Miranda [Watty Awards 2013]

Chapter 30

The car was silent for a long time.

            I could tell you that I had been crying non-stop, given up like I so desperately wanted to, but that would be a lie. My cheeks were dry, although my eyes were red, and my mind was reeling, trying to formulate a plan.

            I went through the events in my head one more time, making sure that I had the correct sense of it all. John Walters had taken Lacy, and ultimately, he had killed her. Mimi was gone, and I could call for her, but she would be of no use to me. I did not want to see her face. Walters was dead. I had killed him, a bullet right between the eyes. And Lacy. . . .

            Lacy was dead. Ashleigh Rebecca Masons was dead. I could not get her image out of my head, her still body, her limp hands, her closed eyes. Her pulse that would not beat. I had no other option but to leave her there, in that cold cement cellar, and walking away from her had nearly been the end of me.

            Grim has to die, and that is the end of that.

            I replayed Walters’ words to myself over and over, his sick little plan that would result in my father’s death. At first it had seemed impossible, the words of a man long gone insane, but now that I agreed he should be ended, his torturing ceased, it opened up a door I’d never dared touch before.

            Amelia Locke is my supposed mother’s name. I had to find her. I had no idea what she knew, what she could be capable of, but there wasn’t any other option. She was the best lead I had, and I had to find her.

            But first things first: I had to get the hell out of New York City.

            Even on the highway, the only sound I could hear was the pulsing of blood in my ears, mocking me by reminding me I had the heartbeat that Lacy no longer did. The city sounds seemed to have died along with her, and I thanked a God I no longer believed in for that. The sounds would drive me crazy.

            Jack sat quietly in shotgun, arms folded across his chest, head leaning against the window. Every now and then I would hear him sigh painfully, hear him sniffle a little, but nothing more than that. He did not shift his seat, not even once, and that was unlike him. The Jack I knew was restless.

            But I couldn’t bring myself to look at him, not yet. As we crossed the line into New Jersey, I didn’t glance his way, because I didn’t think that I would be able to do so. I had to build my strength up first.

            I loved Jack, and I knew that if Grim was after us, he would be next.

            I would end this sick cycle, this sick chase. I would restore the balance that Walters had so desperately been searching for. I would get rid of him, of my father. I swear it, on both Lacy’s and Jack’s lives.

            I would not lose them both.

            Following the highway, going blindly by the signs so that I wouldn’t have to take out the GPS and waste time setting it up, I sped along as quickly as I could. Most of the time I had to refrain from going the speed I wanted to, because I could sense the cops waiting, and so I stayed with the packs on the road so that I wouldn’t get pulled.

            Steeling my nerves, I figured it was time to turn my attention to Jack. Closing my eyes for a brief moment, I opened them again and flickered them to see his face.

            There were tears running down his cheeks.

            I was almost shocked at the sight, at the fact that Jack had broken down. Sure, he’d done it once or twice before, but it was not something I felt I’d ever grow accustomed to. It made me feel terrible on the inside; he was only feeling this way because of me. He would be better off if we had never met.