AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is a shorter chapter in comparison to the others. Originally, this and the following chapter were one, and it was the final chapter, but I decided to split it into two. Finale soon!
"Fucking bitch!" Julio muttered under his breath as he paced the room. He was biting his thumbnail, and he'd been doing so for so long that there was almost nothing left to bite. He anxiously approached the two-way mirror, where his brother and an investigator stood. Sitting in the next room was Dahlia.
After Megan and Charlie's escape, it didn't take long for the cops to catch up to the kidnapper, but when they found her, she was alone.
"Ms. Martin, you will be going to prison for a long time," the intimidating investigator in the next room said. He sat down in the chair across from the girl. "It's over. You're done. Just tell us where he is." He's been at this for hours, and he was both exhausted and frustrated.
"I told you I don't know," she claimed, maintaining her innocence. "He ran off after they did. If he hasn't been found, it's because he doesn't want to be." She leaned forwards a bit in her seat as if she was having an exclusive conversation with her best friend. "Drake's a junkie. Did you know that? Do you know how many times he's up and blanked in the time that I've known him? He's probably relapsed again," she said. "He's a prostitute, too. You might wanna check the truck stop."
Julio couldn't stand it anymore. Enraged, he stormed out of the room.
Down the hall, Audrey was seated on a bench with her daughter. She was crying, and Dee was next to her, offering positivity and prayer. When Julio stalked by, Dee watched him curiously to get a read on his body language. He excused himself, and Audrey nodded and thanked him, then he hurried after his boyfriend's little brother.
"Julio," he called.
"I'm not gonna drink," was the first thing the young man said. He didn't stop walking.
He's been wanting to get drunk. Going through this without the aid of alcohol was fucking hard, but he didn't want to make this more challenging on everyone else.
"Hey," Dee reached out and grabbed his shoulder, turning him around.
Julio shoved it away. "Get the fuck off of me!"
"Come here," the man said softly. He embraced his friend tightly, and Julio's tough exterior immediately dissipated. Dee held him as he sobbed. "We'll find him. Everything's gonna be alright."
"She's fucking killed him!"
"Did she say that?" Dee asked, his heart falling into the pit of his stomach.
"No. But I know she did. Otherwise, he'd be here."
"That's not true. She could be holding him captive somewhere."
"Then why would she try to leave the country? She killed him! I know it! I—" He choked on his sobs, and Dee held him even tighter.
Back in the room, the investigator was still trying to get information from the suspect. "Let's go over this again. This is what we know. On Saturday between the times of eight and eight-fifteen p.m., you crashed your vehicle into Julio Santos' vehicle, which was occupied by Mr. Parker, his younger sister and his daughter. You put them in your truck and took them to your father's guest house, which is where you've been staying for the past month. On Thursday, Megan and Charlie escaped and called the police from a restaurant nearby. When police arrived on the scene, both you and your ex were gone. You were arrested five hours later, just ten minutes from the airport when a patrol officer spotted a vehicle matching the description given by a neighbor. You were alone. Found in your car was a suitcase. In the trunk, we found a pair of handcuffs, a shovel, a syringe and a small jar of an unidentified liquid. Also discovered in the vehicle was a .44 magnum revolver, missing one bullet."
"It's my father's gun. I didn't even know it was in there."
"What's the liquid in the jar?"
The young woman didn't answer.
"It's being tested as we speak. We'll have a toxicology report soon. You might as well tell me now."
"I don't know what it is."
"Did you use it to kill Drake Parker?"
"I didn't kill anyone," she said.
Knock! Knock!
The investigator stood and opened the door. There was some quiet discussion, then he left the room, and they both entered the observation room.
"This just came in from the lab." The new addition passed a manila folder to the man who had been interrogating Dahlia. He explained it while the other read over what it said. "We had the victim's DNA on file after two arrests: one for theft four years ago and the other for a rape claim made by the suspect. We crossed-checked that with the hair sample found in the trunk of the vehicle and identified it as a match."
Ricardo rubbed his biceps anxiously as he listened in on what was being reported. He wanted to proclaim his friend's innocence of the bogus accusation Dahlia had made, but he didn't want to be disruptive. He was grateful that they were letting him listen in, so he didn't want to do anything that would make himself a bother.
"There were no matches for any of the samples found in the interior of the car?"
"No, sir. Just the trunk. The blood samples found inside the trunk and on the syringe were a match as well."
"And what about the unidentified liquid?"
"It's Succinylcholine, a neuromuscular blocking agent. It's used to induce temporary paralysis during surgery. This is especially dangerous in the victim's case because of the severe burns mentioned in the statement made by his sister. Burn victims shouldn't use Succinylcholine because it can cause hyperkalemia."
Ricardo spoke up. "What's that?"
"It's when your blood has too much potassium."
"What does that mean?" he asked nervously.
"Hyperkalemia can cause life-threatening heart rhythm changes, heart arrhythmias, episodes of periodic paralysis, and even cardiac arrest."
The investigator who had been standing with Ricardo spoke up. "Let me go in there and reason with her. If she had no intentions of killing him like she claims, then she might talk when she learns that the drugs she administered could be fatal."
The man gave it some thought before passing the folder along. This was a classic case of good-cop/bad-cop. The first investigator wasn't getting very far. Now it was time for a different approach.
Ricardo said, "Dahlia's a narcissist. If you stroke her ego a little bit, she might open up."
The "good cop" nodded her thanks for the tip before heading into the next room.
Back in the hallway, Julio had calmed down, and Dee was leading him over to the Parkers. Audrey stood and hugged her son's best friend.
"We'll find him," she said. "Now that Dahlia's in custody, it won't be long. She'll talk. They said she didn't want a lawyer. She'll slip up."
Julio knew that those words of comfort had come from Dee because Dee has just given him the same assurance. When he and Audrey separated, he sat down next to his best friend's little sister, who seemed extremely distraught. "How are you doing, Megs?"
When she opened her mouth to speak, a lump rose in her throat. Instead of words, sobs left her lips. She hung her head and covered her eyes.
