He grabs onto my shirt, desperate to gain control as he pushes his hand against my face, shoving me back against the cupboard. Digging my fingernails into the palms of my hands, I curve my fist upward and strike him in the side of the head, hard. He lets out a grunt as he shoves me back and I crash against the counter, banging my hip against the tile and knocking knives to the floor. I start to move forward, but he runs at me with his head down. I speed up, bending my knees to hop over the island, but he catches the bottom of my shirt and jerks me down to the floor. I fling my arm behind me, reaching for him, but he ducks down.
I feel numb. Completely dead inside as I spin around on my heels and shove my hands against his chest. He refuses to let go of me, even when he trips to the floor, and he yanks me down with him. I try to roll on top of him, but seconds later I feel something sharp pierce through my side and everything stops.
My dad rises to his feet, holding a blood-soaked knife. “Why can’t you ever listen?” He drops the knife onto the floor beside my feet and it clanks against the tile. His face is as white as a ghost as he backs away. “You fucking…” He drags his fingers down his face, before he takes off for the front door, leaving it ajar behind him and cold air gusts in.
Every part of my body aches, like a thousand knives have been stabbed into me instead of one. Pivoting to the side, I crawl up, and lean against the counter, moving my hand away from my side. Blood coats my trembling fingers and leaks out of the hole in my shirt, filling the cracks in the tile floor below me. I shut my eyes as I fight to breathe, but the pain is winning.
I think about Callie, what she’s doing, what she’ll do when she hears about what happened. It hurts, even though it’s not supposed to; the thought of me leaving her, of her leaving me, of never having her again. I can’t hold it in.
Reaching to my side, I pick up a knife, my hand unsteady as I put the tip to my forearm. It’s what I’ve done for ages to shut it off. It started when I was seven when I realized that cutting myself helped me breathe—helped me live through the hell of life. It’s my fucked up secret; the darkness that lives within me. With every incision into my skin, the pain begins to subside as blood covers the floor.
Callie
I wake up to an empty bed and panic erupts through my body. Where did he go? I grab my phone off the nightstand and text Kayden multiple times, but he doesn’t answer. I slip my shoes on and run out the door to go look for him. I need to talk to him about last night and let him know that we need to just let it go because with him in my life, what happened with Caleb isn’t as scary.
Morning is clipping over the mountains and the sky is a bright pink, but the beauty of it is very misleading compared to what’s going on down below. The wind is raging, blowing in a storm and chilling the temperature.
My father is at the kitchen table when I walk inside. His brown hair is parted to the side and he’s got his tie and slacks on, ready for Thanksgiving dinner this afternoon.
When he peers up from his food, his eyebrows furrow. “Are you okay? You look like you’ve been crying.”
“I’m fine.” I glance in the living room, before backtracking to the center of the kitchen. “Where’s mom? I need to ask her if I can borrow her car.”
“She’s taking a shower.” He stands up from the chair and drops the bowl into the sink, observing me. “You look like you’ve lost some weight. Make sure you eat a lot today. There’s going to be a game after dinner and I want you to play this year.”
“Okay, fine.” I can hardly hear him as I browse through the messages on my phone, but there aren’t any from Kayden. “Can I borrow your car for a little bit? I promise I won’t be gone for too long.”
He reaches for the keys in his pocket. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look really upset.”
“I’m fine,” I assure him, unnerved because normally he doesn’t notice these things. How bad do I look? “I just need to check up on a friend.”
He tosses me the keys and I catch them effortlessly. “Would this friend be one of my old quarterbacks?”
I wrap my fingers around the keys, feeling the jagged sides cut into my palm. “Mom’s been gossiping, hasn’t she?”
He shrugs, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “You know how she gets. She just wants you to be happy.”
“I am happy.” And at that moment it doesn’t seem like a huge lie. “I just need to find someone.” I turn for the door.
“Be back in an hour,” he calls out. “You know she’s going to want your help. Your brother never came home last night. He probably stayed out all night getting drunk, so he won’t be any help.”
“Okay.” I step out into the cold, feeling something hit me in the chest, but I’m not sure what it is. My phone goes off in my pocket and I’m surprised to see Luke’s name flash on the screen.
“Hello,” I answer as I run down the driveway and hop into my dad’s car.
“Hey,” he says in an anxious voice. “Have you talked to Kayden at all?”
“Not since last night.” I slam the door and start the engine, not bothering to let the defroster warm up. “I don’t know where he went. He just took off and I can’t get a hold of him.”
“Me neither.” He wavers as I crane my neck and back the car onto the road, squinting to see through the frosted rear window. “Listen Callie, last night he did something really bad.”
I align the car onto the road and shove it into drive. “What happened?”
“I got this weird call from him,” he says. “Asking me to pick him up. He had me take him out to the lake and he… he beat the shit out of Caleb Miller.”
I press the gas pedal to the floor and the tires squeal. “Is he okay?”