Inspiring You
Page 37
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I’m not sure where to go, so I head for the back door. Right as I reach the steps, two officers exit the house, hauling out a middle-aged man in handcuffs.
He has the same eyes and hair color as me, his face recognizable from the memory. “Let me go. I didn’t do anything wrong,” he spats to the officers. “You’re the ones who are wrong, for stopping me.” He’s walking awkwardly, like it’s painful to move his legs, and his face and eyes are swollen, like someone beat the crap out of him.
I grind to a halt as fear and rage storm through me. “Where is she?” I growl.
“Kid, you can’t be here,” one of officers warns me, gently pushing me to stay back.
I follow them as they drag my father down the driveway and to a police vehicle. “You better not have done anything to her!” I shout.
“I was never planning on doing anything to her. It was supposed to be you. Your soul needs the cleansing. Not mine. I’ve cleansed my soul many, many times.” His smile expands as he ducks his head and the officer forces him into the backseat. “I thought you could use Sadie. That her death could cleanse her soul, but then I heard you and Lyric say you loved each other for the first time, and I knew Sadie couldn’t be your sacrifice. It had to be Lyric.”
I fucking hate hearing him say her name, but taking in his words is even worse. The only way he could’ve heard Lyric and I say I love you for the first time is if he was either in the bedroom with us, or he bugged the room. Either option is equally as sickening, and it takes every ounce of strength I possess not to push the officers out of the way and strangle him.
“You’re so fucked up,” I snap, moving back as an officer steps in front of me and blocks my way.
“You need to keep back,” the officer warns, steering me away from the car.
“You’re part of me,” my dad calls out. “And don’t you ever—”
The officer slams the car door, locking my dad in the backseat. I stare at him for a second or two longer before I turn my back on him and start searching for Lyric.
I’m an erratic mess of nerves and anxiety by the time I find her parents standing near the back of an ambulance, staring inside, looking sick to death. Terror crashes through me as I run toward them and look inside the ambulance.
Lyric is inside, sitting on a stretcher, being examined by an EMT. When she sees me, her eyes light up, and she leaps to her feet, ignoring the EMT’s protests.
“I’ve never been so glad to see you in my life,” she says as she jumps into my arms and wraps her legs around me.
“Tell me you’re okay,” I beg as I clutch onto her for dear life.
She leans back to look me in the eye. “I’m fine. Just a few scratches, but it’s mostly just carpet burn.”
I carefully set her down, but only so I can examine every inch of her. She might have said she was okay, but I need to be absolutely certain. I don’t see any wounds other than a few scrapes on her legs. Her eyes are a bit swollen, but I think that might be from crying.
“Ayden, relax.” Her fingers caress my cheek, bringing my attention to her eyes. “I’m fine. I swear.”
“What happened?” I swallow hard, my voice thick with emotion.
My body starts to shake
Breathing in her words.
The truth is potent.
The truth is raw.
The truth is real.
That I could have lost her.
She sighs exhaustedly. “He snuck into my room, used my phone to text you, then I kicked the crap out of him until he let me go. I think he had bigger plans, but after about ten kicks to the balls, he could barely breathe. Then my dad came in and beat the shit out of him . . .” Her muscles stiffen and her voice drops to a whisper. “For a second, I was worried he wasn’t going to stop . . . That my dad was going to kill him.”
A sick, twisted part of me wishes that had happened. But the last thing I want is for Lyric’s dad to have blood on his hands.
“You’re so fucking strong,” I whisper, on the verge of sobbing. “And I’m so sorry you had to go through that—through any of this.”
“Don’t be sorry,” she says firmly. “Just be glad, okay. That’s all you need to be right now.”
“About what?”
“That it’s over.”
It takes a moment for the full impact of her words to sink in. Then I pull her against me, promising myself I’ll never let her go again.
AFTER MY FATHER IS ARRESTED, the police spend the next day ransacking the Scott’s and my house for any hidden cameras and recording devices. They find a few in Lyric’s room and in my room. The idea that he was watching us makes me sick to my stomach, but like with everything else, it’s something I just have to work on getting past.
