfully arranged stylish books and knick-knacks, and pluck something hard and shining from a niche.
The night was full of guns.
"Hey Sum, do you know it was pure dumb luck that let me trip over your little plot? Well, that and Seth. A couple of his old comics stashed away in a box in the attic. I was looking for antiques and found these.
It figures Ryan would come back, all angst and wounded. If he didn't come back for Theresa, he came back for revenge on his little boyfriend. So where is he?"
"He's not here," a warm voice came rolling out of the darkness and Summer could have smiled, could have laughed, but she didn't dare let go. Her control was too tenuous now, too close to the edge, and she really did want to see what would happen.
Marissa did smile, and raised the gun from where she had been holding it, loose at her side. "Seth? Seth Cohen, is that you? Well, this is a surprise. I did not expect you to come back, all thirsty for vengeance."
"Ryan was too tired to fight. I never had the chance."
The voice was closer now, but Summer couldn't tear her eyes away from the gun in Marissa's hand, the muzzle spastically flickering from side to side. There was a light in the other girls eyes that Summer had never seen before. Or never admitted seeing.
"So this has to be exciting, huh? Back from the dead… A dark hero on a quest for revenge. Are you excited?" There was a sharp edge of hysteria in Marissa's voice, and her hand trembled. Whether it was from nerves or the weight of the gun, Summer wasn't sure.
"So, is this where I'm supposed to tell you my evil plan?"
"He should have called me. Or his mother," Summer's control wasstarting to slip, "Or anybody, called us and let us know he was coming home, that they were coming home. But he didn't. Because he's a boy, and boys are stupid. Because he's Cohen, and Cohen's stupid. Was stupid. So they called you. And you saw a chance. I have to say I'm a little surprised. Didn't think you were bright enough for a plot like this."
"That's your response? I have a gun and you're calling me stupid. I thought you were suicidal before, now I'm sure," Marissa's voice shook slightly, but her hand steadied and the muzzle of the gun was an unblinking eye on Summer, but the girl couldn't turn away. Cohen was still somewhere in the darkness.
"I guess I should have expected it, you might as well be a robot for all the emotion you've shown lately. Your sister is locked up at boarding school and she might as well have never existed, and the only time I've ever seen you upset is when you get drunk enough."
She could feel Seth now, even if she couldn't see him. A cool presence moving around her, standing behind Marissa both of the silhouetted in the doorway.
A cool, dry voice wisped out of the darkness.
"Look at the wall, Summer."
And she did. As much as she wanted to see what would happen, she didn't want to. This was her best friend, or had been. Summer wasn't sure how long they hadn't been friends, but for the sake of their history she wouldn't watch.
Well, she would try.
"Marissa, did you know that Crows never come back for themselves? It's true. There's always someone else involved, someone who didn't deserve the death they were given. We carry the weight of that pain, of that death, with us. And then we come back.
Do you know how Ryan felt when he found out the baby was dead? He was broken, and he was relieved. He was almost happy because he could come home. Home to his family, home to you. And he felt guilty about that, because he was a good person, a nice boy who would have been a good man.
Do you know what his problem was? What it always was? There were too many people like you in it. Too many people like me, people who needed to be saved from something, and he couldn't stop himself."
Seth's voice grew softer, more intimate. Summer couldn't stop herself from turning, slightly.
The boy's pale fingers wrapped around Marissa's hand, his thumb on her forefinger, around the trigger, as he raised the gun.
"Do you know what is last words were, as we were laying on the grass? Did you know that he couldn't even open his eyes? And he apologized to me. He was bleeding and dying on Theresa's lawn, and he said, 'I'm sorry.' I couldn't say anything, didn't have anything to say, for once in my life because even then, even while he was falling apart out there, I still expected him to save me. And he said, 'It's my fault.'
And I never said a word.
And it's your fault.
Don't you feel bad, Marissa? Don't you hate yourself, down deep inside? Somewhere under your Mystic Tan?
Why, I'd bet that sometimes you just wish you were dead"
Gently, unstoppably, pale fingers wrapped around tan and guided a pistol up, angling it precisely.
(12345)
As they threw the body over the balcony, it splashed satisfyingly in the pool.
(12345)
Note: Well, this is usually where the apology goes, and this is no exception. Frankly, this chapter kicked my ass. I knew where I was going, but not how to get there. I've been writing and deleting for the last few months. (Plus, also super busy. My temp job became permanent in February and the hours were crazy for a while.)
If you liked this, please let me know, if you hated it, let me know that too. Also, if you have any questions.
There are two more chapters to go, mostly wrap-up stuff, so if you have a question about something say the word and I'll try to answer in the updates. Which I hope will come more quickly than this did.
Review like it's your job.