Julio pulled her against his chest and rested his chin atop her head just like Drake had done to her days before when she was scared. He rocked her back and forth slightly, and for a moment, she pretended he was her brother.
"I just feel like it's my fault," she choked out.
"Hey, it's not your fault," the young man disagreed.
"I told him I wouldn't leave him and then I did."
"The most important thing to him was making sure that you and Charlie were safe. I don't think he regrets that."
He knew that Megan was going through a lot right now. He'd been filled in on the statement she'd given the police. In order to get her and Charlie to safety, Drake had distracted their kidnapper by engaging her in sex. Megan had had no other choice but to hide under the bed and listen to it all while her brother worked on getting Dahlia's clothes off so he could get the key to the girl.
If he was dead, those sounds she had heard, whatever view she'd had — those would be her last memories of her older brother...and that was okay. Drake was a hero. He is a hero. Why did everyone keep thinking about him like he was dead already?
"Can you keep an eye on her?" Audrey sniffled. "I'm gonna step over there and call my ex husband."
Julio nodded. He never let go of the girl.
Ms. Nichols made her way to a quiet spot at the end of the hall and called Walter's number. It didn't take him long to answer.
"Hey, Audrey. Have you heard anything new?" he asked immediately.
"Um, yeah." She was crying again. "Megan and Charlie got away and called the police from a restaurant. We're at the police station now."
"Oh my god, that great!" He breathed a sigh of relief. "Are they hurt?"
"Megan's got a few scrapes and bruises from the wreck, but that's it."
"What about Drake?"
"He's still missing." When those words left her lips, she felt her throat tighten, and her face contorted.
"Did Megan say where they were being kept?"
It took a moment for the woman to be able to speak. Her voice cracked and went up several octaves when she was finally able to get some words out. "She did, but the house was empty when the police got there. They found Dahlia near the airport, but Drake wasn't with her. They said she had—" She choked out a sob. "—had handcuffs and a gun and a shovel."
"Oh, Audrey, I'm so sorry," he said. "That doesn't necessarily mean anything, though. We just have to stay positive."
"I know," the mother agreed. "I'm just so scared, Walter."
"I wish there was something I could do."
"Me, too. I feel like I'm just sitting here waiting around when I should be out there looking for him."
"We just have to trust that the police are doing everything to find him."
"Yeah." She sniffled and wiped her eyes. "Anyway, let me get back to Megan. I just wanted to update you and let you know that she and Charlie are safe."
"I'm glad you called," her ex-husband said.
"Can you let Josh know for me?"
"I will."
When they ended the call, she headed back to her daughter, but stopped along the way when she saw Dee standing in the doorway of a room. Curious to know if she had missed any new leads within the last couple minutes, she asked, "What's going on?"
"They're gonna gather a search party. They're planning where to look."
"Did she say anything?"
"I don't think so. I think, since they found the shovel, they're gonna start looking through every wooded area between her dad's house and the airport."
"That means they must believe he's..." She couldn't get herself to say the word. For what felt like the hundredth time this week, her tears started up again. "They're not even looking for him; they're looking for his body."
Dee wrapped his arms around her and held her close. It was hard to offer comfort when things seemed to keep getting worse and worse, but luckily he was a positive person, and he had enough positivity to go around.
Back in the observation room, Ricardo was hanging on to every last word that left Dahlia's mouth. Finally, it seemed as though they were beginning to get somewhere. Stroking her ego really did help, but she was still a bit tight-lipped with the information.
After a few minutes, an officer came to inform Ricardo about the search party on Dee's request. The man decided to join the others because he felt like his time would be of better use out there where he could actually do something. He had the numbers for Drake's closest friends in his phone because this wasn't the first time he's had to call around when the boy went missing. He sent a group text with a short update and let them know there would be a search party. He told them he would inform them where and when the second he found out.
"Okay, so Samantha and Brett are coming, and Gemini and Sawyer," Ricardo told the others, then he looked down at his phone when they heard it ding. "Theo's coming with his mom."
"Hannah said she'll help," his brother replied. "And Mrs. Hayfer and her husband."
"I can message some of my friends," said Megan.
"I'll call Walter back, too," the victim's mother said, "and Josh and Rochelle will come. Oh, and I can call some friends from church. I'm sure they'll get the word out."
"My mom and dad said they'll come," said Dee.
His boyfriend said, "I still need to call mamá."
"I'll call Dad and Gabrielle," Julio offered.
"One of the officers said they'll post about it on one of their social media accounts," said Dee, "so they're expecting a lot more people to show up. We'll find him."
No one voiced this, but they all had the same thought. If they found him out in the woods, wouldn't that mean he was dead?
Ricardo glanced at his brother when he heard him sigh with frustration, but he didn't keep his eyes away from the ground for too long. "You okay?"
Julio was a few feet away from him. He also had his eyes glued to the ground. "Not really."
In the distance, they could hear those who had joined their search party calling out Drake's name.
"Everything just feels so surreal," the younger boy said.
Ricardo sighed, too. "I know."
"I know I need to be positive, but I just can't stop thinking... What if...what if he's—"
"I know."
"I just feel so bad because I didn't talk to him the day he disappeared. I didn't even see him because I was with Hannah all day."
"He doesn't expect you to hang out with him everyday."
"But still. I should've at least checked in. You know he was acting weird before this happened, like when he blew up on you for no reason. I can't stop thinking, like...did he know something? Did he know this would happen? Did Dahlia threaten him? Or maybe did he relapse? Something was clearly wrong, and I blew it off because I wasn't in the mood to deal with any of his drama. I just fucking wish I wouldn't have done that."
"It wasn't any of that," the man said.
"How do you know?"
After weighing the pros and cons, Ricardo decided to tell him the truth because he didn't want his brother to create even worse scenarios in his mind. "Look, the morning he disappeared, he woke me and Dee up crying. He told me to tell you. I just felt like this wasn't an appropriate time."
"Tell me what?"
Before the man could speak, an officer approached and interrupted their conversation. "We haven't found anything yet. Looks like some people are calling it a night, but we'll continue in the morning."
"I'm gonna stay a little longer," Ricardo said.