He has the same eyes and hair color as me, his face recognizable from the memory. “Let me go. I didn’t do anything wrong,” he spats to the officers. “You’re the ones who are wrong, for stopping me.” He’s walking awkwardly, like it’s painful to move his legs, and his face and eyes are swollen, like someone beat the crap out of him.
I grind to a halt as fear and rage storm through me. “Where is she?” I growl.
“Kid, you can’t be here,” one of officers warns me, gently pushing me to stay back.
I follow them as they drag my father down the driveway and to a police vehicle. “You better not have done anything to her!” I shout.
“I was never planning on doing anything to her. It was supposed to be you. Your soul needs the cleansing. Not mine. I’ve cleansed my soul many, many times.” His smile expands as he ducks his head and the officer forces him into the backseat. “I thought you could use Sadie. That her death could cleanse her soul, but then I heard you and Lyric say you loved each other for the first time, and I knew Sadie couldn’t be your sacrifice. It had to be Lyric.”
I fucking hate hearing him say her name, but taking in his words is even worse. The only way he could’ve heard Lyric and I say I love you for the first time is if he was either in the bedroom with us, or he bugged the room. Either option is equally as sickening, and it takes every ounce of strength I possess not to push the officers out of the way and strangle him.
“You’re so fucked up,” I snap, moving back as an officer steps in front of me and blocks my way.
“You need to keep back,” the officer warns, steering me away from the car.
“You’re part of me,” my dad calls out. “And don’t you ever—”
The officer slams the car door, locking my dad in the backseat. I stare at him for a second or two longer before I turn my back on him and start searching for Lyric.
I’m an erratic mess of nerves and anxiety by the time I find her parents standing near the back of an ambulance, staring inside, looking sick to death. Terror crashes through me as I run toward them and look inside the ambulance.
Lyric is inside, sitting on a stretcher, being examined by an EMT. When she sees me, her eyes light up, and she leaps to her feet, ignoring the EMT’s protests.
“I’ve never been so glad to see you in my life,” she says as she jumps into my arms and wraps her legs around me.
“Tell me you’re okay,” I beg as I clutch onto her for dear life.
She leans back to look me in the eye. “I’m fine. Just a few scratches, but it’s mostly just carpet burn.”
I carefully set her down, but only so I can examine every inch of her. She might have said she was okay, but I need to be absolutely certain. I don’t see any wounds other than a few scrapes on her legs. Her eyes are a bit swollen, but I think that might be from crying.
“Ayden, relax.” Her fingers caress my cheek, bringing my attention to her eyes. “I’m fine. I swear.”
“What happened?” I swallow hard, my voice thick with emotion.
My body starts to shake
Breathing in her words.
The truth is potent.
The truth is raw.
The truth is real.
That I could have lost her.
She sighs exhaustedly. “He snuck into my room, used my phone to text you, then I kicked the crap out of him until he let me go. I think he had bigger plans, but after about ten kicks to the balls, he could barely breathe. Then my dad came in and beat the shit out of him . . .” Her muscles stiffen and her voice drops to a whisper. “For a second, I was worried he wasn’t going to stop . . . That my dad was going to kill him.”
A sick, twisted part of me wishes that had happened. But the last thing I want is for Lyric’s dad to have blood on his hands.
“You’re so fucking strong,” I whisper, on the verge of sobbing. “And I’m so sorry you had to go through that—through any of this.”
“Don’t be sorry,” she says firmly. “Just be glad, okay. That’s all you need to be right now.”
“About what?”
“That it’s over.”
It takes a moment for the full impact of her words to sink in. Then I pull her against me, promising myself I’ll never let her go again.
AFTER MY FATHER IS ARRESTED, the police spend the next day ransacking the Scott’s and my house for any hidden cameras and recording devices. They find a few in Lyric’s room and in my room. The idea that he was watching us makes me sick to my stomach, but like with everything else, it’s something I just have to work on getting past.
