Under a Silent Moon

44

Chapter Forty-Four: It Was an Accident

ZACK

How the fuck am I supposed to go to school and pretend like I have no idea what happened to one of my closest friends? I've already lied about so much of my existence since my transition, and now the universe has thrown another shit storm that I have to somehow lie my way out of. Again.

I'm going to have to look in the faces of friends, family, and teachers and somehow tell them: "No, I haven't heard from Grayson" and "I haven't seen him since that night in his basement."

No, I definitely didn't tear his throat out and bury his body in the backyard.

Grayson had to learn the hard way that there can be dire consequences to his actions, but was this the way to teach him? By murdering him?

It was an accident.

Was it?

Under the fluorescent lights of the school halls, I find myself struggling to remain composed. Lana has made a point to walk with me from class to class, disregarding the tardiness to her own. She holds my hand tight, and for a moment I feel like I'm a first grader in need of comforting.

I can't concentrate in class. I tap my pencil incessantly against my desk, to the point where Mr. Hodges has to ask me to stop. He probably thinks I'm acting like an asshole on purpose, but little does he know I'm slowly losing grip on reality.

I smell blood. Discreetly, I glance around, searching to see who probably has a paper cut. When my classmates seem just fine, I start picking under my nails. Maybe some of Grayson's blood remains there. Maybe that's what I smell. My best friend's blood. On my hands.

I pick at my hands--pick and pick and pick--until I start to bleed myself. I slam my fist on my desk, which echoes around the room and gains the attention of everyone.

"Mr. Ions, do you need to use the hall pass?" Mr. Hodges asks carefully.

I push off from my chair and bolt into the hall, ignoring his direction to take the pass with me.

I accidentally ram into a student out in the hall on my desperate escape from room 201, slamming him against the row of lockers. I curse under my breath, muttering an apology as I make a B-line to the bathroom. I don't wait around to see if he's alright. I need to get out of sight. Everyone knows what I've done. They have to know. It's all I can think about. I think it so loudly I must be shouting. They must be able to hear my confession.

I need Lana, I think as I stow away in a bathroom stall. I fumble for my cell phone and start to fervently type a message to her, but my thumb hovers over the send button. I can't keep pulling her away from her own life every time I struggle with mine. It isn't fair. She didn't ask for this. I didn't ask for this.

Grayson's hands on Lana.

Lana's hands grasping the bottle of pills.

My teeth in Grayson's neck.

His labored breathing.

The pools of blood.

I don't even realize I'm pounding my fist into the stall door under a boy about two years younger than me asks what the hell I'm doing.

In a flash, I'm throwing the boy against the full-length mirror, splaying shards of glass across the bathroom floor. He lays bleeding and in shock amongst the wreckage, unable to lift himself into a sitting position.

I approach him slowly, bending down to regard the damage I've caused. His arteries are in my head.

"Get away from me," he threatens weakly, picking up a piece of shattered mirror as a weapon. I grab his wrist and bend it back until I hear the snapping of bones.

Wailing in pain, I end his suffering quickly as I bring his neck to my lips. When the deed is done, I text Lana. I tell her to come quick. But as I leave a trail of blood through the hallway, I know that it's too late.