The man nodded with understanding. "I'll have someone come by with flashlights. Make sure you stay with your partner. We don't need another missing person on our hands." He started to walk away, then he added, "Try not to stay out here too long. I know you boys wanna find him, but our chances will be better tomorrow in the daylight. We'll need you awake and alert then."
Ricardo gave a short nod. "Yes, sir."
When the man was gone, Julio picked their conversation back up. "What did Drake want you to tell me?"
"It's nothing related to this or anything. He just didn't wanna have to talk about it, so he wanted me to."
"Yeah..."
"When you guys got checked for STDs, he found out he has HIV."
"What?" Julio said airily, so shocked that he'd lost his breath for a moment. "Oh my god. Shit, I was so worried about myself that I didn't even think to ask him."
"He probably wouldn't have wanted to tell you right then anyway. I'm sure he's glad you didn't."
"And he got it from the mental hospital?"
"We think so."
"That is so fucked up," he said with frustration and sympathy.
"He took it pretty hard," the man said, "but Dee's got a cousin with the disease. He told him about how his cousin lives a normal, healthy life, and I think it made Drake a little less scared."
Julio couldn't help but mumble, "I bet he's really scared now."
"Hey, we'll find him."
Him? Or his body? Julio couldn't help but think. He kept those negative thoughts to himself, though.
"We just have to stay positive."
His little brother nodded.
"So after he found out about the infidelity, he left," the interrogator said.
Dahlia replied smugly. "And within twenty-four hours, the plonker was begging me to take him back. His life was absolute rubbish without me. That's all the time it took for him to end up back at that truck stop, ready to spread his cheeks to anyone who would give him enough for a fix."
Ricardo clenched his teeth together as he listened in from the other room. He hated the way the kidnapper was talking about his best friend. What made it worse was that Drake's mother was right next to him, listening to her son's ex-fiancée spill all the intimate, half-truths of their relationship.
They'd only been here for about thirty minutes. They'd hit the wooded area early this morning and, after hours of searching, Audrey received a call from one of the investigators informing her that Dahlia was beginning to open up more. She told Ricardo, and the two left the search party to come straight here, hoping they'd have answers upon their arrival. Instead, they still didn't know where Drake was, but they were getting somewhere.
"Damn," the investigator said. "You must've had him wrapped around your finger."
She shrugged although the woman's words clearly meant more to her than she was letting on.
"It seems like you had a lot of control over him," the officer said. "I'm impressed."
Dahlia was quiet for a moment, as if feeling her out — trying to figure out if she was genuine — but she couldn't help herself. "He made it pretty easy," she boasted. "At least, for me."
"So you were the one who — for lack of a better phrase — wore the pants in the relationship."
She confirmed this. "He would do anything for me. He'd make me breakfast in bed, and then I'd leave to shag someone while he stayed home cooking and cleaning."
"Do you think he knew what you were up to?"
"I feel like he did, but he kept lying to himself because he didn't wanna believe it."
"So he never confronted you then?"
"He wouldn't dare," the girl replied with a smile.
"Sounds like he was scared of you."
"He certainly was."
"You had a lot of power over him," the investigator noted. "Do you like feeling powerful?"
"Who doesn't?"
"In what other ways did you have power over him?"
"A better question would be: In what ways did I not? I picked his clothes out for him in the mornings. I told him what he could and couldn't eat, when he could go out, what time he had to be back." She added, "And that was only when I was letting him leave the house. When he pissed me off, I wouldn't shag him for weeks, and he wasn't allowed to masturbate. He wouldn't do it, either, because he didn't want to make me angrier than I already was."
"How did you know he was following your rules?"
"I was always watching him."
"What about when he wasn't living with you — when he moved back in with the Santos brothers?"
"I still had my ways."
"Cameras?" The woman explained further. "I was told that Drake swore you set up cameras in his home. That's pretty clever. How long were they up before he finally caught on?"
Her wording made Clementine feel proud enough to answer. "Nearly a year."
Ricardo felt his skin crawl. Who knows where those cameras are? Who knows what she had seen — what she had heard?
"So you were pretty much," the investigator continued, "all-knowing." Inferring that she was like God was another methodical way that she was stroking her ego. "What's something you saw on the cameras that made you angry?"
She hardly had to think about it. "This one time, Julio came in his room and started talking about wanting to go out to a bar for his birthday. Drake said he'd go, and it really irked me that he made these plans without asking first. When he came over the next day, I waited all day for him to check with me."
"You wanted to give him a chance to make things right."
"Exactly, but the bellend didn't bring it up until it was nearly time for him to leave, and when he did, he didn't ask. He just said. Some bloody audacity."
"What happened then?"
"We argued. I yelled, then he yelled, then I called him names. He was too scared to go that far with me, though."
"Did he back down then?"
"No, he didn't."
"What did you do?"
"Well, I hit him." She seemed hesitant to say this, so she over-exaggerated her confidence level.
"If you ask me, he deserved it." This eased Dahlia's nerves. "I mean, sometimes you just have to put a guy back in his place. He got lucky that's all you did, in my opinion."
"Exactly!"
"How did he react when you hit him?"
"He shut right up and sat down on the couch."
"That made you feel powerful, didn't it?"
"It did," she admitted without reservation. She even had a smile, which sickened the victim's best friend.
"What about when you successfully brought Drake and the girls to your house? That was a big feat for one petite young woman."
"A lot of people underestimate my strength."
"Megan Parker claimed that she could hear you torturing her brother from the next room. She said you let him visit one night and that he reeked of gasoline and—" She thumbed through the papers in the manila folder in front of her to make sure she had the right information. "—had been beaten and burned."
"He brought that on himself," Dahlia defended.
"Honestly, Ms. Martin, after hearing what kind of person he is, I don't blame you," the woman said, luring her in further. "Tell me, did you really drench him with gasoline?"
"I did."
"Why?"
"He said some other bitch's name in his sleep," she said. "People think I'm manipulative, but it's him. He played me multiple times. He swore down he loved me, then he smashed a guitar against my head. He promised to marry me, then he tried to run. He was pulling at my heart strings like I'm some kind of puppet."
