One more breath.
One more.
But it’s not working—he won’t breathe on his own. I feel like I’m dying with him only I’m not. I’m still kneeling here on f**king concrete while everyone keeps dying around me and I just sit by and watch, motionless, unable to stop it. I f**king hate it. I hate being here. I can’t do it. Can’t feel death again.
“Why do you keep doing this to me?” I cry out to the sky as tears stream down my face. I can’t take it anymore. I can’t. “I don’t want to live! Please just take me instead!” I’m not even sure if I believe in God or if he exists, but I swear if he does he hates me. Or maybe it’s just me that hates me.
Tears fall from my eyes and I start breathing for Tristan again, refusing to give up. Fighting. Refusing to accept another death. “Come on,” I beg through my hopeless sobs. “Please, please, just breathe.”
Please, please don’t die.
Chapter 13
May 27, day twelve of summer break
Nova
I have about twenty-four hours to figure out if Quinton’s okay before my mom’s flight lands and I have to go home. He never called me like he said he would and I at least need to know if he’s okay before I bail out on him, let him go, knowing I’ll probably hate myself forever for walking away.
I try to call Delilah’s phone, but she doesn’t answer, so I drive over to Quinton’s house. Lea argued with me about it for a while but gave up and got in the car with me, despite my protests that she shouldn’t go over there. If she knew the entire story of what happened, she probably would have put up a bigger fight, but I didn’t tell her, knowing this.
It’s a rare cloudy day and I’m grateful to get a break from the sunlight. Although when we pull up to the building, the gray sky over it makes it seem much more ominous.
Warning flags are all over the place when I get to their door. There’s a hole in it and the front window is cracked. But it’s not even just that. I have a bad feeling, like I did the morning I woke up and found Landon dead in his room. I knew something was about to shift and not in a good way.
“Nova, would you just relax?” Lea says as I cup my hands around my eyes and peer in through the window of Quinton’s apartment. The curtain’s falling down on one side and I can see right into the living room. The place is a wreck, more than it usually is. One of the sofas is tipped over and there’s an abundance of garbage and glass on the floor and there are more holes in the walls, Sheetrock all over the linoleum. The lamps have been bashed to pieces and the ceiling light is on the floor.
“No…something’s not right.” I glance over my shoulder at her. “I can feel it.”
“You’re not telling me everything,” she says, putting her hands on her hips. “Something happened yesterday—something bad.”
“Everything’s fine,” I lie. I’m not even sure why I’m lying at the moment. My mother’s already headed down here. Everything’s ruined. But saying it all aloud makes it feel so real.
I put my face up against the glass and try to see inside again. There’s someone lying on the sofa that’s still upright, arm hanging over the side, head turned to the other side so I can’t see his face. But from the bald head, bony body, and tattoos, I’m guessing it’s Dylan.
I step back from the window and glance out at the parking lot and the two vehicles out there, one of which is mine and one of which has four flat tires. The Cadillac that was here yesterday is gone. I don’t know what that means or if I can handle what it means—whatever happened between Trace, Tristan, and Quinton.
“Nova, I think we should go,” Lea says, glancing down the balcony with worry in her eyes as Bernie walks out of his apartment.
She’s probably right. We shouldn’t be here. I’m putting us at risk by making us stay, when I have no idea what happened yesterday.
“I just need to know if he’s okay.” I move back in front of the door and try the doorknob, but it’s locked, so I knock on the door. “I think he might be in some trouble.”
She picks at her fingernails nervously. “This entire place is trouble, Nova. You should have never been hanging around here.” She catches my arm, startling me. “And if that’s true, then you need to stay out of it.” She targets me with a stern look. “Focus on the bigger picture and how dangerous this is.” She motions around us, her gaze lingering on Bernie, who’s watching us. “All of this is.”
I jerk my arm away from her, more roughly than I meant to, but I don’t apologize as I slip my fingers through the hole in the door, trying to reach the lock, refusing to walk away until I know Quinton’s not dead.
I manage to get to the lock and the door opens up. “Thank God,” I mutter.
“Nova, please don’t go in there,” Lea begs, but I’m already over the threshold and she doesn’t follow me in.
It’s stuffier than normal, but that could be because all the garbage and dirty dishes from the kitchen are scattered all over the place. Whatever the reason, the air is so heavy and potent that it knocks the breath out of me.
“I’m not going in there,” Lea calls out from the balcony and I’m glad because I don’t want her to.
I leave her standing outside and walk over to the sofa, broken glass crunching under my sandals. When I get there, I lean over and determine that it is Dylan lying there with a rubber band tied around his arm and a needle on the floor just below him, along with a spoon and a lighter. I hate that I feel it, but I’m glad he’s passed out on drugs because I don’t want to deal with his creepiness today.
Swallowing the burn in the back of my throat I head for the hallway and go to Quinton’s room. For the briefest second, I flash back to the moment I walked into Landon’s room and found him hanging from the rope. I’m not sure why, other than maybe because my stomach and mind feel like they’re in the same place now. The place where I know something bad is about to happen—or has happened.
Quinton’s not in his room, though, and I’m not sure if I feel good about that or not, because I didn’t find him dead behind the door, but he’s still missing.
His sketches are all over the place, torn up, crinkled. There are some of me and some of a girl I think must be Lexi. His mattress has been flipped over and slashed and a few holes have been put in his wall. There are coins scattered all over the place and shards of mirror all over the floor.