"Was your intent to set him on fire in that moment?"
"Maybe."
"What stopped you?" the interrogator asked. She felt like she had her right where she wanted her, and she was ready to leap.
"He begged me not to."
"What about when you took him into the woods? Did he beg you then?"
"Yes."
"But surely you didn't let him take you for a fool again, did you?"
"Absolutely not," the suspect replied.
"You must've felt so powerful when you were standing over him, watching him beg for his life like that. You got the opportunity to experience something that only a small portion of people get to do: play God." While she had Dahlia all buttered up, she laid the bait. "Did you feel powerful when you killed Drake Parker?"
The silence in the observation room was deafening. Everyone was holding their breath. Ms. Nichols gripped Ricardo's hand with terror. It didn't take Dahlia too long to answer, but to them, it felt like an eternity had passed by before they heard that voice again.
"Yes."
Ricardo had to catch the victim's mother before she weakly fell onto her knees. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly.
"No... No, no no, no, no..." Audrey pleaded.
Her sobbing got progressively harder until she was hyperventilating. Ricky, too, was crying. Hundreds of thoughts ran through his mind. He wondered if she was telling the truth and if his friend had felt betrayed that no one had come to his rescue in time. He wondered if it had been quick and painless. He wondered what he could've done differently to prevent this. He wondered how he would break the news to his brother and how Audrey would tell Megan. He wondered if Charlie would understand or if she'd continue asking for her father. He wondered if the toddler would forget Drake by the time she got older due to the relatively short amount of time they spent together.
"Not my son! Not my son! Not my baby boy! Oh God! No!"
*FLASHBACK*
Once Drake found the glow-in-the-dark handle, he pulled it, and the lid of the trunk popped open. He was instantly blinded by the bright light shining through the canopy of trees. This was the first bit of sunlight he was exposed to in nearly a week. He brushed that obstacle to the side. He had no time to waste. The captive mustered up all the strength he could, grunting as he maneuvered his way out of the trunk. He was still weak after the paralysis shot she had given him, but he was starting to regain function again. This was a relief, for he'd originally thought that he would be paralyzed forever.
He leaned over the edge...further...further...until he became top-heavy enough to fall onto the crunchy leaves. He groaned at the pain he felt in his broken hand and rib upon impact. Drake didn't give himself long to focus on the pain. He couldn't afford to. The young man began dragging himself along the ground. Still unclothed due to Dahlia's hurry, he felt twigs and thorny vines and splinters scrape and poke his skin.
He wasn't making as much progress as he'd hoped, and when he heard leaves crunching, he started to realize that maybe this escape attempt was a bit premature. He clawed desperately at the dirt as the footsteps got closer and closer until...
"Don't move. Stop. I said stop!" However, the boy didn't listen, and he paid a price for it.
BANG!
Drake screeched at the sudden pain. He lifted his hand and could hardly see the bloody hole because of how watery his eyes were and how shaky his hand was. He let out a cry of pain when his side was kicked, rolling him onto his back. Now he was forced to stare up at the girl who wanted to kill him.
"Mmplease..." he begged shakily.
"You should've listened to me."
Warm tears streamed down his face like waterfalls as he pitifully gazed up at her. When he looked at her, she reminded him of his father. She had that same look in her eyes that he'd had when he'd finally snapped and tried to murder his son. Drake knew it well because it was an expression that seemed impossible to force out of his head every time he closed his eyes at night. He knew then that there was no way he would get out of this situation alive. Death wasn't going to let him off the hook so fast this time.
Knowing he didn't stand a chance, he closed his eyes and waited for the bullet to penetrate his skull. As he silently gave up, he choked out a few sobs. While he laid there, his mind drifted to thoughts of the past. In a flash, it seemed that every bad thing he had ever done showed themselves in his memories. Leaving the world without making amends for those things felt wrong, but now he'd never get the chance to go back. So much of his time had been wasted on things that had devastated and destroyed those around him. This was the first time he had ever fully regretted taking those pills. He'd always felt bad about the Triple C's, but at the same time, he'd known that, given a second chance, he would've done it all over again. Those years he spent getting high on Charlie were the best years of his life. Now he felt differently. Now he felt like, given a second chance, he genuinely never would've started using. So much of his time had been wasted on short highs and quick fixes. There were years with his mom he'd never get back. Years with Megan, with Charlie, with Josh, with Kenzly...all ruined because of him. He could never get that back, and it was his own fault.
Drake's shaking only grew as the agonizing seconds passed. Filled with regret and shame, he found himself praying for the first time in a long time. Religion wasn't a strong suit for him, but his mom was Christian, and he'd grown up with those ideas. Her faith grew stronger when he left her those three years, so she would often try to get him to join her and the family at church every Sunday. Maybe he should've gone. He didn't really know any prayers. All he could do was beg for forgiveness. If his time on this earth was cut short — or maybe it was that he had overstayed his welcome — he was hoping that maybe God still had a place for him in Heaven. He wasn't sure he could handle anymore suffering, and if Hell was any worse than what his life on this planet had been like, he wanted to make sure he didn't end up there.
Not knowing what would happen to him next was terrifying. He definitely regretted not taking his mom up on her constant church invites. All the things he would've done differently...if only he was given a second chance...
A cry of pain left him when he felt a sharp jab in the crook of his neck again. He opened his eyes and saw Dahlia hovering over him, holding a now empty syringe. "C..." Once again, he felt himself losing control of his body. He felt heavy and weak. "...Clementine..." he whispered, but he was unable to say more after that.
"Don't think you're gonna be getting off so easy, Drake." She held up the gun. "This is just to keep you in line. I don't plan on killing you with it."
A pained cry left him when she grabbed his hands — one broken and one wounded with a gunshot — and started dragging him across the rough terrain. He could do nothing to fight it. Her car was parked in a clearing, so she pulled him to a denser spot in the woods. She wanted to make sure she was a good ways away from where anyone may be walking. She didn't think many people came out here, but it was better to be safe than sorry. She didn't want to risk anyone finding him.
Minutes passed as she dragged him deeper and deeper into the forest. It got darker as well because the trees were closer together here, preventing the sunshine from coming through the canopy. The brush became thicker and scraped his skin even more. Drake tried to speak — to beg her, to tell her how scared he was, anything — but all that came out were grunts and groans. A yelp left him as a sharp, fallen branch snagged at his skin. Dahlia continued yanking him along, so the branch ripped his skin open and tore a long line down his side. His incoherent pleading gave way to sobs.
Shortly after, they came to a stop next to a steep hill. Finally, Dahlia let his arms go, and Drake mistakenly thought they had arrived at their destination. However, she moved behind him, then nudged him with her foot, knocking him over the edge. Drake's limp body tumbled and flipped as it skidded across the loud leaves. He couldn't do anything to slow himself down or protect himself. When he reached the rocky bottom, his broken hand slammed against a large stone, and he screeched. He still had momentum, so he continued to roll and spin. His skull got a good crack against a rock before landing in a small creek. His body came to a stop and, unfortunately, his head was resting on his cheek, with half his face underneath the water and the other half above.
"I'll be right back," Dahlia called, but her ex could only hear out of one ear. "I've got to go back for my bag. Hang tight."
Spluttering sounds left him as he struggled to breathe. He tried hard to move his arms so that he could lift himself out of the creek, but they weren't responding to his demands. Bubbles formed around his lips like a drooling baby, and they floated down the gentle stream. He was lucky that he had fallen with the current and not against it. Had he landed on his other cheek, the water would be rushing into his mouth, and it would surely drown him. This way, at least he had a chance, although he was still struggling.
As he laid there alone in the dim, scary woods, he wished for his mom. He wanted her to take care of all his boo-boos like she had when he was younger. He wanted her to hold him and rock him back and forth while softly singing into his ear. He wanted her to comfort him and promise him that everything would be alright. He wanted her to kiss his forehead and, this time, he wouldn't pretend he was too cool for that. He wanted her to hold his hand and be there for him while his vengeful ex-fiancée murdered him in cold blood.
Suddenly, Drake's head was lifted up, and Dahlia held him there by his hair while he gasped for fresh air. "You okay?" she asked. "Come on. We're almost there." She stepped over the small creek, then gripped his hands again and pulled him the rest of the way across as the surrounding rocks peeled at his skin.
Once they reached the other side, she stopped again, then let him go. Dahlia removed her pack and kneeled over it as she unzipped it. She pulled out a large tarp. She unfolded it, then laid out the clear plastic. After that, the young woman moved over to Drake and rolled him onto the tarp. Once he was in place, she dropped her bag and a shovel next to him so that she didn't have to struggle to carry it all. Finally, she grabbed the corners of the tarp and continued pulling him along. The plastic was an added layer of protection, so unless something was large or sharp enough to poke through, his skin ceased to be irritated.
It was a few more minutes before they came to a stop. The area was much more open than what they had just traveled through, and Drake could see the sky perfectly now on one side of him, for there were no trees in that direction. Instead, there was a complete drop-off.
"Whew!" Dahlia huffed, then she grabbed her bag and sat down on the ground. "I need a break."
She opened it to retrieve her water and a granola bar. She took a long drink, then pulled off the wrapper and took a bite of her snack. As she sat there and chewed, her eyes landed on Drake. His head was in the other direction, and he was looking out at the blue sky. Dahlia pushed herself forwards just long enough to grab his chin and turn his head the other way, then she sat back down on her bottom and continued eating. They stayed like this in silence for a bit, but she soon broke it.
"Don't you look at me like that," she said. "With those pathetic, I'm-sorry, puppy dog eyes of yours. You brought this on yourself."
Drake couldn't even respond if he'd wanted to.
"All I wanted was to have a family with you. You said you wanted that, too. You said you wanted to be with me. You lied. You were playing on my feelings. Everyone always made me out to be this awful bitch towards you, but I was justified in everything I did. You hid this other side from them — this deceptive, selfish side. You soaked up all the pity and played the victim card," she accused. "You're as bad as I am. Worse!"
He didn't have to listen to this. If she was just going to kill him anyway, he didn't have to go out like a pathetic pussy. Unfortunately, he couldn't leave or cover his ears, so instead, he closed his eyelids.
"Hey, look at me. Hey!"
Furious, Dahlia dropped her snack and stood, then marched over to him. She grabbed him by one arm and tugged. With each step she took, she yanked as she pulled him across the dirt. He screamed when his arm was pulled out of socket, but no matter how loud he yelled, she didn't stop until she reached the edge of the cliff. She pushed his abdomen over it so the entire top half of his body was suspended above the six hundred foot drop. He was only planted in place by his bottom half on the edge and her fingers intertwined in his hair.
"You're not really in the position to be trying to act like a tough guy," Dahlia threatened. "I will toss you over the edge so fast. How do you think it'll feel when you splat against those rocks down there? You won't even be able to muster a pitiful attempt to protect yourself by putting your arms out in front of you to break your fall. You're gonna see those rocks getting closer and closer, and you won't be able to do a bloody thing about it. You don't wanna fucking tempt me, Drake. Say yes if you understand me."
Drake was sobbing again. He was fucking terrified. Tears dripped off of his face and fell so far that he could no longer see them. His arms dangled uselessly, like he was ready to take that swan dive all the way to the bottom. He could hardly breathe.
"SAY IT!"
The sudden loud noise and the fact that she dropped his head lower scared him, so he immediately replied with a scream.
"Say it! Tell me you understand!"
Instead, he just continued yelling out. It took her a moment to realize that he was obeying her; he just couldn't exactly make any specific words. After that bit of panic, Drake felt her grab his arm and use that and his hair to pull him back to safety. He didn't care about the pain it caused him. He was just glad he wasn't currently plummeting to his death right now.
"Don't thank me just yet," came her chilling voice. "I'm still gonna kill you. I just have something better in mind, but if you piss me off again, you sodding plonker, I won't hesitate to push you over the edge and listen to you scream the whole way down. Yeah?" His confirmation came out on a sob.
Instead of getting back to her snack, Dahlia picked up the shovel she had brought, and she started in on the ground. Drake could do nothing but lay there and watch her dig his grave. As he wept, he started to realize that he really didn't mind dying. Sure, the fear of what the actual process felt like beforehand, during and afterwards frightened him, but as far as just no longer existing — he was okay with that. What had possessed him to fight to stay alive was the toll this would take on those who loved him. He couldn't bear what this would do to his mother, and the idea that Julio would lose his one and only friend, fellow addict and accountability partner devastated him. He knew how much his little sister wanted a relationship with him, and knowing that she'd never get the chance — that he'd wasted all that time — filled him with self-loathing. And Ricardo...God, this man had sacrificed so much for Drake...and it was all for nothing. He wished his mentor was here now so that he could tell him just how sorry he was that all his hard work had come down to this. One of Drake's biggest mistakes was getting with Dahlia. Ricardo had known this, and he'd tried several times to get his best friend to understand, but the love-struck young man would never listen. Now Ricardo was going to spend the rest of his life blaming himself for not trying harder.
All Drake wanted right now was to tell his family and friends how sorry he was and how much he loved them, especially Charlie. His loss would be most crucial to Charlie. He hadn't even known her for five months, and he spent one and a half months of that in the psych ward and another large chunk fucked up on pills. She's young. She won't remember him when she's older. She'll grow up and only feel hatred for the man who had abandoned her. She'd have neither a father, nor a mother, and she would blame herself when it was Drake's fault. He's the one who had caused all this pain. He ruined her life, and Charlie was the one person he never wanted to fail.
He feared seeing his father in the afterlife. After all the shit he'd given Martin about being a shit father...and he was no better. He was worse, in fact. At least Martin had fucking stayed. He never once abandoned his kids. This was Drake's second time leaving Charlie behind. He wasn't looking forward to the hell his dad would give him for that. He felt so ashamed of himself. He was too embarrassed to face the man. Wherever his dad was now, Drake didn't want to go.
As Dahlia dug, Drake started to realize what kind of death she had in store for him. She planned to bury him alive. He wondered how long it would be until he ran out of air. He wondered if it would be fairly quick or if he'd be down there suffering for a while. He wasn't sure he could picture a death worse than that. He wished she would've set him on fire back at the house. Sure, it would've been accompanied by excruciating, agonizing pain, but it wouldn't have lasted as long. It seemed that, every time he tried to save himself, it only made things worse for him in the end.
As the time passed, he noticed that he was beginning to regain mobility of his limbs. He kept this on the down-low this time. He had a choice to make. Option one, which wasn't actually an option for him, was to do nothing and let her do to him as she pleased. Option two was that he could attempt to escape and chance ending up in the underground bed she was making for him. The issue with this is that he wasn't anywhere near strong enough to actually get onto his feet, and he couldn't wait too much longer because she was close to finishing his final resting place. If he failed, he wouldn't get another chance. He would seal his fate under the dirt. The third option was that he could take his life — and death — into his own hands and crawl over the edge of the drop-off. He would definitely die, but it'd be much faster than being buried alive. Another problem with this option is that he didn't know how strong he was since he couldn't really test it out without his kidnapper noticing. The ledge wasn't incredibly far from where he was now, but it was far enough to make the possibility of succeeding questionable.
Basically, none of his options were good options, and they all most likely would result in his death. Option one: death, obviously. Option two: if he somehow did manage to get onto his feet and actually start running, there was no doubt in his mind that she would shoot him, then proceed with her plans to bury him, leaving him to bleed out or suffocate — whichever happened first. Option three: also death, but it would be his own doing, ruining her master plan, and it would cause the least amount of suffering. It seemed like his mind was already made up.
Drake's crying picked up as he thought about how little time he had left. He couldn't stop thinking about the lengthy fall. It would've been easier had he not seen it before, but now he knew exactly how far it was and what was waiting for him at the bottom.
Still, he knew he couldn't keep putting it off because he didn't want to talk himself out of it. He prayed one final prayer, asking for forgiveness for this one last sin he was about to commit...
...and then he made a break for it.
Dahlia responded immediately, almost as if she had been waiting for this. She probably knew how long it took for the chemicals to wear off. She was studying to be a doctor after all. She ran after him as fast as she could. Unfortunately for Drake, he was still having a lot more trouble than he thought with his legs, so his plan rested solely on his weak arms. This would've been much easier without the gunshot wound, dislocated shoulder, and broken hand and thumb. He could hear her approaching fast. The leaves at her feet swished and crunched.
Almost there...
He was almost there. His body was hurting and he was exhausted, but he kept pushing. It'll be over soon, he reminded himself. This'll all be over soon.
Finally, Drake reached the end of the line, but just as his fingertips gripped the edge, he felt his leg being grabbed. He screamed with both fear and desperation. He got his other hand over the edge and tried to pull, but she dragged him back. He continued screeching as he clawed at the dirt, breaking his fingernails in the process.
Once they were a safe distance away from the cliff, Dahlia flipped him over, then pointed the gun at the center of his chest. She was panting as she glared into his eyes with rage. She knew she wouldn't shoot him, though, so instead, she gave him a good punch, then another. When the girl started to straighten, however, Drake grabbed her arm and brought her closer. This wasn't some preparation or positioning for an attack. He didn't try taking the gun from her. Rather, he was giving up. He held her wrist and pulled the weapon towards him until it was pressed against the spot right between his breastplates.
"Please," he said quietly with tears in his eyes. "Please. Do it. Shoot me. Please. Pull the trigger. It's okay. It's okay. Please. Please. Please." He was shaking underneath her. He was crying so hard that his eyes were bloodshot and puffy, and his nose had snot dripping down both nostrils. "I'm begging you. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please." Next, he heard her cock the gun. He closed his eyes and choked out a strangled sob. His hands trembled as they gripped hers and pointed the gun at his own chest. He was so scared that his teeth were chattering, and he was close to pissing himself.
Suddenly, she pulled herself out of his grip, and when she did this, Drake broke down sobbing even harder than he already was. He looked up at her and saw her stick a needle into a tiny hole in the lid of a small jar. She pulled back the plunger to measure out his dose.
"Please, no," Drake begged through his tears. "Please, don't. Please." When Dahlia had the shot ready, he lifted his arms as an attempt to protect himself, but she grabbed one with ease. With the other, he desperately tried to peel her fingers away. "I'll be good. Please, I'll be so good. I swear. Please, I swear. I'll behave. I promise I'll behave." He could hardly speak through his sobs when she got his other hand on the ground and stepped on his forearm to pin it there. "Please forgive me. Please have mercy. Please." He winced as she stuck the needle into his wrist. "Please, I beg you. I'm begging you. I'm begging. I'll be a good boy." He felt the sudden rush of liquid in his veins and choked out his final word, "…mommy…"
Once again, the medicine kicked in fast, paralyzing him almost instantaneously. When she pulled the needle out and let go of him, his arm dropped to the ground with a thud.
Dahlia turned him onto his side and made him watch as she did some finishing touches with his grave. Once it was complete, she took the tarp and spread it out next to her ex. After that, she started rolling him up in it like a burrito, and Drake couldn't do anything to stop it. Frightened, sorrowful moans left his lips. Clementine grabbed the foot end and pulled him across the dirt and over to his grave. His head hit the bottom with a thud and, when she let go of his ankles, his legs, too, made hard contact with the ground.
Already, Drake was feeling claustrophobic due to the walls surrounding him, and the tarp made it really hard to breathe. All he could think was 'This is it.' After he was in place, she disappeared out of his line of sight for a bit, and all he could do was obsess over what was about to happen to him.
When Dahlia returned, she was carrying the shovel. The first two loads of dirt were dropped onto Drake's head because she wanted to really scare him. This did the trick because she saw a yellow color moving around his crotch area. The clear tarp was plastic, so the urine didn't get absorbed into anything. All he could do was lay in it. She dumped the next shovelfuls around his feet and gradually made her way up, taking her time. She wanted him to watch. She craved to see the look of horror and regret on his face and hear his incoherent screams and cries get louder the higher up she made it.
*END FLASHBACK*
When Julio had entered the house that night, it didn't feel like the same home anymore. It was a strange feeling knowing that Drake wasn't here waiting for him, and he never would be again. Already, it felt like a piece was missing from the Santos house, or maybe that was his heart.
When they'd arrived home after a long day of searching for their friend's corpse, Ricardo had immediately headed upstairs, and Dee followed. Julio barely made it over the threshold. He didn't want to be here, but he couldn't think of anywhere better. He got himself to the living room and absently plopped down on the couch. It hadn't hit quite yet. It didn't feel real. There had been so many false alarms and close calls that it felt like an abnormal but familiar day almost. Drake had survived so much in his short life. He always made it out alive. Always. Why was this time any different?
Julio flinched when he heard a loud sound emanating from upstairs. Something had gotten broken. He doubted it was an accident. His brother had a huge temper, and he got like this sometimes so that he'd feel more in control. Swearing followed, both in English and in Spanish, then more crashing. The younger brother closed his eyes as his tears fell. He lowered his head, rested it in his hands...and broke.
Upstairs, Ricardo was pacing the floor. Dee stood back at a respectful distance, but he didn't leave him alone.
"¡Esa maldita perra! I could fucking kill her right now!"
"Baby..."
"Who the fuck does she think she is?! You should've seen her in there! ¡Pequeña coño presumida! She was so proud of what she'd done to him! She kept fucking smirking! You should've seen it! The way she—"
He cut himself off and suddenly swiped his hands over the surface of his dresser, sending things flying through the air and to the floor. Dee just stood there. He was frozen in place as tears left his eyes. He wept for the loss of Drake and for the hurt his boyfriend was feeling and for not knowing what to do to stop Ricardo.
"She sat there and smiled when she said he begged for his life! She said, when he figured it out — that she was going to bury him alive — he tried to throw himself off a fucking cliff! She stopped him and pointed a gun at him, and he grabbed her hand to make her aim at his own heart! You should've heard her bragging about the way he begged her to pull the trigger! He was fucking terrified, and she got off on that! ¡La psicópata repugnante!" Furious, he picked up the lamp on his nightstand and slung it across the room with full force. He then aimed his fist at the dresser mirror and went in for a Punch!... Punch!... Punch!
"Baby... Baby."
Ricardo seemed to be in some sort of blacked-out rage, forcing Dee to intervene.
"Baby, stop." Dee grabbed him, but was shoved away. He didn't give up. "Stop! Ricardo, stop!"
This seemed to pull the grieving man out of his trance. His boyfriend's arms gave him comfort. He felt like he could allow himself to be vulnerable enough in front of him to let go of his anger...and he did.
A heart-wrenching scream left him as he dropped onto his knees. Dee held him tightly and rubbed his back as his head rested in the crook of his neck. There, Ricardo bawled, and he did so loudly — half screaming, half sobbing. Dee's face contorted, and he sniffled, but he, too, couldn't hold back his break-down.
It wasn't much later when the door slowly opened, and Julio looked on at the scene before him. He'd never seen his brother like this before. He's seen him cry, sure, but never like this, and it honestly kind of scared him. It made his own tears more frequent.
Dee could tell the younger Santos didn't want to be alone, so he nodded him over. Julio approached quickly, like he'd been waiting hours for that invitation. Dee wrapped his other arm around him and pulled him close.
Julio leaned over and held onto his older brother. "It'll be okay," he said. He was frightened by Ricardo's reaction to Drake's death, and he just wanted him to stop hurting. "It'll be okay. It'll be okay." He choked out sobs in between each sentence. He wasn't sure he even believed those words, but he needed his brother to believe them. "It'll be okay, bro."
Things weren't any better at the Nichols home either. Mrs. Hayfer was watching Charlie at her house because the girl had no idea her father had even gone missing. Walter was there, doing his best to offer his ex-wife comfort as she got on her knees, taking turns between groaning in absolute anguish and begging God to return her son. Megan was in the basement with Kenzly. The deceased's sister seemed as though she was all cried out from earlier. Instead, she was just numb. Kenzly wept off and on, but she was trying her damnedest to be strong for Megan. It just got hard when she heard Audrey screaming upstairs.
"This is all my fault," Megan said quietly.
"It's not your fault." Kenzly pulled her into a hug. "It's not your fault."
"I shouldn't have left him," she said. "I always do that. I always let him down. Just like with my dad."
"You know he didn't blame you for that. He was scared of your dad, too. He understood why you never told anyone," Kenzly said. "And you know that making sure you and Charlie were safe was all he cared about."
"I could've went back for him. I should have."
"He wouldn't have wanted you to risk it. He would've been devastated if something had happened to either one of you."
"He was probably wondering why I abandoned him."
"No." She hugged her tighter. "No, Megan."
A dark cloud hung over Drake's other sibling's head as well. Josh was weeping on the couch in his apartment, and Rochelle sat next to him. She, too, was crying.
"I've been such an awful brother to him," he was saying. "He always thought it was him. He always blamed himself for our relationship deteriorating, but it was me. I was the one who couldn't let go of my anger. Instead, I just let him go."
"You both may have done some hurtful things to each other, but he didn't hold that against you. He understood that it would take time to put this relationship back together, and he was willing to wait. You said it yourself. When you hung out with him that day, you could tell he was so happy to see you. At least you had that day together. At least he died knowing that you did still love him, and he loved you, too."
"There are so many things I never even got the chance to tell him." He was looking at his girlfriend's stomach, where there was the smallest hint of a baby bump. "I always thought..." He let go of a shuttering breath as more tears fell. "I thought we were gonna get the chance to be brothers again, and that our kids would become best friends like me and him."
"They can still be best friends."
"But he'll never see it. He won't see them grow up together. He never even got the chance to meet our baby."
"Drake will always, always be with you," Rochelle said. She gently placed her hand on his chest. "In here. You'll see him again one day, and I'm sure he'll have some crazy stories to tell you, too."
Josh couldn't help but chuckle through his tears. "I can see it now — all the trouble he'll be getting himself into in Heaven. If there's some sort of equivalent to a principal's office up there, I'm sure he'll be there everyday." Picturing his trouble-maker brother trying to sweet-talk his way out of trouble to God made him smile. Even God couldn't get mad at that innocent look Drake always wore when he got caught doing something wrong. "I just miss him so much already."
"I know, but you'll see him again. You'll just have to wait a little while."
"He was so young. He had an unfair life, and he was only given twenty-two years to sort it out. The second he was old enough to stop playing with toys and actually make some decisions for himself, his dad started abusing him. He endured that for six years and spent the next four trying, but never recovering. Drake spent his whole life running...from his dad, from his addiction, from people who wanted to hurt him, from people who wanted to help him. He never stopped running. There wasn't a single moment in his life that he wasn't living in fear."
"Where he is now, there's no fear," his girlfriend said, taking his hand in hers. "God's taking care of him."
"HELP!" Drake screamed into the darkness. "HELP ME! PLEASE!"
His chest hurt, for he could hardly lift it, and just this small amount of yelling made him exhausted and light-headed. He closed his mouth around the straw Dahlia had placed between lips and took in a shaky, struggling breath, then another, and a terrified squeak left him on a sob.
The paralysis shot had long since worn off, but still he couldn't move. There was no room to. He dug his broken fingernails into the tarp and clawed away, but it did nothing.
"I'M DOWN HERE! PLEASE! HELP ME! I CAN'T MOVE! HELP!"
He inhaled through the straw again, forced to take shallow breaths that didn't allow him the oxygen he needed. He felt close to blacking out, having not had the patience to catch his breath enough before calling for a savior again. It didn't help that he couldn't stop crying. He's been crying for days. He wouldn't be able to keep this up for much longer. He knew that.
With the next inhale, he felt something enter his mouth, then his throat. It could only be one thing: a bug that had wandered its way into his breathing tube. He coughed and gasped, trying to dislodge the stuck bug. His eyes were wide with panic, which grew at the sight of the endless black void in front of him. He immediately attempted to reach for his neck, but couldn't lift his arm, which made him panic more. His hands clenched into fists, and his toes curled. Tears left his swollen, bloodshot eyes. He continued to cough, his chest on fire now, and when he gasped, only a little air would reach his lungs.
With the next cough, the bug was finally forced into his mouth again, and with no other way to get rid of it, he swallowed the unknown insect, then spent the next several minutes collecting his breath and wondering how the hell he'd survived the near death experience.
During his struggle and strain, his bladder and bowels had emptied, and the smell made him gag, which made it even harder to breathe. Worse still, was the sudden electric shock he felt coursing through his body.
Zzzzzztttttttt!
It was a short one this time. He got lucky. Before fully burying him, Dahlia had brought a knife over to him. Part of him had believed she would free him while the other part thought she'd stab him. Instead, she tore open the part of the tarp that was right above his private region and set up some sort of shocking device. This left a large hole for bugs to be able to worm through the dirt, creep into his tarp and feed on his excrement. He could feel them crawling all around his thighs, as well as exploring the rest of his body, waiting for him to die so they could pick his bones clean.
When he finally caught his breath as well as he possibly could down here, he tried for rescue again. "CLEM, PLEASE! I'M BEGGING YOU! DON'T LEAVE ME HERE! PLEASE! I'M SORRY! I'M SO SORRY!"
He went back to sucking on the straw, desperate for air, completely unaware — or just refusing to accept the fact — that Dahlia was long gone…and that he was truly and utterly alone.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Just a quick reply to my reviewer. I'm right there with you. I love Ricardo, too. So so glad you checked out the Scream story! I'm so excited! I'm glad you enjoyed it. Drake definitely has the same energy in that story that he has in the Charlie series. I think we have the same favorite chapters! Thanks for sharing those with me and also leaving a comment here with your thoughts. Glad the killer reveal came as a shock.
To the others reading this story that I'm in contact with, I appreciate you, too, and can't wait to hear your thoughts on this new chapter.
If you haven't checked out the Scream story yet, please do! It's called Scream: A Drake & Josh Story. You can find it here, on Ao3, or on Wattpad. As always, guys, CCC ya!